Monday, April 2
“The crowd that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David…Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Matthew 21:9
Every year, on Psalm Sunday, during the Words with the Young People, we put ourselves into the shoes (or sandals) of the crowd that gathered to welcome Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem. We wave our palms and shout Hosanna, which means “save us now.”
Every year, when we do that, I am struck by how risky it is to hope. That first Palm Sunday crowd put themselves out there. In spite of all the disappointments of the past, they dared to hope that Jesus would save them. Each of them, perhaps, had their own idea of what that salvation would mean.
Most of them, I suspect, were deeply disappointed by the end of the week. The Savior—the one in whom they had placed all their hope—was arrested, humiliated, and crucified.
But that was not the end of the story. Jesus rose. The Savior was alive—but this was a different kind of Savior than they had thought. The salvation he offered was not the salvation the crowd was expecting just the week before. For those who believed, it was more wondrous than they could have ever imagined.
Palm Sunday offers an apt reminder of how risky it can feel to hope. It can feel very risky to hope for—to seek—healing. If we dare to pour ourselves into our yearning for healing, it is possible we will share in the end-of-the-week disappointment of the Palm Sunday crowd. Too often, the particular kind of healing we envision for ourselves does not happen, at least not in the time frame or way we expect.
But that is not the end of the story. Yes, Palm Sunday leads to Good Friday—and Good Friday leads to Easter. Hope may lead to disappointment—and then it leads to a new kind of hope. If we can stay open, even through our disappointment, we will discover God’s healing at work in our lives. It might not take the form we want or expect. It just might be more wondrous than we could ever imagine. –Debbie Clark
God, give us courage to hope. Amen.