Mixed message

‘Go and borrow a donkey and her colt…’ This is how the story begins. And we read that this is how prophesy is fulfilled. “The Lord needs them” will be enough to persuade the owner not to press charges. And this leads to a rather joyous parade. Cloaks cover the road. Trees are trimmed; branches waved.

“Son of David” they cry.  “It’s  the prophet from Nazareth” they proclaim. ‘Hosanna in the highest’ goes the song - an echo of the tune once sung by angels. 

 And here it might be prudent to pause; to wax poetic about Jesus, who brings a great many prophetic expectations in to town with him - or at least with the crowds who surround him…but Matthew won’t stand still in his telling of the tale. There’s work to do.

Matthew thinks it’s worth noting that the city was in turmoil - and for good reason. Soon it will be Passover - the great Jewish festival of remembrance. The city is filling with all kinds of folk. The temple is buzzing - the religious leadership is at high doh - frantic with their preparations and ready to head off any trouble - there is ample opportunity for trouble at these things - and they know who Jesus is…and Jesus walks into the thick of it.

 

Tables are turned, and overturned. Money-changers and those who would profit at the expense of the faithful are labelled robbers. Jesus goes from passive to aggressive in no time at all. And then, from the astonished and curious crowd, he finds those in need, and heals them. The focus of this morning’s reading is changing quickly - from joy to righteous anger to mercy to I don’t know what. The scribes call him out and Jesus shuts them down. 

This seems a dizzying display of mixed messages.

The borrowed donkey is a long way from that dinner in a borrowed room, and Matthew’s Gospel puts six chapters of intrigue, parable and promise between this Sunday and Thursday; Jesus has a lot to say, and most of it is hard to hear. But the point Matthew would make is firmly rooted in this dizzying day of activity.

Jesus fulfills prophecy, but in a way that both denies and defies expectations. No king worth his crown rides into town on a borrowed donkey. The songs of praise were meant to sound defiant - and maybe they were - but they echo songs we’ve heard before. Christmas peeks it’s head around the edges of the Easter story, if only to remind us that both events are linked by the presence and the power of God, and whatever else this moment in time may be, there’s glory in the air.

 

Matthew tells the story in a way that makes us face the here and now. 

The promise of peace is delivered under the threat of conflict. Wholeness is offered only after the misery of twisted religion is cast from the halls of worship. The grown-ups who complain are told they should listen to the children who cry hosanna. 

Do we need reminding that hosanna is a plea for divine rescue? 

And that Jesus quotes Scripture to those who should know better? 

The message is subtle but scathing; even the youngest can see that this religious place, and these religious people, who are on the verge of celebrating the deliverance of the people from Egyptian bondage, have failed in their sacred duty. 

If Jesus is the who the crowds say he is - if the religious leaders can’t manage the situation - there’s going to be a showdown.  And the powerful clergy of the day cannot afford to lose.

 

We would rather skate over the conflict - we’ve had enough of that, thank you very much. Give us the children waving palms and singing joyful songs. But the songs they sing won’t let us off the hook. The city is in turmoil. There are people sleeping on the doorstep of our modern temples: city hall, the Royal Bank, St John’s church…Hosanna is the song we need to sing; Lord, save us. Save us from our weariness - from our indifference - from our habits - from ourselves. 

And Jesus does - Jesus will - but not before he takes us to confront the conflict. Not before he clears the decks and stirs the pot and leaves the most comfortable among us riled and rattled and wondering what to believe…

We’ll never know if the crowd that chanted and danced with their palms was big enough or strong enough to have changed history. What if they stormed the temple and locked up the corrupt clergy? What if they installed Jesus as Chief priest? What if, on the strength of a popular misconception, Thursday and Friday become ordinary days? Celebratory days?

We’ll never know because Jesus walked a different path. He was enraged on God’s behalf - he pointed fingers at those who should have known better, and challenged them to change. The crowds didn’t understand the difference, but the leaders did. And they would see that Jesus pays for his honesty with his life. 

 

A troubling, mixed-up week begins today. Hopes will be dashed, then renewed. Expectations will be swept away and then overwhelmed. “Save us” will soon be ‘Crucify him.” We will find ourselves better at the end of it. We will know more and care more. But what starts with a borrowed donkey will end with an empty tomb. Those who sing ‘Lord, save us’ find themselves unintended prophets. The lame will walk. The deaf will hear. The dead will be raised. Just you wait.