John 12.12–16
We had been at Bethany again; crowds following us everywhere we went, stirred up into frenzies of hysteria for the healer, the exorciser, the teacher I had come to know and love as friend, to trust as embodiment of Holy One Themself.
The leaders were threatening to kill Lazarus now, too. Their fear sending an electrical charge through the crowd that amped up the hysteria.
The plots to kill Jesus: of course, we were aware of them. Jesus himself had spoken of his death; of being bread we would eat – if you can imagine! Of being lifted up. We hardly understood what all that could mean. If the stories tell us Moses did not ‘die’ but ascended to heaven, why would Jesus equate his lifting up with death? And then to also claim to be Son of Humanity, Son of God, Messiah?
I trusted him, but all that turned me inside out.
So I stopped thinking about it at all, and focused on here and now. That, I could understand.
And it made sense to me that when Jesus entered the city, it would be something of an event, an arrival. Crowds were following him already, of course, and there were also crowds gathering in the city for the festival; the atmosphere built to crazy, almost euphoric, excitement. When people heard Jesus was heading into the city, some started pulling down branches from palm trees and waving them, forming a kind of guard of honour around him and us. Someone started a chant – Hosannah! Hosannah! Hosannah!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of Holy One! They cried.
Blessed is the king of Israel!
Oh, yes! This was more like it. James, John, Judas, all of us were pumped at this claiming of Jesus as king! Hosannah! We joined in the cries, took the branches people offered us, sang the prophet’s affirmation loud! Blessed is the One who comes in the name of Holy One! Blessed is our king!
This was the messiah the prophets foretold. This was the change the stories anticipated – ride into town and kick out the oppressors! A new reign, at last!
Ooh, let’s get a horse for you to ride on, I turned round to Jesus. A HORSE! I had to shout right into his ear. A king should enter in style.
But Jesus caught sight of a young donkey, and went and sat on that.
I’ll ride this, he said.
You’ll ride that? John told him he thought he would squash the poor thing. James thought he would squash his own dignity.
Jesus met our discouragement with his own quote from the prophets:
Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming,
riding on a donkey’s colt.
And he turned the beast onto the road, and continued on the way into town, the crowds cheering with delight, amusement, but hardly any understanding.
And I thought, Oh-kaay … he’s still saying ‘king’ … but the bottom had fallen out. I felt hollow all of a sudden. The shouts of the crowd became a dull hum. The world started to blur. I stood still. Frozen in incomprehension.
This is not triumph.
Days later – days that felt like years – I stood before an empty tomb. And then, then, I remembered.
I remembered: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live’.
I remembered Lazarus walking out of his tomb.
I remembered: ‘When you have lifted up the Son of Humanity, then you will realise that I Am; that I do nothing on my own; the One who sent me is with me, has not left me alone’.
I remembered my own I will lay down my life for you. I remembered three times I do not know him. I would always remember that cock crow.
I remembered I am your Way to Holy One. I am truth. I am life.
I remembered I am not alone. Holy One is with me, and I am with Holy One.
I remembered we will not leave you alone.
I am coming to you.
I will love you.
We will make our home in you.
I remembered abide in me.
I remembered you see me now, but for a while you will not. I remembered, and then, you will see me again.
It was after the procession and all that followed that I again remembered my own words, remembered my trust in him: ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.’ I remembered, ‘We have come to believe and know that you are Holy One of God’.
You are Holy One.
But while the crowds chanted Hosannah!, proclaimed Jesus to be the king I wanted him to be, I stood still, my body knowing what my mind did not yet understand:
That he will leave us
That he will come again
And until then, I woke as from a dream, and ran to catch up with the tail of his parade.
℘℘℘℘
Sarah Agnew is a storyteller, poet, and minister with the Uniting Church in Australia, in placement with Christ Church Uniting, Wayville, on Kaurna Land in Adelaide. Sarah’s poetry, liturgy, and other writing, including the Lenten Study with Psalms, Through the Valley, can be found at sarahagnew.com.au.
Art/s and Theology Australia 
When I think of Palm Sunday I can see in my mind a little boy, selected by our Sunday school, riding down the isle on his blue donkey while the parishioners waved their palm fronds. It must have been such a memorable moment to that little boy. The air was full of joy and the little boy was caught in the atmosphere of the occasion; and the Sunday school had done their best; all dressed in biblical costumes made by their mothers and grandmothers. We all felt so much love and pride for that little boy on a blue donkey.
His parents must have been so proud of him, too, but when the festivities were over and everybody went home, this little boy, well, he became mother’s little boy again. He needed caring and dressing up and taken to school … and his life was determined by his parent’s actions for some time yet.
I sometimes wonder what happened to that little boy.
These old memories made me think. How do I see Jesus today; on this Palm Sunday?
You see, each one of us has some preconceived images of what Jesus is like. Our image of Jesus is often colored by our culture, our customs, and what we have learnt, read, or experienced about him. And when I started to think about Jesus
I realized that for me Jesus had become almost like my own private deity whom I met in my quiet devotions in the solitude of my own chamber.
And I realized that it was like I had put my God in a little box where I can keep him to myself. There he is kept comfortable and secure; just for me: ever serving; ever loving; ever suffering; always comforting; ready to accept my private homage and worship. In my little devotional room Jesus is; well … ‘very tame’.
So, thinking about Palm Sunday does not make me feel comfortable. It is like somebody had shaken my little box of faith and out came Jesus: a different Jesus. Jesus who is riding in triumph through Jerusalem; for all I know he could be riding next through Rockhampton or Yeppoon!
But now, it is Palm Sunday and I can see how wrong I have been.
Jesus is where the people are; in the open. And that is where he has always been; in the open; and today he is riding of all thinks … on a donkey.
He’s gone to the streets where people are; and it is dangerous there: all these people; shouting. He is there for everybody to see. He is so blatantly king of Israel; he is so manifestly Messiah. He is so wonderfully, openly God.
And that makes me scared.
The vision of Jesus being so publicly worshipped and adored goes far beyond my own preconceived ideas of what Jesus is like.
It is like he had stepped out from the familiar places of worship. Whether I like it not; as a follower of Jesus I find myself right there in the thick of things. I am where the people are. I cannot go back to home like the little boy with the blue donkey did.
You see, the Jesus I follow on this Palm Sunday is a dangerous person; and at the same time I see in him so much humility that it hurts me.
He is unlike any hero I’ve known before.
All I can hear is the crowd calling: hosanna; save us! All I can see is Jesus riding on; riding on steadfastly towards his destiny – and perhaps mine … and perhaps yours.
All I can do is to lift my voice together with all the others and cry Hosanna.
But what does it all mean. Hosanna; save us.
And what do I see and what do I hear? I see the multitudes who are suffering; dying; sick; ravaged by cancer or aids; poor people; and lonely people. I see abused children and I see battered wives. And I hear them calling to out … perhaps to me: hosanna; save us!
In desperation I looked around me and I saw that I am not alone. And I realized that we were never meant to be alone. We are many.
Look around you. There are many of us, perhaps even that little boy from the Sunday school is here; we all are the followers of Jesus.
We are the Church. We are the Christians. Jesus is riding at the front; and we follow.
And who are we?
We are the past inhabitants of our Jerusalem. It is through our cities and through our villages that he first came. He rode through our streets and he heard our cries: save us!
And he heard us. But he gave us more than charity; he gave us love. He gave us more than food; he gave us bread of life. He gave us more than friendship; he gave us forgiveness of sins.
We are the ones who have heard and believed that Jesus is more than Davidic King; he is our God; our Lord and Savior.
It is for us that he rode forth past Jerusalem to the bitter end.
It is for us that he came; lived; and died; and it is for us that he rose from death.
We heard the Gospel and we believed. We are his church; his representatives for our times.
This Palm Sunday Christ is calling us, the church, to ride together with him; to follow him and to go where the people are.
Today, on the Palm Sunday, he challenges us to go beyond our individuals structures; he challenges us to go out and to partake in the fellowship of his mission so that at his name every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.
And he has not left us alone:
He is the one who constitutes, renews, and rules us, his body, the Church. He is the one who can save the people of our world.
He is the one who can truly unite us.
How can we not follow him?