Journey's Weekly Homilies
Journey Catholic Community
Is.50: 4-7, Phil.2: 6-11, Matt 21: 1-11
Palm Sunday - 3/24/2002
Homily: Nancy
"And when Jesus entered Jerusalem, all the city was stirred,
saying 'Who is this?'."
Jesus entered Jerusalem...on a donkey (or a colt, we don't
know...Matthew's got both animals there!). Can you imagine
this procession? Processions were a big deal in the culture
of this city. We know from other sources that processions in
Jerusalem entered the temple court through the Eastern Gate,
possibly on a highway built especially for these events. At
the gate of the courtyard, prior to the entrance of the
procession, an entrance liturgy was intoned. The liturgy
consisted of a litany of questions and answers performed by those
inside the courtyard and those in the procession. Psalm 118
and other scriptures that we know, were known by heart, and were
sung in this ritual.
By the time this story is told...Jesus has gone too far, he has
confronted the powers that be... He has spoken about a new
law...he has gathered a crowd around him and fed them in such a
way that he has become their hope, their "king."
The peasants, the poor, the oppressed of Judea can plainly see
that THIS man is on their side, THIS man is a powerful
presence...enough to disturb the elite and leadership class.
THIS man may be the answer to their cries of "Hosanna."
(Which, by the way, is NOT a praise word…it means "God
save, or God help us"). The Hosannas are sung easily by
those on the outside of the walls. AND they know that this
is the song of proclamation when conquering heroes enter
Jerusalem.
Sisters and Brothers on the Journey, we are called to enter
Jerusalem. By definition of who we are, we are part of the
peasants on the outside...invited to walk and sing out
"Hosanna" with our neighbors and friends who, by now,
KNOW (or think they know) who Jesus is! And at the Gate, we
are given to believe, there were those elite and powerful people
who lived INSIDE the walls.... The normal litany of greeting
for royal processions stuck in their throats, and they asked,
"Who is this?"
I believe we are told this story in such a way as to hear the
question of the people inside that city, and be asked to deal with
it, each of US in our own right. To be a follower of
Jesus today, we walk with him to those gates, we join the
procession toward the City of our hearts.
Jerusalem, the place where history tells
us all the tribes of our people go.
Jerusalem, the place where the name of
our God is sung, where people with
temporal
power make judgements.
Jerusalem, where the royal throne of the
house of David originally stood, the
throne from
which we are descendants.
The prophecy being fulfulled in the telling of this story is
rolled into the clear sign: the parody on the power system of that
day, a parody on conquerors from history who rode into Jerusalem.
Our procession is neither triumphal nor Roman...rather, our
procession begins with the saving cries of the poor touching a man
who is arriving not in a war chariot like Titus or a war horse
like Alexander the Great, but on a donkey. Our
procession stirs the elite of Jerusalem to call out their
question: Who is this?
And on this day in 2002, we dare to ask this question again, of
ourselves: Who is this man, Jesus of Nazareth? On Palm
Sunday, every year, we begin the journey of Holy Week. The
week we call "holy" brings us face to face with the
strongest and clearest scriptural calls we have, as we go on
trying to be followers of this man, Jesus. The stories are
compelling, and we hear this story today with both our
imaginations and our longing spirits. Hearing the story, I
find myself asking, "Who is this?", as he willingly
enters the gates of his judgement and death. I both honor
and fear him as he goes forward toward the fulfillment of his
life. Every time I hear this story it awakens me again.
I recognize and remember the Jesus of all the other stories...of
how it was that ALL were welcome at his table...how it was that
justice for ALL people was the message that was getting him in so
much trouble with the people in power. In my faith struggle, these
other stories are memorized, carried in my days like bags of gold.
On Holy Thursday, the Passover meal, the question being asked,
"Why is this night not like other nights?" ... The
memories of humility and pride that can wash over us as someone
washes our feet because they are a servant of Him. In church
tradition, on Holy Thursday night we celebrate and remember how he
broke the bread, shared it with his friends, and said, "Do
this, in memory of me." In Journey tradition this is a
feast of community, of renewing our covenant.
Our community tries to stand, shoulder to shoulder, as we look
toward the gates of the City of our hearts.
Jerusalem, where the disciples numbered many more than twelve…
Jerusalem, where the people of God were divided in their
allegiances.
Jerusalem, where we know the trial scene
happened and some of our own kind shouted for Barrabus to go free.
When I hear these stories every year, I find myself symbolically
entering the gates filled with my own questions of WHO this man
is. The walls of THIS Jerusalem are like the walls of
a place inside ourselves that knows about death. We gather
here, stand shoulder to shoulder with one another in a way that
should, by all rights, bring us peace. On Friday we will
hear again the story of his passion, of the judgement and the
carrying of the cross. And in the hearing of that story
again, I will hear the question ringing out in my head, "Who
is this?"
We may find peace, and the happy safety that the mystery of our
faith carries,
in the city of our hearts.
Jerusalem, where it is the sacred duty of our people to celebrate
the name of
God.
Jerusalem, where in the hills outside the walls, a stone is rolled
away,
and we see
the glory of God.
Jerusalem, where we fortify ourselves and see the striking of the
new fire
that lights
the world.
On Saturday, when we keep the great Vigil, we will stand in the
darkness and raise up our paschal candle and sing, "Light of
Christ! Thanks be to God!" It will seem to all the
world that we KNOW, in that ritual, the answer to our question
about who Jesus is. On that night we will remember the story of
Creation, watch the field of bones come back to life, walk with
dry feet through the middle of the sea of rescue toward our
exodus, sing the Isaiah hymn that invites us to the water.
On that night we will find the stone has been rolled away, and
will sing our Alleluias, many voices becoming one.
If we dare, we can…NOW…on this day, begin. We have the
question before us: Who is this? Our ancestors in
faith almost 2000 years ago may have answered simply, "He is
Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee." But in
our lifetime the question has even more layers, and is still
difficult to answer. We can walk this holy week of gatherings, the
Three Days, with this question before us. It can become a
banner of confrontation. It can become a banner of our
struggle to take hold of our OWN answer to the question.
Asking "Who is this?" can give life to our responses,
help us open our ears and hearts to the stories of Thursday,
Friday, and Saturday, making the Three Days richer yet with
possibilities.
But, questions or no questions, we know where we must go.
Come, then, and let us get on with it.