Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9 - March 24, 2024 - Palm Sunday

Today is your lucky day. 

Because today I’m going to share with you a little bit of a preacher’s secret. I don’t know if any of the retired pastors out there are going to get upset with me for sharing this, but here it goes: most good sermons have a trajectory, a path they follow from beginning to end. I don’t just mean that they “make sense,” but rather, a good sermon moves from how we see and view ourselves and the world to how God sees and views us and the world. 

There are many ways to describe this trajectory. We talk about the dire situations around us, our world, and our lives, and then we talk about God - what God has done, is doing, and promises yet to do in and despite those situations.

It’s the tried and true Lutheran description of Law and Gospel: first, the mirror of the Law is held up in front of us as we are convicted of our brokenness. Then we are told again about the Gospel and Good News of God’s grace, love, and forgiveness, empowering us to walk in newness of life. 

Or, much more colloquially, we could describe the sermon path as one going from sad to happy, from no hope to hope-full, from doom and death to light and life. 

All of this comes after the funny story, of course. 

Sermons - good sermons - follow some sort of path like that. When preachers get stuck, head back to the path. That is the general course a sermon follows. 

But not today. No, not today. Because today isn’t that type of day, is it? We don’t start out sad and end happy. Not today. Today, we turn our expectations, our worship, our sermon… we turn them all upside down. 

We don’t start with a pity party - we start with an actual party. A parade. A celebration! There are palm branches strewn around. Large crowds are gathered. It’s like a red carpet being rolled out for the king who is coming to town. A triumphant king. A king who has trampled - or is about to trample - Israel’s opponents into the dust. 

This is good news! For us! For the disciples! For Jesus! He is getting the parade he rightly deserves. We gather to recognize the importance this man has for us. We shout our “hosannas” because of what Jesus promises to do for us. We celebrate because it finally seems like the waiting is over. This is the moment! 

When it came to Jesus, the disciples had big plans.  It’s what the acclaim is about. It’s what this military parade into Jerusalem is about. It’s what the branches and cloaks and hosannas are about. Jesus is a winner. Jesus is a king. Jesus is the one who will set Rome, Israel, our world straight. There are expectations of Jesus. 

But then, he doesn’t do anything. He walks to the Temple in the center of Jerusalem, looks around a bit, and heads out because… it’s a little late? What was all the buildup for? 

Think of how the disciples would’ve felt: there are these grand ideas of what Jesus has come to do. He is the Messiah, the Lord, the King! And then… nothing. Wouldn’t that crush your spirit a little bit? You want Jesus to do what he can, but then… nothing. Not a thing. Not today. 

There were expectations of Jesus, of the Kingdom. When our expectations aren’t met… how do we deal? 

Later on, Jesus goes for a meal at Simon’s house where a woman comes out to anoint him. In Israel’s history, prophets have poured oil on the head of David and other popular kings of Israel; so in much the same way, this woman comes and pours ointment on Jesus’ head. This is further proof that Jesus is the king who has come to lead, to conquer, to rule… right? 

But there is a bit of an uproar. Why waste so much? Why not put the ointment to good use? But then expectations are truly shattered. “She has done what she could; she anointed my body for burial.” That certainly changes the mood.

It seems the woman had different expectations of Jesus. Anoint him for honor, for messiahship, for burial. Jesus sees this as service. As giving. As good news.

Burial. Not the word we want to hear. Not for our king. Not for someone we follow. Not for the savior of the world. Burial!? 

Talk about anger. Talk about denial. Talk about disappointment. There were such high hopes - the highest of hopes for Jesus. The woman did what she could, and she wasted perfectly good ointment. And now it seems Jesus has done what he could, and he wasted perfectly good potential. It’s not enough, not nearly enough compared to what we expected. 

Here he is, the Messiah being anointed for death. The Lord of all letting us down. The conquering King laying himself down and giving up. This isn’t how the story is supposed to end. This isn’t how the parade is supposed to end. This isn’t how a sermon is supposed to end… with failure. We want Jesus to win! But no, not today. 

It’s not a happy ending. Instead, it’s a disappointment at the doorstep of death. 

But if there is any Good News in the disappointment,
if there is anything that Palm Sunday tells us year in and year out,
it’s that salvation does not look like we expect. Today is not about our unmet expectations. Today is, and always has been, about how God rises above our expectations. 

Jesus enters Jerusalem with a purpose. And his purpose is not the same as ours. He's unveiling his kingdom, not as we might have imagined, but as a reality that's both coming and already here. And nothing - nothing! - will stop it. Not a cross. Not a tomb. Not even death. 

Salvation doesn’t look like we expect. Not today. No, not today. And yet, through it all, God always rises above our expectations.