“Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.”
The readings for today open with Jesus triumphantly—yet humbly—riding into Jerusalem. I love to picture this scene. People spot him at a distance and run to make preparations, laying down their cloaks and whatever else they can find to build a makeshift path, a humble version of rolling out the red carpet for the one they believed to be a descendant of King David, and the one who would liberate them from Roman oppression. Even though, by most accounts, he is not the kind of king they expected, nor does he wield the power they imagined, they still recognize him as one sent by God—and, more importantly, they recognize their need for a savior. So they lay down all they have before him; not much, and not perfectly, but sincerely—fashioning a humble path with cloaks and branches as they welcome the one who has come to save them.
The deeper question that Lent is meant to spark is this: Have we, like the people of Jerusalem, come to recognize our need for a savior?
We have now journeyed for almost 40 days, giving up or taking on practices that deny ourselves and turn us toward God. But these disciplines in themselves will not make us holy—only God can do that. In fact, I imagine most of us have stumbled more than once over the past few weeks.
But perhaps that is precisely the point.
The question is not whether we perfectly kept the commitments we made at the start of Lent, or how many times we resolved to “do better tomorrow.” Rather, the deeper question that Lent is meant to spark is this: Have we, like the people of Jerusalem, come to recognize our need for a savior? Do we recognize Christ coming to save us, and are we open and ready to welcome him, even in the midst of our imperfection?
As we stand at the threshold of Holy Week, let us ask ourselves: How can we courageously accompany Jesus in his journey over the next few days?
To cry out “Hosanna” is not only to praise Jesus as the one who has the power to save; it is also the honest prayer of those who know they cannot save themselves. It is the cry of imperfect hearts, learning to lay down what little they have and to welcome him anyway.
Yet, this is only the beginning of our readings, and as beautiful as this scene is, every year I find myself anxious knowing the events that follow. Jesus enters Jerusalem and begins his journey to Calvary. I feel the urge to yell, “Jesus, stop! Turn around and spare yourself from the terrible suffering that is coming!” But Jesus does not need me to warn him. He already knows what lies ahead and chooses to face it, freely and courageously, for my sake and yours. That is the magnitude of God’s love for us. “Christ became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (cf. Phil. 2:8). He died so that you and I might live.
We know how the story ends. Easter Sunday will soon be here, and the entire church will rejoice. But I challenge all of us not to skip or rush over this week, even when it makes us uncomfortable. The events that took place two thousand years ago transcend and remain just as real today. You and I have participated in the crowds both days, shouting “Hosanna!” and later “Crucify him!”
Let us step into the wondrous love of Jesus and follow him to new and abundant life.
Reenacting and reliving this can be a painful realization, but it is precisely when we allow ourselves to enter fully into the events of Christ’s passion—the suffering, sacrifice and silence—that the immeasurable depth of God’s love for us is revealed.
As we stand at the threshold of Holy Week, let us ask ourselves: How can we courageously accompany Jesus in his journey over the next few days?
We have prepared ourselves for 40 days. How will we enter fully into the events of the days ahead?
Let us not be afraid to feel the weight of this week: to grieve, to reflect and even to weep. And in doing so, let us allow ourselves to be moved and our lives to be transformed as we encounter the passionate suffering, passionate grace, passionate love and passionate forgiving of Christ.
Behold, the King comes to us. The redemption of the world is at hand. Let us step into the wondrous love of Jesus and follow him to new and abundant life.
Hosanna in the highest!
