Looking back, it is almost
impossible to miss the strategy building toward death. But, as is so often the
case, the power of the moments overwhelm their meaning. Coming into Jerusalem
by the old road at the beginning of the Holy Week leading to Passover on the
very day the Passover Lamb would have been chosen for the up coming
remembrance, Jesus had to have been conscious of the deep irony – different for
him than for anyone else in the crowd. For the crowds, Passover was the
celebration of liberation from Egypt – the birthday of Israel as a nation.
Jesus’ reputation had clearly preceded him – and the streets were lined with
aspirational well-wishers, casting their hopes along with their cloaks on to
the street in front of him.
The palm branches, which in
popular memory celebrated the Jewish victory of Judas Maccabeus over their
oppressors a century and a half before, were a clear challenge to the Roman
occupying force. Perhaps the crowds were so caught up in their frenzied longing
for help from this new deliverer Messiah, their Hosanna’s echoing along the
narrow streets heralding His entrance, that they didn’t notice He was riding on
a donkey – a lowly beast of burden. He knew Who He was and would be true to
Himself until the very end.
It must have surprised more
than a few that, instead of confronting the Roman legions, Jesus made His way
into the temple – and cleared the Court of the Gentiles. Instead of being a
place in which the Gentiles could come and pray, it had become a place of business.
And shady business at that, as unscrupulous merchants charged a premium to the
out-of-towners purchasing animals for sacrifice. Apparently the rituals of
worship for the faithful were not to be allowed to exclude the stranger and
alien; they, too, had a place in which they could come before the Father. The
salvation He came to bring would not leave anyone out. Besides, by week’s end,
the animal sacrifices would not be needed any longer.
His answer to the calls for
deliverance were to be answered on a much deeper level than they imagined – and
perhaps more than they wanted. The expectation of deliverance in the way we
think best tends to blind us to the wonder of deliverance in any other way. So
much so that, along with the rest of the crowd, we might well find ourselves in
a few days time, turning on the One to Whom we had first called for help!
Until I have fully come to
terms with the fact of my dying, I won’t be ready for any salvation which does
not promise to extend what I think is living. That, perhaps, is why it is so
hard to keep thinking – even occasionally – about the day of my death. To do so
would be to remind me of Jesus’ gracious invitation to join Him as He
courageously leads the way to Death. The only way to Life.
Hosanna! Save Us!
