Hungry: Raised Voices

Matthew 21:1-17

Matthew 21:1-17

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4 This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

5 “Tell the daughter of Zion,

Look, your king is coming to you,

humble, and mounted on a donkey,

and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11 The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

12 Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves. 13 He said to them, “It is written,

‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’;

but you are making it a den of robbers.”

14 The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. 15 But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they became angry 16 and said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read,

‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies

you have prepared praise for yourself’?”

17 He left them, went out of the city to Bethany, and spent the night there.

In junior high I played basketball, and we had this weird little ritual that you’ve probably seen if you’ve ever attended a youth basketball game. Before the game would begin, we had an opportunity to warm up, mostly by running layups. But we also had an entrance, designed I suppose to intimidate the other team and get our fans excited. We would take the court and then do a little stylistic backboard toss, one by one running, jumping, and bouncing the ball against the glass so that the next person could do the same. Each person was supposed to add a little flair – and that was fine if you had any skill on the court. Half of our team, including me, didn’t. And so it became a foretaste of our inability to handle the ball, and told the other team who they would need to double-team because Zach and Aaron were the only decent players.

First impressions matter, and we often want to oversell ourselves to make sure people see us as competent and confident in what we claim to do. But the story this morning – often called the Triumphal Entry – is really a PR nightmare. This is the entry into the capital city by Jesus, who has been called the anointed one. The political faction known as the Zealots had anticipated something like this, where a military leader would rise up with a grassroots militia to overthrow the Roman forces in Jerusalem. Revolution was at their doorstep, and after decades of poverty and desperation, the people were ready for something dramatic.

But Jesus doesn’t come on a white horse with royal pronouncements and a red carpet. He specifically requests a donkey. It’s the 1994 Toyota Camry of first impressions. And the people singing praises are Galilean peasants. Let’s face it, compared to the merchants and royal officials in Jerusalem, these people are rednecks. Their little parade pales in comparison to what real kings would have – and they’re taking it seriously! It would make for great parody, some tongue-in-cheek commentary about the status of Rome if it weren’t for the apparent conviction of the crowd.

Matthew tells us that the people of Jerusalem are thoroughly confused by all this noise. Who is this guy? Jerusalem is filled with tourists during Passover, and they bring their weird out-of-town sensibilities with them. Don’t they know that, if you want to seize power in this world you need someone good-looking, rich, and well-connected? If the best this Jesus guy can do is secure a donkey, you might want to rethink your aspirations.

Unfortunately, if we’ve heard this story before – or if we’ve been a Christian for a while – a lot of the scandal is lost on us. As Americans, we like the stories of humble birth, rags-to-riches tales of the diamond in the rough who struggles to be understood. And because we know how the story ends (and the secret that Jesus is God among us), we don’t laugh at this little parade. But I think we should allow this triumphal entry to make us a little uncomfortable, to disturb us like it disturbed the city of Jerusalem.

We like humble beginnings; we resent humble endings. Like the crowd, we may expect Jesus to finally get an audience with the religious and political authorities and win them over to his side. We certainly don’t want this humble yet triumphant entry to also be a humble exit. But it is. If our hope is that Jesus would find legitimacy among the masses by the end of the week, well . . . . So what is Jesus doing here in Jerusalem? He is showing himself to be the true king of Israel, and in God’s design that means the true king of the world. But how does he show himself to be worth following?

Maybe we’re surprised by this first act under the banner of Hosanna, the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Jesus comes into the Temple and makes a mess, overturning tables and releasing the doves and driving out the moneylenders and all the people who work within this Temple system. This is supposed to be a house of prayer, but it has become a den of robbers. At first glance it seems that Jesus is expressing a concern about money invading our spirituality, and that the people operating these tables are skimming from the top. But thieves don’t do their crimes in the den. The den of thieves is the hideout, the place where they feel safe and secure. The temple, it seems, had become a place to hide, the getaway car that allowed them to continue in their dishonesty.

Prayer, on the other hand, and the temple along with it, is meant to reveal us, to expose our vulnerabilities even as it provides welcome. Rather than being a place of transformation, the religious ceremonies became a place of illusion. The right people were in, while the wrong people remained on the outside (at least, that’s what they thought). But Jesus, in clearing out the temple now makes room – the blind and the lame rush into the courts and find healing there. Children cry out in song, filling the air with just as much noise and bustle that the money changers made, but this time the voices found heaven’s ears.

And so Jesus, the one hidden and now revealed Messiah, comes to the temple – once a place of hiding but now transformed into a place of revelation – in order to welcome those who once were hidden but now revealed to be the true worshippers of God. Throughout this text, you can hear raised voices, voices of worship and protest, that sing Hosanna or yell out “Just who do you think you are?!?” The voice of Jesus calling for a renewal to prayer and the healing of broken bodies. And in all of these voices we hear hearts being revealed, crying out for justice or self-protection, suspicion and hope.

So, as Jesus is revealed, he reveals who we are. We are exposed. And as we stand naked before an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-perfect Being, maybe we come to understand why Jesus came on a donkey surrounded by the outcast and poor. Because I have found that no matter how confident or capable I can feel, I still can feel like that kid on the basketball court. How could I ever find welcome, how could my voice ever be justified to sing?

When Jesus comes to Jerusalem, he comes with humble power, a power that is not hoarded, amassed for himself to compel worship and fear. No, we see Jesus’ arrival as a sign that God is coming to rescue the weak, to welcome the broken as they sing songs of worship. He brings healing, a power that is given freely to those without it, a power that restores and invites. This is unlike the power held by the religious elites and politically important, the power held in the robbers’ den, a power that steals, kills, and destroys. The power of Jesus is the power that comes riding a donkey, heralded by the poor, received by children.

Throughout Holy Week, we will read about the way that Jesus becomes king in Jerusalem, a coronation of healings, service, betrayal, shame, and death. Ultimately, Jesus will be pushed beyond the gates of the city, to the very outer limits of its people, between two rebels and thieves. For even the robbers find company with Jesus, even those of us who thought themselves above such pedestrian displays are invited to Jesus’ side. May we become a people who embrace this calling as we see Jesus revealed, and may we raise our voices in praise.

1