Sunday, March 24, Palm Sunday

“Prisoners of Hope”

Psalm 118:19-29; Zechariah 9:9-12; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 21:1-17

Divine Service III

Hymns: #442 “All Glory, Laud, and Honor”; #430 “My Song Is Love Unknown”;

#443 “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna”; #441 “Ride On, Ride On in Majesty”

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Grace, mercy, and peace to you, from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.

“Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope,” say prophet Zechariah. That’s a really strange turn of a phrase. I can understand being a prisoner of fear, or a prisoner of pain, or a prisoner of hopelessness; those things can paralyze you, lock you down, and have you pulling the covers back over your head. You can feel like a prisoner of old age, chronic illness, or circumstances beyond your control. But how can you be a prisoner of hope? You can if your hope is real! And much depends on what kind of hope you’re talking about.

The world’s version of hope, and the one most people are familiar with, is the “maybe” kind of hope; half-hearted hope, hope that doesn’t really expect anything, or expect that prayers will really be answered. But there’s another, better kind of hope, one we call “Christian hope.” The word prophet Zechariah uses for hope is the Hebrew word “Tikvah.” Unlike the world’s half-hoping kind of hope, Tikvah means “hope that does not disappoint.” Tikva is sure and certain hope for the future, a sure thing, a guarantee, because it’s based on the promise of a God who never lies; a God who says what He means, and means what He says. God promised from the beginning, all the way back to Adam and Eve, to send the world a Savior; and when the time was right, He did. God doesn’t promise things, and then not do them (He’s not like us!)

And there He is in our Gospel – the Son of God, the world’s Messiah, the Promised One - hope personified, hope in the flesh, the living Tikvah - standing on the Mount of Olives, looking down on Jerusalem. Waiting for Him there are angry chief priests and law teachers, and a callous and cynical governor, and a band of brutal soldiers, and a cross. The devil is waiting there, hoping to turn all human hope into an ‘if’ or a ‘maybe’ or a ‘never at all’, hoping to see the only hope of the world hung up on a cross to die.

But nothing in this world would keep God or His holy Son from keeping that ancient promise – not even a cross or death or a grave.

Jesus sends two of His disciples (Matthew never says which two) to the village ahead of them – to Bethphage - and He tells them they’ll find a donkey and her colt tied there. “Untie them and bring them to Me,” He says, “and if anyone says anything to you, tell him that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away." Some think “the Lord has need of them” was some kind of code word, that the whole thing had been set up and planned and prepared in advance; and maybe that’s so, though it doesn’t really matter to the story either way. I’m inclined to think that Jesus, being Jesus, simply knew already how things were going to go. Either way, the road to the cross goes on according to the plan of God, and His promise to us gets kept.

It all took place, according to Matthew, “to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet.” It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that Jesus wrote the Book about Himself.

The Scriptures call Him “the Author of Salvation.” He’s the Incarnate Word, the Word in the Flesh. He’s the “let there be” in Genesis. He’s St. John’s “in the beginning was the Word.” He’s the Word that inspired the pens of the prophets, and the One who allowed Zechariah to look ahead to the future and see a coming King, “gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Jesus is the One who made the promise, and also the One who came to fulfill the promise and see it kept. No surprise, really, that the disciples went and found everything just as Jesus said it would be. Jesus is the Tikvah, the “hope that does not disappoint.”

Then came what we call the “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem, Zechariah’s coming King coming at last to claim His throne. The people were expecting an earthly kind of King, a throne-sitting ruler, with the crown, the robes, the scepter, and all the pomp and circumstance the goes along with being an earthly king; a king who’d issue rulings and edicts and royal decrees, and have an army to back them up. People on earth like to put their hope and trust in kings and rulers like that, even though the Psalm warns us, “Trust not in princes, they are but mortal.” Every time we crown a king, or choose a governor, or elect a president for ourselves, we can only hope they’ll keep their promises and do what they say they’ll do. We hope they’ll use their power and authority to help us, not just to use us and gain things for themselves. But more often than not, the power goes to their heads, and we don’t get what we hope for.

Jesus is a different kind of King, a “Tikvah” King, a King who keeps His promises, because He’s also God who cannot lie. He hasn’t come to rule us, but to die for us. He isn’t coming on a fine white horse, with an entourage of dignitaries and armed guards and soldiers. He’s coming on a donkey, a poor man’s ride, just as Zechariah said He would. The throne He’ll be lifted up on won’t be made of ivory or gold, but of wood.

“Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert,” says Jesus, “so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in Him may have eternal life.”

As King Jesus began His ride down into Jerusalem, the crowds began shouting His praises, waving their palm branches, and spreading their coats in the road; maybe, probably, not really understanding who their King was, or what He intended to do for them.

“Hosanna” is an interesting word. Originally in Hebrew it meant, “O, save!” or “O, save me!” It was an appeal for divine help or divine intervention, a cry for help from people who were at the end of their hope and the end of their rope and had no other place to turn. (Interesting that the name “Jesus” means “the Lord is salvation.”) By Jesus’ day, “Hosanna” had become a shout of praise, much like we use the word today. The people in that crowd had never had any real hope or real help before. They had the world’s kind of hope – the if and maybe kind - but never that Tikvah kind of hope, never the real and living Son of David, coming in the name of the Lord to save them. They had every intention of bringing Him into Jerusalem, crowning Him King of Israel, and seating Him on a throne.

Jerusalem was already crowded at that time, with pilgrims coming from all over to celebrate the coming Passover. (And what a Passover this was going to be!) The singing, shouting pilgrims coming into town with Jesus were met by the crowds who were already there, and the whole city was put into an uproar. “Who is this?” people wanted to know. Who’s causing all the fuss? Who’s the parade for? What’s going on?

The pilgrim crowd answers as best they’re able, and by as much as their knowledge of Him will allow: “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.” This is the One you’ve heard about, the One who does miracles, the One who raised Lazarus from the dead. How many of them knew He was so much more than a prophet? They’d see soon enough.

Jesus, having come into town, went first to the Hebrew Temple, and behaved for all the world like it was His House, like the place belonged to Him (and of course it did!)

He proceeded to clean house; to drive out the salesmen, to put an end to the commerce and the clinking of coins, and to make God’s House a place where people could come and pray, like it was always meant to be. (The rulers in that place weren’t going to like that at all, but right is right). And then, with the temple cleared of the things that didn’t belong, the obstacles and barriers taken away that were keeping people away from God, the blind and the lame and the people with hurts and needs were free to come to Him in that place, and He healed them, the Temple at last being used for what the Temple was supposed to be for.

The chief priests and teachers of the law - and who can understand them? - saw Jesus doing those wonderful things. They saw the healings and the miracles He was doing with their very own eyes. They heard the children singing their “hosannas” (and you can bet the children knew who He was!) They saw the real hope, the Tikvah, come down out of heaven ; and they should have been shouting, singing, and praising God along with everyone else, or at least been down on their knees.

But instead they were indignant, they were angry. The precious order they were accustomed to had been disturbed. The flow of things (and their flow of cash) had been interrupted. And those children, who should have been quiet, and “seen and not heard,” were making all that terrible racket. (Never trust anyone who doesn’t like children!) “Do You hear what these children are saying?” they yell at Jesus. “Teacher, rebuke Your disciples!” they demand. “They’re calling You the Son of David, the King of Israel; make them stop!” Jesus responds to them with a quote from Psalm 8: "Have you never read, "'From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise'?" (He’s quoting Himself, because He wrote that, too!) And He tells them in Luke’s Gospel, “If these keep silent, even the stones will cry out.”

So what about you? What kind of hope do you have? Is your hope an if, or a maybe, or the half-hearted kind? Do you really believe God will answer your prayers, or do you doubt that He can answer? May your hope today be Tikvah, hope you know will never disappoint you. That’s the kind of hope we need, the “Jesus loves me, this I know” kind of hope. That’s the kind of hope that will bring us through our troubles, through life and death and everything in between. Because real hope is anchored and rooted and set in stone in a real and living Savior, the One who sat upon a donkey and rode into Jerusalem, the One who took our sin upon His shoulders, knowing He was going to die. Our hope is in the One who, as St. Paul so beautifully puts it, “humbled himself and

became obedient to death-- even death on a cross!” And He’s the One who was raised up from His tomb to show Himself alive, which is the everlasting proof that God’s promise to us has been kept. That’s the kind of hope you can stake your life on.

Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna to our Lord and King and Savior! May we all live our lives as happy and joyful prisoners of hope, and live to put all our hope in Him, until He comes for us at last. (He’s promised to do that, too!) Come, Lord Jesus; come quickly, and come soon. Amen.