2024-03-24 Semon – The Lord Needs It
3-24-24 Palm Sunday
The Lord Needs It
Mark 11: 1-11
I had the opportunity to experience Palm Sunday in Assisi, the city of St. Francis, Italy, in April 1991. During the Easter break, I participated in a tour program for Paris and several cities in Italy, supported by the International Student Association. Each day, we would commence our explorations from the heart of the city in the morning, spending the entire day discovering its wonders before regrouping at a predetermined location in the evening to return to our hotel.
On Palm Sunday morning, Assisi presented itself as a quaint hilltop town, surrounded by orchards adorned with delicate pink flowers. As we gathered in the city square, children paraded with enthusiasm, brandishing palm branches. Doves soared above them, completing the picturesque scene. The joyful voices of the children echoed throughout the square.
Palm Sunday commemorates the Lord’s Entry into Jerusalem, often referred to as the triumphal entry. Today, wouldn’t you also like to accompany the Lord on a donkey to Jerusalem?
1. Can you untie a colt and bring it?
In the synoptic Gospels, Jesus made only one visit to Jerusalem during his public ministry. Upon encountering Greeks to seek him, Jesus sensed that the time of glory was imminent. This realization brought him face to face with the truth that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone.
On that day, Jesus finally entered Jerusalem. He likely recalled the dialogue he had with scribes and priests in the temple when he was twelve. Perhaps he struggled to sleep the night before, as it was about a week before Passover. However, he had no donkey to ride. There was no disciple who prepared to bring a donkey. He likely spent the night in deep prayer, contemplating the events of the day. Did his disciples know his inner turmoil?
Approximately 300 years earlier, Alexander the Great entered Jerusalem on horseback, after brutally subduing Tyre and Gaza. Jerusalem, in fear, opened its gates wide to welcome him. Similarly, Pontius Pilate, nearing Passover, would parade into the city with horses, chariots, and weapons. Jesus, however, enters Jerusalem through the same path. Alexander the Great and Pilate sought to portray themselves as kings and conquerors, displaying their power. Jesus’ entry, on the other hand, demonstrated the arrival of the King of Peace, a challenge to their authority that could not be ignored.
In the morning, Jesus instructs two disciples to bring a donkey. Before entering the temple, one might wonder if Jesus had concerns about the donkey while he prayed through the night. Riding a donkey symbolizes humility, heralds the arrival of the King of Peace, and fulfills prophecies.
The pivotal moment in today’s passage lies in the disciples’ obedience to Jesus’ command to fetch the donkey. The owner of the donkey does not object but willingly surrenders it, acknowledging, “The Lord needs it.” This act is truly remarkable.
Reflecting on this, I wonder if I would have obeyed if Jesus had asked me to obtain a donkey. Would you do as Jesus asks? It seems possible only when we share the heart of the Lord.
2. Jesus’ silence and people’s jubilation
Jesus embodies the Scriptures, fulfilling God’s prophecies with his body. Likewise, we should strive to live out the Scriptures as Jesus did.
Throughout his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus remained silent. It struck me as odd that in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus uttered not a single word. Was he not profoundly uncomfortable? Perhaps Jesus prayed fervently in silence while riding the donkey. Maybe instead of joining in the jubilation of the crowd, he engaged in a profound conversation with the silent donkey he rode. When Jesus informed the donkey’s owner, “The Lord needs it,” he silently prayed, sharing his sentiments with the quiet animal and God.
The people of Jerusalem and the children cried out “Hosanna,” which means “Save us.” Today, you and I can also raise our voices in “Hosanna.” They eagerly laid their cloaks on the road and shouted, expressing their desperation. They had heard about the Nazarene prophet who entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey and desired to believe in him. Do you know what they really wanted to obtain, when they cried out for salvation?
Interestingly, Jesus did not respond to those shouting “Hosanna.” Jesus remained silent. Why did he choose not to speak? In the gospel according to Luke, when the Pharisees demanded to keep the jubilant cries silent, Jesus answered, “If they keep quiet, the stones themselves will start shouting.” I know that Jesus did not desire them to shout out. Jesus knew religious leaders’ intention to control and suppress the cries of the people. Jesus deeply understood that the salvation demanded by the people could not be realized as they wished. He came not to fulfill people’s desires but as the sacrificial Passover lamb.
Today, I contemplate the salvation we long for and the “Hosanna” we ought to shout. I would like to introduce an illustration from a pastor’s sermon.
I recently met with a group of seventh-graders to answer some questions. Four of them asked: “Is Jesus the only way to salvation?” I told them that before I would answer that question, they had to answer one for me. “Since salvation implies that you are being saved from something, what do you think Jesus is saving you from?” The first answer that came back was “hell.” Jesus saves people from hell. I am suspicious: first, because, for a good portion of American Christians, this is the (obvious and only) “right answer.” Here is the preacher; the question is, “What does Jesus save us from?” He must want us to respond, “Hell.” It’s kind of similar to what happens when I go to see my doctor, and he asks, “So, have you been exercising?” and I know what he wants me to say.
It is a complicated thing to ask, “What does God save us from?” I don’t believe that the people lining the streets of Jerusalem were primarily concerned about “hell” when they were shouting out to Jesus. If the gospels hint at the crowd’s motivation, it was that the people wanted to be “saved” from the Romans. They wanted deliverance from an occupying army.
I decided to change tactics with our seventh graders. “Let me put it this way,” I said to them, “if God was on the ball, what would God save you from?” Suddenly, our conversation got interesting–very interesting.
One of the youth raised her hand and said, “Death.” Another fellow offered that God could really help him out by saving him from an upcoming math test. Then one of the seventh graders said, “Pressure.” And another youth said, “My parents’ expectations.” Then another, shy individual, almost in a whisper said, “Fear. I want God to save me from my fears.” All of these answers struck me as more sincere than “hell.” Although, I think you could argue that their comments gave a pretty clear picture of what “hell” looks like to a 7th grader.
Can we dip down into our souls and be as honest as these young people were? When we wave our palms and boldly cry out, “Hosanna,” do we dare imagine what we really want God to save us from? Save me from anger. Save me from cancer. Save me from depression. Save me from debt. Save me from the strife in my family. Save me from boredom. Save me from getting sent back to Iraq. Save me from the endless cycle of violence. Save me from humiliation. Save me from staring at the ceiling at three a.m. wondering why I exist. Save me from bitterness. Save me from arrogance. Save me from loneliness. Save me, God, save me from my fears.
The people wanted salvation, which they defined as “freedom from the Romans.” When it became apparent that Jesus was not “that kind of Messiah,” the people’s jubilation quickly vanished. “Save us,” they cried, but then Jesus did not set about saving them in a manner that they could recognize. He did not take up a sword and send the Romans fleeing. Instead, he went and had supper with his friends; he went and prayed in a garden. Some Messiah!? It only took a few days for the crowds to switch from crying “Hosanna” to the shouts of “Crucify him.” So, yes, the risk of Holy Week is that we’ll take a peek at Jesus’ actions and think, “Hmm, this doesn’t look much like salvation to me.”
3. Do you know who experienced salvation on Palm Sunday?
Do you know who experienced salvation in this morning’s lesson?
We should be able to respond when Jesus calls us. Two disciples brought a colt. He did not have any experience to carry a person. But he carried Jesus on his back and went. The colt watched and heard the cheering of the people. He didn’t mistake it toward himself. He simply carried Jesus and walked quietly. I see salvation on the colt’s carrying Jesus. If we carry Jesus on our bodies, isn’t salvation already achieved for us? While Jesus saves us, the more important thing is that He Himself is salvation.
I want to be like the colt. Those who shouted ‘Hosanna’ later cried out, “Be crucified!” The disciples didn’t know the way Jesus was talking, and they couldn’t understand it.
Who do you want to be among the companions of Jesus marching towards Jerusalem today? Are we just part of the cheering crowd? Are we the disciples following behind Jesus? Are we the religious leaders who were unhappy to worry about giving a clue of riot to the Romans? Do you want to be a donkey to carry Jesus on your back?
How should we celebrate Palm Sunday? Jesus will soon be nailed to the cross. Don’t we just end up shouting ‘Hosanna’? Isn’t the true path for us to carry Jesus on our bodies and walk with Him? Honestly, I think that only the donkey knew Jesus’ heart that day and understood Him and carried Him on his back. Therefore, I want to be a donkey. Do you want to be a donkey? I hope that we all will be a donkey.
I wonder… Is there any better way to commence Holy Week than with palms in our hands and “Hosannas” on our lips? Is there any more faithful way to embark on this sacred journey than to ask God, out of the deep, honest places inside of us, to “Save us… please, save us”? Please, ride on my back. I don’t have any experience to carry on. I am clumsy and unexperienced. But I really want to go with you. Please, ride on me. I want to confess this kind of asking.