Sure, Jesus rode humbly into Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey in fulfillment of an ancient prophesy:
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on an ass,
on a colt the fool of an ass."
(Zechariah 9:9)
But the palm-waving on Palm Sunday may have been less of a parade and more of a protest. Less of a party and more of a parody against the Empire.
Jews came to Jerusalem from all over the Roman Empire to observe the Jewish Feast of Passover (commemorating the deliverance of God's people from Egyptian bondage). Judea was occupied by the Romans who subjugated the children of Israel, but allowed them to celebrate their festivals. The Romans rulers were braced for unruly crowds swelling Jerusalem, for uprisings, and for demonstrations against the Empire. Challengers to the Emperor were traitors to the Empire and could be arrested and crucified on a tree. Jesus was not be the only to die on a cross, executed by the State for sedition, tyranny, inciting rebellion, claiming to be King of the Jews.
New Testament scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan argue that the Triumphal Entry of Jesus on a donkey was an anti-imperial demonstration, an act of political theater, a protest parody intended to mock the pomp and ceremony of the Roman Governor of Judea who rolled into Jerusalem from his coastal residence on a King's horse. Accompanied by his military, dressed in all his imperial majesty, he was there to remind the Jewish pilgrims who was in charge during their Feast of Passover. Some Jews (especially the Zealots) resisted Roman rule and wanted to overthrow the oppressors. For them and others, Passover was a symbol of Jewish resistance, an opportunity to wave a palm in protest, like a fist thrust high in the air. For others, palms were symbols of praise to welcome the miracle worker and possible Messiah. For Jesus, the crowds led to the cross.
According Mark's gospel account, Jesus had made arrangements to borrow a young donkey on which he would ride, not like a King but as a humble servant. His was a non-military procession of the powerless and vulnerable, a ragtag and absurd image of the mighty King of the Jews. This is the background, Borg and Crossan argue, against which we need to frame the Christian understanding of the Jewish Passover Jesus observed and the Church celebrates on Palm Sunday. (The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Last Days in Jerusalem).
As I post these words, hundreds of thousands of brave Russians are protesting their leader's insane war on neighboring Ukraine; and thousands of Ukrainian citizens are defending their lives with everything they have. Where is the Prince of Peace when we need him most? (This is personal for me. As a former relief and development worker who came to the aid of the children of Chernobyl in the 1990's, I made 17 trips to the contaminated region of Ukraine and Belarus. I still know people there, some of whom have gotten out and become refugees. I hear them chanting, "How long, O Lord, How long?")
Children of Chernobyl by Michael J. Christensen
Russian Orthodox Bishop Seraphim Sigrist, my old friend with whom I still interact on FaceBook, posted a poem by a Russian saint for Palm Sunday:
"The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence," the good Bishop replied, quoting Paul Simon.
Here's the prayer I prayed at my church on Palm Sunday:
In the sounds of silence, Lord hear our prayer.
In the songs of the courageous fighters and protestors, Lord hear our prayer.
In the words of the restless, orphaned, poor and needy prophets in everyday life, Lord hear our prayer.
May the violence end and peace descend.
May he lost be found and the hungry fed.
May our hearts rise up and our spirits call:
Hosanna in the Highest, peace on earth, good will toward all.
