If you were Pontius Pilate, your least favorite day of the year would be Passover. Pontius Pilate was responsible for three regions; Idumaea, Samaria, and Judaea. There was one city in Judaea, Jerusalem, that was always a problem for Pontius Pilate. His job was to keep the peace- that is, to keep the Roman peace. Jerusalem was always problematic, but never more so than during Passover. Jews from all over would flock to Jerusalem. Josephus, a first-century historian, reported that three million Jews crammed into that city during Passover. Even if that is an exaggerated number, it’s not an exaggeration that Jerusalem was just packed.
Remember that they are all there to celebrate the Passover, to celebrate the Exodus, to celebrate that God delivered them from persecution and oppression. They celebrate the Exodus not as a past event, but as a present reality—“God delivers us from slavery. God delivers us from bondage.” It’s a feast that celebrates deliverance from oppression, while at the same time they are being oppressed by the Roman Empire.
Jerusalem is packed. I can imagine all these men in Jerusalem who are carrying swords under their tunics, or daggers, or they have a club hidden somewhere nearby; because they know that some Messiah is going to come, some Messiah is going to give a rallying cry, they will rise up once again, and God’s deliverance will be experienced. Every year at the Passover, Jerusalem is a powderkeg, waiting for a Messiah to light the fuse.
Every year, right before the Passover, Pilate would enter the city with a grand show of force. He would come into the city from the west; he would be riding on a war-horse and wearing armour. Behind him would be a column of well-armed troops. Lining the street would be the soldiers who were regularly garrisoned in Jerusalem, as well as noblemen and other prominent people from Jerusalem. They would be cheering Pilate on, and singing praises to Caesar, singing praises to Pilate. With this dramatic show of force and control, Pilate would ride into Jerusalem and then post the extra soldiers around the city.
From the east, Jesus gathers with some of his followers, a rag-tag group, and from the Mount of Olives, which is where the prophet said God’s deliverance would come from, Jesus mounts a colt, not a war-horse. Jesus is wearing the rags of a commoner, a peasant. As he rides into Jerusalem, those who are lining the street calling to him and cheering for him are peasants, prostitutes, sinners; the untouchables. But their hopes are high. Jesus is the Messiah, who is riding into Jerusalem, who is going to confront this army of Pilate, and with God’s power and might behind him, and with all of these Jewish warriors waiting, the victory would finally come.
Except when Jesus enters the city, he doesn’t go to the Roman garrison. He doesn’t confront the Roman soldiers. He goes to the Temple, and he confronts the priests; he confronts the organized religion of his day. He overturns the tables of the moneychangers. He rails against the hypocrisy of the priests. He rails against them for turning God and God’s love into a commodity that they control. Turning God and God’s love into a commodity that they can choose to give to whomever they wish. They use God and the mercy of God as a tool of oppression.
That’s where Jesus goes. That’s what Jesus confronts. Then, just a few days later, Jesus is executed. He is arrested, convicted, beaten, and executed. He doesn’t succeed in anything that people were expecting. As he is dying, Luke tells us that Jesus says three things. “Father, forgive them; they know not what they’re doing.” They know not what they’re doing? They know exactly what they’re doing—they are killing this person. They are putting nails in his hands and in his feet. They know he is innocent, and they are executing him; and yet, Jesus says, “Father, forgive them—” all of them. All of us.
“Forgive them; they know not what they are doing.” Then Jesus turns to the criminal who is being executed beside him and says, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” In addition to the shocking word of forgiveness, there is this tender word of mercy.
Then he says to God, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” This radical word of trust— Jesus has submitted himself to this process, submitted himself to this death; he didn’t fight back, though he could have. He didn’t even argue; he just submitted himself. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” And he trusted that all would be well.
It is a mystery to me what all of this means. It is a mystery that somehow this path of Jesus, this path of forgiveness and mercy and trust, it is that path that leads to salvation. Here we are two thousand years later, and Pilate and Caesar are just footnotes. It is the peasant who rode in on the colt and his journey of submission—of forgiveness, mercy, trust—that is the mystery we are here for. That is what is keeping us alive.
Palm Sunday always comes as a shock to me. Yesterday was a beautiful spring day, my neighbors were mowing their grass, tending their gardens. Around the corner, in the park, Little League teams were playing. It was just and ordinary, beautiful gift, a gorgeous spring day. Then I show up to church today, and it’s a beautiful morning; we have this glorious festive fun time, out on the front steps of the church, sprinkling water and blessing the palms. We walk into the church with our palms, singing “All Glory, Laud, and Honour;” it’s all just great.
Then ten minutes later, Jesus is dying on a cross. It is so disorienting, and so shocking for me. But it is a shock that I need. If it wasn’t for this shock, this week coming up would just be an ordinary week for me; Monday, followed by Tuesday, followed by Wednesday, nothing special, then Sunday would roll around. It would be Easter, and it would be all about wearing nice clothes, and Easter egg hunts. This profound mystery, this life-changing, life-shattering mystery would be lost on me.
I need the jarring of Holy Week to wake me up to see what is about to unfold. Holy Week is this remarkable gift, this opportunity to experience Christ more deeply and more fully as he walks toward the Cross. Every day this week is a different opportunity to experience this journey with Jesus. We get to gather and experience Jesus sharing his last meal with his friends; experience Jesus washing the feet of his disciples; experience Jesus as he prays in the Garden in agony; experience Jesus as he is crucified.
Then we get to share in that dark mystery of Holy Saturday with the disciples, wondering…
Then, with our hearts open, we come together on Easter morning to celebrate the love that will never die, and our own resurrection.
But if we don’t open ourselves to the mystery of Holy Week, it is so easy to miss the gift of Easter. I need this shock of this morning, Palm Sunday, to open my heart for the profound and mysterious events of Holy Week. I invite you to join with me in this experience of a holy Holy Week. Amen.