Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
According to Mark 11:1-11, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem a few days before Passover is undertaken with forethought. Mark devotes half of today’s lection to the matter of borrowing a “colt” for Jesus to ride. There is no need to invoke supernatural forces to account for the local townfolks’ ready agreement to the disciples’ request to use the animal, never previously ridden. Jesus most probably had made arrangements for this. The Greek term for “colt” can suggest either a young horse or donkey, but other gospels indicate it was the latter. Some sources also suggest that such an animal, used by a person of authority, would indicate that they were arriving peacefully, not in combat. Unridden animals were preferred for ceremonial use. There are no “palms” in Mark, as in other gospels—simply “leafy branches” from the fields strewn on the road.
Jesus’ approach to Jerusalem is not “triumphal” in any sense that the Jerusalem crowds, or even Jesus’ own followers, would recognize. His slow approach from the east on a young donkey presents an almost comical counterpoint to the annual arrival before Passover of the Roman governor from the west. The Jewish population more than doubled at Passover, fortified by pilgrims from the countryside and diaspora Jews from abroad. It was not lost on Rome that Passover commemorated God’s deliverance of Hebrew captives from the grip of a more ancient major power, Egypt. The Roman processional would feature a pompous display of military muscle to discourage revolt.
Those who precede and follow Jesus on his slow ride shout “Hosanna!” – “Save us!” They also call out blessings alluding to the anticipated deliverer from David’s line, the messiah who would bring peace. This time, Jesus does not silence the messianic allusion; yet, he does not act as deliverer would. Custom would have dictated that an emancipator would lead his followers all the way to the Temple and there, seek divine blessing through sacrifice before seizing military and political power. Jesus indeed enters the Temple; but he does not follow through with the rites his admirers may well have expected. He simply “looks around at everything,” then withdraws to Bethany (v.11). Undoubtedly, many who had praised him, expecting a political coup, were bitterly disappointed.
Thanks to the fact that ever fewer church members attend special Holy Week services, many preachers feel they must devote Palm/Passion Sunday services to a dramatic reading of the Passion and a sermon that leaves parishioners huddled in Holy Saturday darkness. (They won’t return, after all, until Easter morning.) Attention to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is relatively brief, sometimes condensed into a cheery parade of palm-waving children shouting “Hosanna!” Yet, failing to explore from the pulpit, historically and contextually, the significance of Jesus’ decidedly non-triumphal entry into the tension-filled city of Jerusalem is to cast aside a precious opportunity. Jesus pointedly refuses to engage in what one would expect of a deliverer: a ceremonial sacrifice at the Temple, seeking divine blessing on the next step: the seizure of military and political power. In the US today, some Christians are persuaded that Jesus wants them to garner political clout, enough to enforce their religiously-driven social convictions as the law of the land. In such a time, it matters greatly that Jesus refused to seize political and military power to enforce God’s reign. God pours saving power into the world, not through political domination and threatened violence, but in an apparent secular triumph: the utter vulnerability and appalling “weakness” of the condemned and crucified Lord.
Insights into Biblical Greek Grammar and Syntax 