Palm Sunday Homily - April 5, 2020 - The Fickle Crowd

The Crucifixion of Jesus Christ Icon

I.

Humanity can be awfully fickle.

One moment we can be seemingly getting it so right,
 only for us to turn around the very next moment
  and get it so very wrong.

One moment, we can be happy and kind to our family,
 and the next moment we are at each other's throats,
  whether that be because the kids have a bad attitude,
   or when our estranged family gives us a tense phone call,
    or even when we simply miss a meal.

We are caring for our neighbors on moment,
 and then the next we ignore them and turn our faces away,
  whether that be because of their ethnicity,
   their spoken language,
    or even because of their socio-economic status:
     which is a fancy way of saying,
      sometimes we desperately ignore people because they are poor.

We are loving God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength,
 and the next moment we scream, "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

II.

The crowd in the Passion Gospel of Matthew
 play our humanity in its most fickle state.
  And often we don't look too close at what the crowd does in this Gospel passage
   because the closer we look, the more we realize that we are just like the crowd.

Look more closely with me around the shiftiness of the crowd
 in the Passion narrative.

When Jesus rides into town,
 with his anointing as Messiah so obvious to all of us standing and looking,
  we, the crowd, cry out, "Hosanna to the Son of David!"

Part of why this is so important,
 is that Jesus rides into town in the same manner as the prophets predicted,
  and the common understanding of the Messiah is that he would be a liberator,
   throwing off of the Roman oppressors,
    and the crowd sees Jesus as this liberator.
     They are excited because the Jewish Messiah is finally going to restore
       the kingdom of David,
        and are finally going to expel Rome from Israel.

There are hopes and dreams caught up in how people see Jesus's Triumphal Entry
 into Jerusalem, the city of the Kings of Israel.

And yet this same Jesus who we, the crowd, acclaim as Messiah,
 once the chant dies down and once we forget the excitement of his entry into Jerusalem,
  we then shout before Pilate, the Roman governor,
   "Crucify him!"

Because we, the crowd, know that Jesus the liberator
 turns out to not have the military power that we expected.
  If Jesus was the Messiah,
   he would have easily done away with Pilate and the Roman legionaries that came to capture him,
    he would have astounded us with his power,
     he would have done...well, something that destroyed Rome!

And now that Jesus was tried for blasphemy by the Jewish leaders,
 and handed over to the Roman government,
  we, the crowd, know that if we claim Jesus,
   the Roman legionaries will surely kill us!
    If we don't disown Jesus, we will be crucified with him!
     I don't want to die, I didn't sign up for this!
      And in a short and panicked jump of logic, we see Jesus as expendable,
       and shout, "Away with him! Crucify him!"

We, the crowd,
 then are given a choice by the Roman governor:
  which Jesus do you want?

Pilate offers to release a Roman prisoner,
 and the choice is both ironic and tragic:
  Pilate basically asks,
   "Do you want Jesus the Messiah,
    or the insurrectionist Jesus Barabbas?"

And Pilate is very shrewd and cunning in his offer:
 "Okay crowds: Do you want the Messiah that looks like the liberator you want,
  Jesus Barabbas who carries weapons and fights to overthrow Rome,
   or do you want Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah that carries no sword and has done no wrong?"

And we, the crowd, staying true to our fickle nature,
 choose the Messiah that looks like what we want.
  We want a Messiah that carries weapons,
    that uses military might to save us,
     that kills anyone standing in his way.
      We can't stand a Messiah that gets killed by the evil Roman Empire,
        we can't stand a Messiah that refuses to fight back,
         we can't stand a Messiah that is...weak.

And so we mock Jesus,
 even while Jesus carries his cross down the road to Golgotha,
  even as he hangs from the Cross,
   and even as Jesus gives up his spirit and breaths his last.

We look in disgust,
 a weak Messiah that couldn't even save himself.

III.

But outside the crowd,

 flickers of the true meaning of Jesus's Passion begin to surface. 

Jesus's words to the now scattered disciples now sit heavy in our imaginations,

 "...the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. 

  They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles 

   to be mocked and flogged and crucified. 

    On the third day he will be raised to life!” [Matthew 20:17-20]

As we, the crowd, cheer his Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

 because we think Jesus is coming to overthrow Rome,

  Jesus's own words point us to a much more universal enemy than just a worldly empire.

And as Jesus refuses to answer Pilate,

 to Pilate's astonishment,

  Jesus carries his cross to Golgotha, not simply in defeat,

   but as an athlete pushes themselves in the last leg of a marathon.

And even as we, the crowd, 

 see the final defeat of Jesus as he dies,

  something cosmic whispers along the countryside

   that something else has happened.

Whispers in the crowd that the temple veil between the Holy of Holies

 housing the very presence of God,

  has been torn in two. 

Whispers in the crowd that people who were dead

 were coming out of their graves,

  and returning home.

Whispers that the very rocks of the countryside have cracked

 from an earthquake that happened earlier that day. 

  Right at the time when Jesus died. 

And we, the crowd,

 leave hearing whispers of something more,

  whispers that something else had happened,

   something that we can't put our finger on,

    but nonetheless, it is a building pit in our stomach. 

And all we are left with is a single centurion and his soldiers,

 that breaks the silence of our silent judgement,

  and says, 

   "Truly, this man was the Son of God!"

...

...maybe these Roman soldiers are onto something. 

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.