Imagine yourself part of a crowd camped along the road to Jerusalem, at the foot of the Mount of Olives. Passover is near. Pilgrims from many lands have gathered at this holy city. You have come to remember how God delivered our people from slavery in Egypt. You gather to watch for God to come again in a Savior the Messiah. Somewhere in the crowd, a young woman rises from her restless sleep. She looks at the huge stone ramp that leads to the mighty gates that mark the eastern city limits of Jerusalem. She closes her eyes and remembers the words of a Psalm she had learned as a child.
“Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the LORD.”
Just on the other side of the gates is the temple courtyard. It was there that she first really felt the presence of God. She was a young girl, in the middle of a large crowd of people singing “Save us, O God of our salvation.” She had felt a warm tingling sensation that spread from the tips of her fingers into her bones and throughout her body like a familiar, warm, loving embrace.
She opens her eyes and looks over at her child. “He looks so much like his father,” she thinks as she wipes a tear from her cheek. Their last trip to Jerusalem, she was expecting. Her husband took so much care to see that she was comfortable that she had plenty to eat, that she was warm, that she didn’t get overtired.
Now he was gone and she misses his loving attention. For the first time since his death, she has come to this holy city hoping somehow to find him here, hoping to find the courage to carry on alone, hoping to find some hope to pass on to this child who looks so much like him.
The sun peeks over the horizon and with a loud trumpet sound, the gates are opened. She lifts the child to her breast and repeats the words of the Psalm, “This is the gate of the LORD; the righteous shall enter through it.
From the hills, a crowd of pilgrims rise and join the woman and her child in procession up the stone ramp in through the gates of the city. Women, men and children walked together—some chanting psalms of praise and thanksgiving, some talking and laughing with friends and strangers, some yawning and stretching from a long journey and restless night’s sleep. A sound comes rumbling in from the distance. The crowd turns and sees a small donkey, with a strong young man on its back come riding up toward the stone ramp. Some people follow along, waving palm branches and singing.
“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD!’
Others join in and suddenly, there is a great procession of pilgrims waving branches and placing their cloaks on the ground, singing “Hosanna-Save us, God of our Salvation.” The man riding the donkey stares straight ahead as he steers this wild donkey through the crowds with so much commotion going on around him. The sun glows from the Eastern sky and beams a bright ray that embraces him.
One older man, still asleep on the ground rolls over just as the crowd files past him. “What’s going on?” he yells as he stumbles to his feet. He looks up and sees the man on the donkey and the people waving branches and singing. He smiles with disbelief and wonders, “Who is this?” He overhears some people in the crowd saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
“So this is Jesus,” he says to himself as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. He had heard stories of healing – of the blind receiving sight, of lepers restored to health, of crazy demoniacs suddenly acting normal. Throughout the countryside, people told stories of this special prophet Jesus, about how he had been an answer to prayer for so many people. “So this is Jesus,” The old man said to himself. “I wonder if he could heal me?” He quickly gathers his things and hurries as fast as his sore joints will carry him, following the sight of waving psalms and the growing sound of praise, “Hosanna, God saves.”
In the middle of the crowd, near the donkey a woman waves huge palm branches and sings at the top of her lungs. She sings and waves and pauses only long enough to hand her branch to someone else who has joined the procession and go cut another. This is the great moment. Her teacher had kept quiet up to now, though great things were happening. She had been with Jesus from the beginning. She was there at the wedding when Jesus turned the water into wine. She had seen him stand up to religious leaders and leave them speechless. She had eaten with thousands others the few loaves of bread he had blessed. Jesus is the chosen One! She knew it with all her heart and now the world would find out. Now all Jerusalem would stand up and take notice.
She is filled with joy, such joy that she completely put out of her mind those strange things Jesus had said the past few days about suffering, about death. Her mind is filled with visions of power as all these people gather around and join in singing. “The God of Salvation has come. Look out Jerusalem! Look out Rome! Jesus has come to set things right! The Messiah has come to save God’s people!”
What a great celebration this is. After years of struggle, of hard labor with little to show for it, God answers the prayers of God’s people. The Messiah has come. God has sent the Savior to restore her people, to overthrow the forces that held them back. The power of God has come in a humble servant – the Prince of Peace. The hope of Israel has been realized.
Jesus smiles as he sees the faces of the people, as he hears their song. It was a great day. And yet, even the great noise of the crowd could not tune out the disturbing voice ringing in his ears. Even the sight of so many people, with so much hope, could not block the vision that was forming inside his head. This great parade would lead into a dark tunnel. The road to Jerusalem would lead to the cross. In the sound of the loud hosannas, Jesus heard a faint echo of the later cry, “Crucify him.”
Jesus yanks the reigns of the donkey, steering it through the gates and down the steps into the temple courtyard. A priest comes up to him and urges him to silence the crowd. “Listen, Jesus…they think you are the Messiah. What will happen if Rome hears? What about Caiphus, the high priest? If you don’t silence them, Jesus, someone will get hurt.”
Jesus turned and looked at the priest. He was right, someone would get hurt. The hope of the people would soon turn to disappointment, frustration, anger. These life-giving shouts would soon turn to demands for death. The spirit of truth would clash with the powers of darkness and someone would have to pay. Jesus knew this, and he was willing to take the risk. The time was right. Things were set in motion. Jesus answered, “If I tell them to keep quiet, these stones would shout.”
In the temple courtyard, the old pilgrim with the sore joints makes his way through the crowd and fell to the ground in the shadow of the donkey. The young woman with her child resting on her shoulders kneels on the ground beside him. The child looks up, into the eyes of this bearded stranger riding a donkey and smiles.
Jesus looks down. He sees in the faces of the child, the woman and the old pilgrim that things are not right. The world is broken. Though this road to Jerusalem leads him to the cross, he would follow it. God had chosen him. The world needs him.
With a hand from a faithful disciple, Jesus gets off the donkey, kneels beside the woman and the old pilgrim and smiles back at the child. And the child sings,
“Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!”