By: Andrea Di Giovanni, OP
In the late 80s and early 90s “3D Dot Pictures” (officially called “autostereograms”) popped up in malls and office waiting rooms. They were both intriguing and frustrating because in order to see the hidden 3D image, you had to adjust your eyes so that, in effect, you were gazing through the 2D image, rather than at it. What made the experience so marvellous was suddenness with which the embedded image would appear, and that once you had seen it your perception of the entire picture was completely altered. I was thinking about this interactive art in my contemplation of today’s gospel reading, because, and this is an understatement, there is so much more happening therein than meets the eye. The subtitles for today might very well be: Palm Sunday: When is a Donkey Ride Not Just a Donkey Ride? Or Palm Sunday: More than Just An Excuse for Ecclesial Origami. Humour aside, a more apt title could certainly be: Palm Sunday: How to Proclaim Kingship Without Saying the Word ‘King’”. That is, how do the dots of tradition coalesce into a three-dimensional picture of Jesus as king? And what does his kingship mean?
The central message of Jesus’ ministry was the announcement of the inbreaking of the Kingdom of God. The concept of the Kingdom of God, or Reign of God, was a multifaceted event, that developed throughout the course of Israelite history (Lohfink, Jesus of Nazareth, 24-26). In its ancient origins, it was a day or epoch in which the God of Israel would vindicate the nation against her opponents and establish Israel as preeminent among all peoples. However, from the time of the prophet Amos in the 700s BCE, the concept of the Day of the Lord – the moment of inbreaking of the kingdom – was newly understood to be a day of judgment, in which Israel itself would be evaluated based on its adherence not only to the demands of the Law of Moses regarding orthopraxis (right worship), but also on social justice: how have the poor, the widows, the orphans been treated? Likewise, was one’s commitment to YHWH in worship and service merely intellectual and obligatory, or was it a commitment of joy inscribed on one’s heart?
By Jesus’ time, the Day of the Lord involved several interconnected “signs”. It was an eschatological event – that is, an event that signalled the end times and beginning of a new era.
It was to be heralded by the return of Elijah who in turn would announce the arrival of the Messiah. The Messiah was meant to restore the Davidic throne, thereby unifying Israel, and also the Messiah would be involved in the ingathering of the nations – the gentiles who would come to see that YHWH alone is God over all. In last week’s gospel reading from John, we heard how the “Greeks” (i.e. Gentiles) approached Philip and asked to see Jesus (John 12:20-26). In John’s gospel this is the pivotal moment when Jesus ends his public ministry, retreats with his disciples for a final meal, and prepares for the cross. Thus, John understands the Greeks’ request for Jesus as this ingathering of the nations.
In addition to the announcement of the Messiah and the ingathering of the nations, other signs that a new era was dawning drew from Ancient Near Eastern traditions of exchanges of power.1 These included the release of captives, rehabilitation of the poor, and reconsecration of a nation’s holy space. These are the actions a new ruler might take to gain the trust and confidence of his people. For example, following the Babylonian Exile, the Persian King Cyrus instructed that all captive peoples could return to their own lands, and that they were to rebuild the places of worship there. Tellingly, the prophet Isaiah declares that the release of the Judaean captives from Exile, and the reestablishment of the Temple in Jerusalem, was not, in fact, the work of Cyrus of Persia, but rather was YHWH acting through Cyrus (Isa 45:4-5). It is YHWH who proclaims “liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners” (Isa 61:1). When, centuries later, Jesus announces that Isaiah’s prophecy of release “has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:18-21), he includes “recovery of sight to the blind”, indicating that creation itself will be restored and that time of theological blindness is over: the time has come for God to act (cf. Isa 6:10).
With these expectations of the Day of the Lord in mind, it is easy to see why the average first century Judean or Galilean would have expected a truly stunning event. One only has to recollect the staggering fireworks display after President Biden’s inauguration to acknowledge how humanity likes things to be obvious (and loud). Whoever was going to be the Messiah
would surely stick it to the Romans, heal the fractures in Jewish society, oust the wicked Herodians, and insist that all nations recognize YHWH in pomp and splendor. Rather than a 3D Dot picture that requires a certain gaze, the coming of the Messiah would be more like a hyper-realist painting that you feel you could walk into, yes?
The scene we heard today from Mark’s gospel is familiar and initially we might be struck by the picture of humility it portrays: Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey (not a chariot) and accompanied by his followers (not the whole world). The donkey stands in stark opposition to the Book of Revelation’s description of “the white horse” and its rider (Rev 19:11). The “triumphant” part of the Triumphal Entry seems to be only the cheering of the crowd – a fact overshadowed by our knowledge of his later betrayal. I know that this has always been my impression of Palm Sunday. And yet, I discovered that the Messiah is in the details (to paraphrase a common expression), and this is not the humble, gentle, slightly embarrassing action I’d always perceived it to be.
First, some context. Immediately before the entrance with branches in Mark’s gospel, Jesus heals the blind man Bartimaeus, who has called out to Jesus, naming him “Son of David” (Mark 10:46-50). Shortly after the entry into Jerusalem in Mark’s gospel, Jesus cleanses the Temple (Mark 11:15-19). Thus, although our lectionary obscures the sequence, Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem is bracketed by distinctive signs that a new reign has begun: people were set free from their infirmities and the Temple, God’s dwelling place, is prepared anew. Furthermore, within today’s passage itself there are manifold scriptural allusions to kingship and salvation that are drawn from every strata of the Old Testament. In other words, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is an enacted midrash, conveying in an instant what thousands of pages of text had anticipated.
We see this first with the donkey. In Genesis, the image of a donkey tethered to a vine forms part of Jacob’s blessing to his son Judah. In this blessing, Jacob foretells the everlasting nature of the kingship that will come through Judah’s lineage – a promise that is later reiterated to
Judah’s descendant, David (Gen 49:10-12; 2 Samuel 7). When Solomon, David’s son, becomes king after his father, he rides to the place of his anointing on his father David’s mule (1 Kings 1:38).2 And centuries later, the prophet Zechariah says, “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” (Zech 9:9). Perhaps even more striking is an observation by Pope Benedict, that in instructing his disciples to procure the donkey, “Jesus claims the right of kings, known throughout antiquity, to requisition modes of transport”.3 Hence, Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem on a summoned donkey evokes the scriptural references to Davidic messianism through a recognizable monarchic gesture.
The crowds surrounding Jesus respond by cutting “leafy branches” and shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Mark 11:9). In biblical times, Jewish males were required to travel to Jerusalem for three important festivals: Passover, Weeks, and Booths (Deut 16:1-17). All three festivals were connected to the salvation in the Exodus: Passover celebrated the escape from Egypt; Weeks celebrated the reception of the Torah, and Booths celebrated God’s providential care for the Israelites in the wilderness. As part of these pilgrimages, a group of psalms known as the Hallel songs were sung as one approached Jerusalem. One of these Hallel songs, Psalm 118, reads in part: “Hoshia-nah (save us), we beseech you, O Lord! O Lord, we beseech you, give us success! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 118:25-26). Thus, crowd’s acclamations give voice to the salvific implications of Jesus’ arrival, which is usually attributed to the Passover connection established both by the words of the psalm and by the chronology of the gospel.
However, remember our 3D Dot Picture? The evangelist has a few more “dots” he wants us to incorporate in order to truly see the fullness of this moment. The leafy branches were not just parade paraphernalia, rather they were an essential component of the Jewish festival of Booths
(Lev 23:40; cf. Neh 8:13-18). Leviticus provides the instruction: “you shall take the fruit of majestic trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God for seven days” (Lev 23:40). This allusion to Booths, the festival celebrating God’s care in the wilderness, awakens a whole new set of resonances that powerfully contribute to the portrait of Jesus’ Messianic identity. For example, the prophet Zechariah says, “Then all who survive of the nations that have come up against Jerusalem shall go up year after year to worship the King, the LORD (YHWH) of Hosts, and to keep the festival of Booths” (Zech 14:16). And in 2 Maccabees we hear that the purification of the Temple, an action that in the ancient world was often associated with a reign of a new monarch, was to be “celebrated … in the manner of the festival of booths…Therefore, carrying ivy-wreathed wands and beautiful branches and also fronds of palm, they offered hymns of thanksgiving to him who had given success to the purifying of his own holy place” (2 Macc 10:6-7).4 Together, the donkey, the leafy branches, and the shout of Hosanna all echo moments in Israel’s history when God’s kingship and salvation of Israel are celebrated.
A pause, perhaps, to digest all of this.
Mark’s gospel is considered to be the earliest of the four canonical gospels, and it is frequently described as the “roughest” and the least sophisticated of the four. However, in this brief scene of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, preceded by a healing and followed by a temple cleansing, Mark manages to capture the entirety of salvation history, the covenantal promises of the Day of the Lord, and Ancient Near Eastern monarchic customs. The unambiguous image that pops out in three-dimensional clarity is of a new king entering the holy city in anticipation of enthronement.
And yet, what kind of king is Jesus?
We know the rest of the story. In the days ahead we will relive the events of Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection and perhaps ask why. Why did the signs of the reign of God effected by his healings and miracles put him at odds with the leaders? Why was Jesus’ desire to make God as accessible as possible (through forgiveness and healings) so threatening? Why was it so impossible for the political rulers of his day to acknowledge that they were not the highest moral authority? Jesus’ messiahship lies in his uncompromising commitment to bring people to the Father through service and authenticity. Jesus’ messiahship is a counter-intuitive expression of kingship because it was not about achieving and preserving a certain status, but rather a fervent desire for all people to know God through him.
In his description of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, Mark brings to life the scriptural traditions underpinning Jesus’ identity, and we, who would normally be holding palms, participate in the joyful cry of acclamation identifying him as the Messiah. With this shout, however, comes responsibility, and the questions voiced moments ago we must turn to our own lives and to the actions of the Church in the world. Jesus desired to make God and the heartfelt worship of God as accessible as possible for as many people as possible: do we do the same? Does the Church do the same? Recent magisterial pronouncements about LGBTQ2S+ communities suggest “the Church” is afraid to make this path accessible to all, not simply because of the refusal to bless unions, but more painfully because of the dehumanizing language used to describe LGBTQ2S+ brothers and sisters. And yet “the Church” is so much more than a document from the magisterium; we the Church, striving to live like Jesus, are called to heal and mend and welcome.
Jesus, the messiah who arrives “humble and riding on a donkey”, messages to the political world of Jerusalem that God is the absolute moral authority – a conviction he held so deeply that he does not waver from it, even if it means death on a cross (Phil 2:8), for capitulation would have acknowledged the Emperor as more authoritative. Hence, where does our society cooperate with systems that downplay the reality of God in order to enhance its own authority? And in what ways is the Church more invested in its own structures of governance rather than
having the courage to be an ecclesial body shepherded by the full spectrum of the baptized? How can we change this?
The many resonances of today’s readings might be too much to ingest in one go. Paradoxically, Jesus’ kingship is conveyed in the simplest of actions: riding a donkey through the gates while the crowd sings. What I hope we will carry into this Holy Week, what I hope we will not be able to “unsee” is the three-dimensional picture of Jesus as he brings the messianic hopes of Israel to life in a midrashic action that interweaves the entire canon of salvation history.
Works Consulted
Kennard Jr., J. Spencer. “‘Hosanna’ and the Purpose of Jesus’”. Journal of Biblical Literature 67/2. 1948: 171-176.
Lohfink, Gerhard. Jesus of Nazareth: What He Wanted, Who He Was. Translated by Linda M. Maloney. Collegeville Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2012.
Ratzinger, Joseph, Pope Benedict. Jesus of Nazareth: Part Two: Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011.