From “Hosanna!” to  “Crucify Him”; The Tragic Turn of Passion Week

Matthew 21:1-17; 27:11-26  

 Introduction

 One of the great meteorological wonders has to be way a hot, clear, kite-flying summer day can become a ravenous, violent, hide-in-your-basement kind of storm.  On those days, the weather changes faster than an ice cream melts.  Not a single wisp of cloud as far as the eye can see during the early afternoon, but come suppertime, in the western sky, thunderheads as big as Alberta approach.  It’s like an invasion of all the dark forces of weather all at once.  It’s as if all those clouds were hiding behind the ledge of the horizon whispering, plotting, and waiting for just the right moment to attack. 

 As a kid I remember being so mystified by this.  I used to hide under the covers on my bed, leaving just enough of a hole in the covers to get fresh air in, and see the lightening flash.  That way I could prepare for the boom of thunder.  There I would cower thinking about the beautiful day that was, wondering how things changed so fast.

 Today is Palm Sunday.  The day when we traditionally mark the triumphant return of Jesus to his beloved city of Jerusalem.  He had been traveling the countryside preaching and teaching, but now, for the last time, he was returning to Jerusalem, a city under the oppressive rule of Rome. 

 We’re somewhat familiar with the scene: Jesus, riding on the back of a donkey, struggling through the adoring crowds as they sing his praise and wave their clothing and palm leaves.  On the surface, this appears a glorious moment, a moment akin to the bright, sunny, summer afternoon with nary a cloud in the sky.

 I have always struggled with the paradox of Passion Week.  The Sunday to Friday that sees Jesus go from hailed king, to crucified criminal.  How people who shouted “Hosanna!” on Sunday, could turn and yell, “crucify him!” on Friday. 

 But as I look closer at the events of the Passion Week, I get clues, moments that help explain that troubling paradox.  That is what I want to do this morning.  I want to highlight a few scenes from the week ahead that describe the change in climate.

 I need to warn you, though.  As I have looked at the events of Passion Week, as I’ve listened to the dialogue, watched the interplay between characters and looked into the shadows, I have made a most startling discovery: I am in each scene, and so are you.   

 In each of the scenes I’ll describe to you today, we play a part.  We are among the crowd shouting “hosanna”, we are among the crowd of merchants and priests who Jesus rages against at the temple, we are amongst the group of sleepy disciples who could not keep watch with Jesus the night before he died, we are in the angry mob who called for Barabbas to be released and who angrily shouted “crucify him” to Pontius Pilate. 

 Do you remember that great Negro Spiritual, Were You There?  “Were you there when they crucified my Lord; were you there when they nailed him to the tree?  The answer to that question is yes.  In fact, as we’ll see, not only were we there, it is because of us that he was nailed to the tree.     

 Hosanna!

 As we’ve sung about and seen, the crowd gathered along the road to welcome Jesus shouted, “Hosanna!” Hosanna means, roughly, ‘save now’.  Save us now, Jesus!  Save us now!  Save us, from what? 

 Remember, Israel was in the midst of an oppressive occupation by Rome.  Roman soldiers had executed hundreds, maybe thousands, of Jews, and the Jewish way of life was slowly being destroyed. 

 Some who had been traveling with Jesus that day had been there the day he had raised Lazarus to life.  Others were the sick made well, blind given sight, and crippled made whole by Jesus.  They had been witness to Jesus’ power and were now hoping he’d exercise that power and overthrow the Romans.  Save us now!  Save us now!  

 The delirious crowd had an expectation of Jesus that he did not intend to meet.  They expected that he was going to come and overthrow Rome, rid Jerusalem of the evil oppressors, return life to normal!  They were after a mighty rebel leader, come to organize the troops, whip up the national pride, and fight! 

 In Luke’s account of Palm Sunday, Jesus is said to have been weeping as he approached Jerusalem.  He was weeping because he was engulfed in a crowd, approaching his city, that hadn’t the first clue what kind of king he was.  Yes, he was their rightful king, but a king that had come to establish his kingdom on the basis of service, love, inner transformation and compassion, not through military or political might!  “He had come to rule over the hearts and lives of men and women, not to kick the Romans out.”[i]    

 Where are we in this scene?  We’re there.  How?  Essentially what the Jews were after was someone to come and make life in the here and now good.  They were after the physical gratification of this earth,  and saw Jesus as a means to that end.  However, Jesus was all about a heavenly, eternal perspective, a kingdom of transformed hearts and souls.

 We’re in this scene every time the physical comfort of earth outshines our longing for transformation of our spirit, our hearts.  Jesus is our king…he is the only true king—of earth or otherwise—but he never promised that life on earth would be comfortable or free of suffering.

The nation of Israel and indeed, Christians for centuries would continue to suffer under the weight of persecution. 

 He said instead, “in this world you will have suffering”, “bless those who persecute you”, “love your enemy”.  Jesus is the rightful king.  The people were right to celebrate him, as we are today.  However, he came to rule our hearts.  To transform us as people.  To establish his way—God’s way, which is very different than the world’s way. 

 As we observe Palm Sunday today, as we wave the palm branches and cry, hosanna, what sort of king are we hailing?

 Den of Robbers

 The next day, Jesus and his disciples went to the temple in Jerusalem.  There he found people selling things, trading in goods in order to make a profit.  

There were also people changing money.  The rule was that only the Jewish currency was accepted at the temple, so if you wanted to participate in temple worship and you were an outsider, or foreigner, you had to change your money into the right currency—at a high exchange.  People were getting rich off those who were coming to worship at the temple.

When Jesus saw what was going on, he became enraged!  “This is supposed to be a house of prayer and worship and you’ve turned it into a den of thieves!”  These rules and practices that were being forced on people were spoiling the experience of worship, and it angered Jesus to the point where he overturned the tables of the merchants and the money- changers.   

Where are we in this scene?  What is our role?  We’re there, but where?

I was there last Sunday when I was more concerned about the schedule for the service than I was that the Holy Spirit was full in this place and people were worshipping God!  At 11:15 when Nathan began to speak after the message, I wished he would just get to the music so we could get on home, or to our classes.  Jesus was furious with me.  His house was being used as a house of prayer and worship and I was trying to make it an efficient, neat and tidy program.  I was worried about how people might feel that things were going long.

We are there when we ascribe to “rules” that are not biblical.  Like how many hymns we sing, or choruses.  When we browbeat a parent with a noisy child.   

Although Jesus was angry over the moneychangers and merchants, he was more disgusted with the disrespect paid to worship and prayer.  The worship in the temple had been tainted by rules and commerce.  Friends, we must repent of those attitudes.  We cannot allow ourselves to be part of that scene.  This is a house of prayer and worship! 

Asleep In the Garden

On the night he was arrested, Jesus went outside of the city to a garden called Gethsemane.  Gethsemane was a large olive orchard, and Gethsemane itself refers to the giant stone wheel used to press olives after harvest.

 Jesus knew that the time was near for him to go to the cross.  In the garden he asked his disciples to keep watch while he went away to pray.  His prayer was an anguished one where he wrestled with God, his Father, “Father, if it is possible that I don’t have to go through this, please take it away from me.  But whatever it is that you want me to do, I will do.”

 After praying, Jesus came back to his disciples to find them sound asleep.  And he was crushed.  “Could you not even keep watch for one hour?”  They had abandoned him.  He had asked something of them, and they failed him.

 Where are we in this scene?  We’re there, but what is our role?

 The disciples fell asleep because they were tired.  They had eaten a big meal and drank wine, and it was late.  So it is not a surprise that they fell asleep.  They had heard Jesus’ request for company, and decided against it because their needs were pressing.

 We’re there in that scene in the garden anytime we do something other than what Jesus asks us to do.  We’re there anytime we choose to suit our own needs over following the directions of Jesus.  When we think that we know what is best for us.

 Barabbas

 Finally we come to a the scene where the crowd, instead of shouting ‘Hosanna’ like they did on Sunday, shouts ‘crucify him’!  The sky to the west has turned black and throbbing.  The storm is about to be unleashed.

 Jesus had been arrested and was now before the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate.  Pilate struggled because he could find no real reason to sentence Jesus to death, his own wife urged him to have nothing to do with Jesus, “an innocent man”.  But the crowd was relentless and the Jewish scribes and leaders were adamant: Jesus must be killed.

 However, according to tradition, Pilate could release one prisoner.  So he brought out Barabbas, a man imprisoned because of murder.  He said to the crowd, “Which of these men, Jesus or Barabbas, do you want me to release?” 

 “We want Barabbas!” they shouted.  “Give us Barabbas!”

 “What do you want me to do with Jesus?” asked Pilate.

 “Crucify him!  Crucify him!  Crucify him!” the rabid crowd chanted.

Where are we in this scene?  We’re there, but where?  What’s our role? 

 We are there anytime we choose against Jesus.   

 We are all Barabbas!  The guilty Barabbas was let go while the innocent Jesus dies in his place.

 The name ‘Barabbas’ means ‘son of the father, so there were two ‘sons of the father’ in the center of the stage that day.  But nobody would simply be called ‘son of the father’: Barabbas must have had his own name, and a number of ancient manuscripts tell us what it was—Jesus!  ‘Jesus’ was a common name in first-century Palestine.  It is almost certain that his name was Jesus Barabbas, but the personal name was dropped from the majority of manuscripts out of reverence: you couldn’t have a criminal with the same name as Jesus!  But you could!

 That is the point of Jesus’ coming and identifying with sinners.  Here stood two sons of the father; two men called Jesus.  One pillaged and killed.  The other loved and suffered.  People were called to choose between two ideals that day, and they are today also.  On that Good Friday, the one ended up on the cross intended for the other, and the guilty man walked away free.  This is an amazing picture of what the cross of Christ really means!  When Jesus took Barabbas’ place, he took our place also.    

 “Father Forgive them…”

 There is one other scene we’re in.  This one is the most important of all.

 It’s as if Jesus were saying, “See, Father?  See what I have done?  I did what you sent me to do.  I’m hanging here dying for them.  For these people we love beyond all measure.  See?  Now, Father, forgive them.  Forgive them.

 Where are we in this scene?  We’re there, but where? 

 We are there in the crowd looking up at the cross to the dying Jesus.  We are witnesses of his crucifixion.  We are the ‘them’ in ‘Father forgive them’.  We are at this very moment observing the climax of the great Divine Story of grace and redemption.

 It’s as if Jesus is saying, “I saw you there along the road on Palm Sunday.  I know you had something else in mind when you called me king, but that’s ok…I forgive you.  I saw you there in the temple making rules that should never have been made, making worship a program rather than a celebration of my grace and mercy…I forgive you.  I saw you asleep in the garden.  Even though I asked you to be with me, you slept…I forgive you.  And this morning when you called for me to be crucified, I heard your voice…I forgive you.

 I’ve seen all you have done to reject, ridicule, and ignore me, and my teaching.  I’ve seen all the bad stuff you’ve done…the most secret of it.  And I forgive you.” 

 Conclusion

 When next we gather here in this room, you’ll find the lights dim and the music mournful.  Jesus will have been sentenced to die.  His skin scourged by Roman whips, his head cut by a mocking crown of thorns, his limbs pierced by cold steely spikes. 

 Despite the temptation to do so, I urge you: do not skip ahead to Sunday.  Linger in the events of the week.  Sunday’s triumph cannot happen without Friday’s tragedy.  The notion of resurrection, wholeness, and forgiveness is hollow without the gore of Friday. 

 Walk through the week with Jesus yourself.  You are, after all, part of the crowd.  You are in the story.  Go with him to the temple, listen amongst the crowd gathered there, recline at the table among the disciples, go with him to the garden and try to stay awake, lurk in the shadows as his mock trial takes place, and then on Friday stare up at your bleeding savior as he hangs dying.  As you do, make sure you hear his words: “Father, forgive them…”

 -Amen  

©2002, Shaun Dyer

Zion Baptist Church of Kensington

Edmonton, CANADA

Permission to reproduce for personal and non-profit ministry use.