A Palm Sunday meditation
(Mike Flynn, Vicar)
When I worked in a country parish there was a local pony club and many of the girls in my grade 5/6 Religious Education class were members. The talk always seemed to come around to horses and ponies at some point of the discussion time until one year when we got to this reading about Palm Sunday.
The girls were disgusted that anyone would think of taking their best jacket and laying it in the dust for a person riding a donkey to trample over. I can still hear one girl say: "For a donkey? No way!"
Of course the people who laid down their clothing like an impromptu red carpet to welcome Jesus as the King into the royal city Jerusalem, were not like like the pony riders in my class. These people were more like the poor we read about in India who are having to walk hundreds of kilometres home to their villages because their daily income has ceased in the big cities due to the Covid 19 shut down. What does it take for someone whose worldly wealth is only what they can wear or carry to lay down their one protective garment before the hooves of a donkey and her passenger?
Is it something like love? Is it gratitude for the free and unmerited healings that Jesus has given without discrimination to rich and poor, slave and free, Jew and Gentile alike? Is it something like a trust and expectation that though we do not understand this man we know he is the way forward.
It always strikes me that the habit of Kings is to come into cities on war horses, with glided chariots, surrounded by disciplined men at arms. Why then the donkey? The answer of course is in the book of Zechariah (chapter 9 verses 9 to 10), where a war weary Israel after hearing about the military judgement of her enemies learns about the coming of their true and final King:
(Mike Flynn, Vicar)
When I worked in a country parish there was a local pony club and many of the girls in my grade 5/6 Religious Education class were members. The talk always seemed to come around to horses and ponies at some point of the discussion time until one year when we got to this reading about Palm Sunday.
The girls were disgusted that anyone would think of taking their best jacket and laying it in the dust for a person riding a donkey to trample over. I can still hear one girl say: "For a donkey? No way!"
Of course the people who laid down their clothing like an impromptu red carpet to welcome Jesus as the King into the royal city Jerusalem, were not like like the pony riders in my class. These people were more like the poor we read about in India who are having to walk hundreds of kilometres home to their villages because their daily income has ceased in the big cities due to the Covid 19 shut down. What does it take for someone whose worldly wealth is only what they can wear or carry to lay down their one protective garment before the hooves of a donkey and her passenger?
Is it something like love? Is it gratitude for the free and unmerited healings that Jesus has given without discrimination to rich and poor, slave and free, Jew and Gentile alike? Is it something like a trust and expectation that though we do not understand this man we know he is the way forward.
It always strikes me that the habit of Kings is to come into cities on war horses, with glided chariots, surrounded by disciplined men at arms. Why then the donkey? The answer of course is in the book of Zechariah (chapter 9 verses 9 to 10), where a war weary Israel after hearing about the military judgement of her enemies learns about the coming of their true and final King:
"Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
Seem your King comes to you,
righteous and victorious,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
I will take away the chariots from Ephraim,
and the war-horses from Jerusalem,
and the battle bow will be broken.
He will proclaim peace to the nations.
His rule will extend from sea to sea
and from the River to the ends of the earth."
Imagine a King who is good and who has won his battles and yet, he comes into a war torn city on the lowest form of transport available. It is a powerful statement. Now is the time for quiet and peace, now is the time for gentleness and forgiveness. The time of shouting and war, of ruthless decisions and vengeance has passed.
The prophecy sees that it is this humble, good and victorious King who will bring a radical peace to the world. Not the peace of treaties but the peace of changed lives, the peace that conquers hearts and personalities by a covenant of blood (verse 11 in Zechariah 9) an offering, a sacrifice that brings peace.
Kings rode through breeches in city walls to bring death to the people, but this King rides in to go to his own death to give the people life.
Not that we are allowed to think that Jesus is weak. He is still the King. As the lived out parable of Mark 11 unfolds we find him cursing a fig tree that has no fruit because it was not the season for fruit. This picks up a favourite image that Jesus used in his teaching where unfruitful trees (that is, unfruitful people) will be removed from the Kingdom of God. That the tree was not in season for fruit is a reminder of other parts of Jesus' teaching, that the King will come into his Kingdom when he is least expected and still require evidence of fruitful lives.
And here is the unexpected King, standing in the royal city, welcomed by the pilgrims, the poor, those who had been touched by the last three years of his work. But the city is not ready for him.
At the heart of Jerusalem was the worship of the Lord God. The temple. When Jesus drives out the traders he effectively stopped the worship and sacrificial system. Why did the King do this? Because the system had focused itself on efficiency and profit. There was a monopoly at work where only animals that were approved by the priests could be offered and the only animals that were approved were those sold in the temple run by the priests.
I am sure there were good arguments for the inflated prices. There was the large staff required to run the temple, the taxes owed to different levels of government, the huge maintenance costs just to keep open and running a building that was one of the great architectural achievements of the ancient world. Probably there were also high wages and corruption with it. We know the worst evils tend to congregate under the name of good.
But the King says, no, the temple is for prayer for all nations, not for profit. It is for worship of the true God most high, not for efficiency. He confronts the old story of how when administry (literally, what is added to service) takes over ministry (literally, service of others) we lose our way.
This act of cleansing the temple from corporate, ethical and theological corruption was a parable of what was to come. Jesus' only stopped the temple system for a brief time but it was a warning of when 'this mountain would be thrown into the sea'. This mountain was the mountain he stood on, where Jerusalem was built. The King, in his lived out parable of stopping worship and in his teaching about faith and forgiveness was warning that the Old Covenant was coming to an end. That a new covenant was about to be signed in the blood of the King.
As the pilgrims laid down their best before the King they shouted the words of Psalm 118... Hosanna... to God... Hosanna to the King... God and the King together, as Ezekiel had foretold (Ezekiel 34:11-16; 22-24). And they laid down before him their best in gratitude. How wise they were for the little they then knew.
What are we to lay down before our humble, good, and victorious King, the Son of God (Mark 1:1, 11; 9:7, 15:39) who has died to renew us and walk beside us in this pilgrimage to our own resurrection in him?
During this period of enforced isolation caused by a pandemic... do we need to lay down the fear that shows itself in anxious action and heroic gestures and learn simply to trust in his grace? That would be a hard and constant offering for many of us. Or perhaps our fear shows itself in hoarding supplies or anger with those we have to live so closely with now? Praying for daily grace, the laying down of anxiety and anger would be a costly offering. Perhaps we need to think again what our best is and in a time of prayer, on our knees and with repentance, offer even that gift back to God for his purposes? We will be surprised by the adventure such a prayer takes us on. Perhaps on the other side of these troubles we will discover God has grown unexpected fruits around and within us. Courage, character, generosity, love, faith, resilience emerge that would not have done so in ordinary days. Let's welcome him and be surprised by what he does with us.
Please welcome the King. C.S. Lewis wrote of Aslan in the Narnia stories what I think is a good description of Jesus in Mark 11; that he is good but he is not safe. He said he would come again at a time that we did not expect. He said he will again look for the fruits of faith upon the earth.
Welcome the King. Hosanna!
Not that we are allowed to think that Jesus is weak. He is still the King. As the lived out parable of Mark 11 unfolds we find him cursing a fig tree that has no fruit because it was not the season for fruit. This picks up a favourite image that Jesus used in his teaching where unfruitful trees (that is, unfruitful people) will be removed from the Kingdom of God. That the tree was not in season for fruit is a reminder of other parts of Jesus' teaching, that the King will come into his Kingdom when he is least expected and still require evidence of fruitful lives.
And here is the unexpected King, standing in the royal city, welcomed by the pilgrims, the poor, those who had been touched by the last three years of his work. But the city is not ready for him.
At the heart of Jerusalem was the worship of the Lord God. The temple. When Jesus drives out the traders he effectively stopped the worship and sacrificial system. Why did the King do this? Because the system had focused itself on efficiency and profit. There was a monopoly at work where only animals that were approved by the priests could be offered and the only animals that were approved were those sold in the temple run by the priests.
I am sure there were good arguments for the inflated prices. There was the large staff required to run the temple, the taxes owed to different levels of government, the huge maintenance costs just to keep open and running a building that was one of the great architectural achievements of the ancient world. Probably there were also high wages and corruption with it. We know the worst evils tend to congregate under the name of good.
But the King says, no, the temple is for prayer for all nations, not for profit. It is for worship of the true God most high, not for efficiency. He confronts the old story of how when administry (literally, what is added to service) takes over ministry (literally, service of others) we lose our way.
This act of cleansing the temple from corporate, ethical and theological corruption was a parable of what was to come. Jesus' only stopped the temple system for a brief time but it was a warning of when 'this mountain would be thrown into the sea'. This mountain was the mountain he stood on, where Jerusalem was built. The King, in his lived out parable of stopping worship and in his teaching about faith and forgiveness was warning that the Old Covenant was coming to an end. That a new covenant was about to be signed in the blood of the King.
As the pilgrims laid down their best before the King they shouted the words of Psalm 118... Hosanna... to God... Hosanna to the King... God and the King together, as Ezekiel had foretold (Ezekiel 34:11-16; 22-24). And they laid down before him their best in gratitude. How wise they were for the little they then knew.
What are we to lay down before our humble, good, and victorious King, the Son of God (Mark 1:1, 11; 9:7, 15:39) who has died to renew us and walk beside us in this pilgrimage to our own resurrection in him?
During this period of enforced isolation caused by a pandemic... do we need to lay down the fear that shows itself in anxious action and heroic gestures and learn simply to trust in his grace? That would be a hard and constant offering for many of us. Or perhaps our fear shows itself in hoarding supplies or anger with those we have to live so closely with now? Praying for daily grace, the laying down of anxiety and anger would be a costly offering. Perhaps we need to think again what our best is and in a time of prayer, on our knees and with repentance, offer even that gift back to God for his purposes? We will be surprised by the adventure such a prayer takes us on. Perhaps on the other side of these troubles we will discover God has grown unexpected fruits around and within us. Courage, character, generosity, love, faith, resilience emerge that would not have done so in ordinary days. Let's welcome him and be surprised by what he does with us.
Please welcome the King. C.S. Lewis wrote of Aslan in the Narnia stories what I think is a good description of Jesus in Mark 11; that he is good but he is not safe. He said he would come again at a time that we did not expect. He said he will again look for the fruits of faith upon the earth.
Welcome the King. Hosanna!