4th Passiontide
Palm Sunday
Matthew 21: 1-11
And they
approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage by the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus
sent two disciples ahead and said to them, “Go to the village which you see
before you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there and her foal with
her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, tell him
that the Lord needs them, and he will let you take them right away.”
This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:
‘Say to the daughter of Zion,
Behold, your king comes to you in majesty.
Gentle is He, and He rides on a donkey and on a foal of the beast of
burden.’
The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought
the donkey and the foal, placed their garments on them, and Jesus sat on them.
Many out of the large crowd spread their clothes on
the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.
The crowds that went ahead of them and followed Him shouted:
Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the Name and Power of the Lord!
Hosannah in the highest! [Sing to Him in the highest heights!]
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who
is he?” The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in
Galilee.”
4th Passiontide
 |
| Corrine Vonaesch |
Matthew 21: 1-11
There is a strong element of
paradox about today’s reading. On the one hand, in all humility and
seriousness, Christ mounts the donkey and rides in stately calm into the city.
The donkey is often the symbol for the physical body. In so doing, He is making
manifest how He has joined Himself with mankind’s physical nature. He rides the
body with both kingly majesty and with gentleness. By taking on an earthly
body, He has also agreed to ride along with the body toward mortality, towards
death, towards the astounding death of the ever-creative God.
The crowds cheer
ecstatically. They are unconscious of the deeper meaning; they greet the entry
of the great prophet, the heir to David’s throne. While Christ continues to
contract more and more fully into the body of Jesus, the crowds expand, beside
themselves with joy.
In a week’s time, the tables
will be turned. Death and descent into the underworld will be followed by
Christ’s joyous expansion of life into Death’s realm; death will become life;
and the people’s unfounded earthly hopes will trickle away in disappointment,
disbelief and into hatred.
The point is that things are
not always as they first appear. There are false conclusions—here comes our
earthly king who will overthrow the Roman occupiers! There are seeming
impossibilities: a shameful torture and criminal execution of an innocent man
is really an act of redemption, which, to this day, is an act of unimaginable
proportions. Death has become filled with life, life’s benevolent companion.
The poet says:
As
timely as a river
God's
timeless life passes
Into
this world. It passes
Through
bodies, giving life,
And
past them, giving death.
The
secret fish leaps up
Into
the light and is
Again
darkened. The sun
Comes
from the dark, it lights
The
always passing river,
Shines
on the great-branched tree,
And
goes. Longing and dark,
We
are completely filled
With
breath of love, in us
Forever
incomplete.[1]
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