Who is This?

Matthew 21: 1-11, page 23
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them. And he will send them immediately.”
This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet saying,
“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
Humble, and mounted on a donkey,
And on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
Sermon
At different times in life, the same story can take on a different meaning.
Never before this point in my life have I read Christ’s entrance into Jerusalem according to Matthew with such clarity. I realize that Matthew is telling us not that Christ rides on two animals as verse 7 says: “they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” Matthew is trying to tell us, not knowing the word, that Christ rides into the Holy City on the offspring of a donkey and a colt – he just didn’t know the Greek word for mule.
Wishful thinking - as here a colt is the foal of a donkey, so our gospel lesson has Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey and a young donkey – that he might fulfill to the very letter the prophesy: “Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
Christ is so intent on letting the crowds know who he is and why he enters the city that he lives the prophet’s words exactly.
And it works – the crowds know who he is – “Save us” they cry, as they cushion his path with their coats and palm branches not wanting his steeds’ hooves to touch the ground.
The scene is so joyful and full of anticipation that the crowd’s reaction makes me think of Lily’s face when one of her grandmothers walks through the door.
I used to be that way with my grandmother too when I was Lily’s age. When I would spend the day with Mimi it would be a day of making bows and arrows, watching her paint, playing in creeks, and digging around in her basement.
As soon as I saw her face I knew to anticipate something wonderful.
But then, when I was 11 or 12 she had a stroke and her visits took work – struggling for conversation, not knowing what to say, helping her to stand, embarrassed for my friends to come over.
I look back now on the months that she lived with us with powerful regret, knowing I never valued our time together. I didn’t know what to do, and I was sad that she wasn’t who she was before the stroke.
Knowing that her visits, and eventually her coming to live with us, meant a change in my daily routine, I slowly started to resent her for the way she disrupted our lives I’m sorry to say – loading her in and out of the car, waiting for her to finish eating, not getting my parents’ full attention because she needed them more than I did.
I wasn’t in turmoil, but her presence in my life meant I had to change. I had to slow down, and I had to explain to my friends.
The jubilation that I greeted her with was gone – it didn’t last forever – because who she was to me changed.
Jubilation to turmoil.
Our lesson from Matthew begins with jubilation too – “Hosanna to the Son of David,” or “Save us Son of David, Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”
But our passage ends with the whole city in turmoil – and we know where the road leads from there – the crowd who celebrated him, who laid their very coats for his steeds to trample turn on him as who he is to them changes. He is no longer celebrated, no longer represents to them a liberator, as they call out to Pilate: “Crucify him!”
From jubilation to turmoil, from “Save us Son of David,” to “Crucify him.”
It’s amazing how things change so quickly – but when we see someone as a savior we react to them in one way and if we see them as a burden we react to them another way – and Christ may well be a Savior one day and a burden the next – it all depends on the day and the time.
When we need his forgiveness and we know we need it we greet him with jubilation.
But when he knows we need to change but we aren’t so ready he is a burden.
When he calls us to celebrate who we are we greet him with singing.
But when he calls us to confess our sins, to name them to ourselves and the ones we have hurt we would rather turn away.
When we know that he has come to save us we are more than ready to follow.
But when we see that the road to salvation leads to the cross we hear ourselves deny him.
When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?”
He is all these things and more, and that makes him not a simple savior.
He offers forgiveness, but you must be ready to change.
He sees you and loves you for who you are, but you must be ready to do the same.
And he does bring salvation to the world, but to walk this road to salvation you must be ready to face the cross.
The cost of discipleship is high, but he rides into the city for you – that you would know him and see him for who he is – God incarnate; the Holy one of Israel; the one who lays down his life that you might live.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.