Meditation on Mark 11:1–11
Pastor Karen Crawford
First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, NY
Palm Sunday
March 24, 2024
I am so glad the rain has passed! Especially for our Egg Hunt and the children’s sake!
On Friday afternoon, the weather was clear and cool. Not a cloud in the sky. Needing a break from the computer, and longing for fresh air, I took out my new bike and went for a ride!
I took the same path through our neighborhood that I usually walk, only I went three times around—a Trinitarian journey.
Surprisingly, things looked different on this familiar path. And it was MUCH harder work, because, with the exception of a few times in the last couple of weeks, I hadn’t ridden a bike in years.
My legs burned when I peddled up the hills. I fumbled with the gears. I got out of breath. My whole body ached, yet I was exhilarated by the cool wind in my face as I soared downhill and around the curves.
I laughed when a squirrel ran toward me, stopped at the curb and stared at me, front paws lifted up, as if he were asking, “What are you doing?” or “Can I come and play?”
When I pulled up in my driveway, I was done! My legs weighed a ton. So stiff was I, after my Trinitarian ride.
But that’s how it should be if I am to be serious about exercise, I tell myself.
This is how the journey should be when I am serious about my faith, too. It shouldn’t be so easy or comfortable. I can’t just keep doing what I have always done. If I want to grow in faith, hope, love and witness, I may need to change, not the journey, necessarily, but the ride.
Jesus changes his ride on this journey to Jerusalem. He’s been there more than 33 times, for sure. Every year, he and his parents would take a pilgrimage there to celebrate the Passover. The city would be overflowing with thousands of pilgrims, some having traveled many miles and days on foot to remember the Exodus of their ancestors and give God thanks for releasing them from captivity, saving them from their enemies, and the Lord’s miraculous provision in the wilderness years.
On this journey to Jerusalem, Jesus will ride on a young donkey, never ridden. The “animal that has never been ridden before was traditionally reserved for the king.” [1] But it’s all a little ridiculous, says John Calvin, a French theologian, lawyer, and reformer from the 16th century. “Jesus is riding not on a royal steed but on a little donkey. It’s not even his own but had to be borrowed. He has no saddle, so that the people have to throw their cloaks on the donkey’s back. Those following him must have been a rag-tag miscellaneous group of the poor. Hard to imagine anything less like a triumphant royal procession.” [2]
Martin Luther, a German theologian and reformer writing near the same time as Calvin, said pretty much the same thing, without calling it “ridiculous.” “He sits not upon a proud steed, an animal of war,” says Luther, “nor does he come in great pomp and power, but sitting upon an ass, an animal of peace fit only for burden and labor and a help to man. He indicates by this that he comes not to frighten man, nor to drive or crush him, but to help him and to carry his burden for man.” [3]
There’s no question of Mark’s intent. This IS the fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
The spreading of the cloaks and leafy branches that honors Jesus as a king is an echo of an earlier story from Israel’s history. Jehoram became Israel’s king in 850 BCE, “but the Lord recognized his evil potential.” [4] God sent the prophet Elisha in 2 Kings 9:13 with “a secret message to Jehu, the commander of the royal army, anointing him as king, instead. Jehu’s officers ‘all took their cloaks and spread them for him on the bare steps; and they blew the trumpet, and proclaimed, ‘Jehu is king.’” [5]
The crowd going ahead of Jesus on his humble ride shouts, “Hosanna” – or “Save us, now!” “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Mark 11:9-10)
And then, there’s something funny about Mark’s version of what has come to be known as Christ’s “Triumphal Entry”—even though it is anything but triumphal. He enters the temple, looks around at everything, and then, as it was already late, he goes back to Bethany with his 12 disciples!
One contemporary theologian and author, William Placher, formerly of Wabash College, calls Mark’s ending to Christ’s trip on the borrowed donkey an “odd anticlimax.” There’s no uproar or conflict with the chief priests and scribes, like there is in Matthew’s version, and none of the emotion of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem in Luke’s account. In Mark, on the next day, he will curse a fig tree that isn’t bearing fruit and, reaching the temple, turn over the tables of the moneychangers and drive out those buying and selling, but, well, it’s the next day.
“Calvin is so bothered by (the anticlimactic ending) that he argues Mark must have made an editing mistake.” [6]
But what if Mark is intentional in this twist of the narrative? Theologian Cindy Rigby of Austin Seminary writes, “What might we make of it and its implications for our lives? In twenty-first century American culture, we tend to value doing over thinking. Looking around or calling it a night are far less likely to be considered world-changing behaviors than condemning rampant corruption or calling out hypocrisy on no sleep…The Messiah in this story is not like the Jack Bauer of the television series,” she goes on. “He is not confined to twenty-four hours to save the world with no time to think or rest. It might even be the case that Jesus is looking around to determine what his plan is for the next day; that reflection and strategizing are the work of the untriumphant Messiah he is. Perhaps he wants to sleep on his radical plan, just to be sure it is what God is calling him to do and not an extension of his own bravado.” [7]
So, now is a good time for confession. I don’t usually read Mark’s account on Palm Sunday. I usually choose one of the other gospels because they are more dramatic. This year I felt led to stick with Mark’s more reflective account of our humble king on a borrowed donkey, who quietly returns to Bethany—where his friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus lived. He probably had a nice supper while he and the disciples talked about the wonderful parade that day, when the crowd seemed to be on his side, shouting to the one they hoped was their Messiah, “Hosanna! Save us, now! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
Did Jesus know that the crowd would turn on him, in the end? And that his disciples, too, would deny and desert him?
Along with sharing the Palm Sunday reading that is more reflective, rather than dramatic, I am determined to keep riding my bike, though it makes me work harder than the pleasant, easy walk. I am determined also to be more reflective, as well. I have been rushing around a good bit throughout Lent, though I was hoping it wouldn’t be that way. I hope to encourage you to be more reflective, too, throughout Holy Week and the Season of Easter. Take time for rest and quiet, for listening and praying, for walking and bike riding, if you are someone who likes to do that, and enjoying the cool wind on your face as you soar downhill.
After my bike ride, I was delighted to read a devotion about Ole Kassow of Copenhagen, a man who loved bicycling. I felt the Spirit reassuring me that the things we are passionate about, dear friends, will be exactly the things that God will use to bless others and help us witness to Christ’s self-giving love.
“One morning, when Ole saw an elderly man sitting alone with his walker in a park, he felt inspired by a simple idea: why not offer elderly people the joy and freedom of a bike ride. So, one sunny day, he stopped at a nursing home with a rented trishaw (a three-wheeled bike) and offered a ride to anyone there. He was delighted when a staff member and an elderly resident became the first riders of Cycling Without Age.” His nonprofit, now with chapters in 39 countries, [8] has blessed about 575,000 elderly people with 2. 5 million rides over the last twenty years. The oldest pilot was 90; the oldest passenger was 110. They have taken rides to “see a friend, enjoy an ice cream cone, and ‘feel the wind in their hair.’ Participants say they sleep better, eat better, and feel less lonely.” [9]
Ole’s gift brings to life the words of Isaiah in 58:10-11, “Help those in trouble, then your light will shine out from the darkness, and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon. The Lord will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring.” [10]
Christ’s followers know that the one who saves us calls us to a ministry with Him that is a lifelong marathon of service and sacrifice, patience and prayer. It’s never an easy sprint to the finish line. We are the tortoise in Aesop’s Fables in a society that roots for and rewards the hare. [11] Let us ask ourselves, as our Lenten walk draws us nearer to the cross, are we just being witnesses who cheer comfortably from the sidelines? Or are we ready to bear witness to our faith in the Son of God by going all the way to the cross with him and being changed by what we see and hear and feel?
May we once again, be stirred to live and die, and live a new life of helping others, to the glory of the One to whom we cry, “Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
Let us pray.
Hosanna, dear Lord! Save us, now, we cry! Lead us onward in our journeys of faith. Guide us step by step. Take us to the cross with you. Touch our hearts. Stir us to trust you more, die to ourselves, and live new, abundant lives with you, to your glory. Teach us how to bear witness to the wonderful things that you have done through our serving, giving, and caring for others and engaging in the things that bring us passion and joy. Stir us to be more reflective throughout Holy Week and the Season of Easter, slowing down and listening for your voice, giving you our thanks and praise. Hosanna in the highest heaven! Amen.
[1] William C. Placher, Mark, Belief Commentary Series(Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010) 156-159. He quotes Calvin from Harmony of the Evangelists, volume 2, page 447.
[2] William C. Placher, 156. He quotes Luther in First Sunday in Advent, Sermons of Martin Luther, vol. 1, in Sermons on Gospel Texts for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, ed. John Nicholas Lenker (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1983), 19.
[6] Cynthia L. Rigby, Connections: A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, year B, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2020), 112-113.
[8] Cycling Without Age at https://cyclingwithoutage.org/
[9] Patricia Raybon in Our Daily Bread, March 21, 2024.
[11] The Hare and the Tortoise at https://read.gov/aesop/025.html
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