“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Amen.
That word hosanna is an interesting one. In the Hebrew of the Old Testament, it means, “Please save!” It’s a prayer; a plea to God. Why was there a crowd shouting it as they followed a man riding a donkey into Jerusalem about two thousand years ago?
There are a few theories. One is that hosanna didn’t specifically mean “save!” anymore; that it had, over a millennium, become a word more like “Hooray!” They were just being festive. Possible. There is some evidence that hosanna had lost some of its specific meaning.
Another possible understanding is that the crowd following Jesus understood him to be the Messiah, the Christ, God’s chosen servant, who would save them! But by and large, the Jewish people thought, at the time, that the “salvation” the Messiah would bring would be a political, earthly salvation, from under the power of the Roman Empire. A salvation of national independence.
That’s a strong possibility. Because Jesus does things the crowds expected the Messiah to do here. He rides in on a donkey, in clear reference to Zechariah’s five hundred year old prophecies about the Messiah. We heard that prophecy a bit ago: “See, Jerusalem, your king comes to you! Righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Here’s the king! Here’s the Messiah! Independence now! A nation united under the throne of David once more!
But instead, once he gets off his donkey, this Messiah strolls around town, takes a long look around the temple, and leaves. Huh? This is the Savior? The victorious king?
The next morning, he shows back up in the temple, and it seems like he’s finally about to kick something off. He’d seen, the night before, that the temple courtyards were full of people exchanging foreign currency into local money for all the religious pilgrims. Others there were selling animals for sacrifices at ridiculous markups. Jesus shows up on Monday and starts flipping over their tables, driving them out of the building.
Here we go! Next stop, undoubtedly, he’ll lead the crowds to the Antonia fortress built by the Rmans kitty-corner to the temple. They’ll attack the soldiers garrisoned there, they’ll defeat the surprised soldiers, take their equipment, and drive Herod off his throne to install Jesus there!
Instead, once the temple has been cleared, Jesus sits down and just starts teaching. Starts explaining the Bible to the gathered crowds. For the next few days, that’s all he does.
What did Jesus see when he came to the temple on Palm Sunday? He didn’t seem to care about the Roman soldiers he would have seen patrolling the city. He didn’t care that a foreign power had planted a military barracks right next to their church. What he saw - what stirred him to vigorous, violent action - was that inside the church, inside the temple, people were being kept from worshiping God.
When Jesus came back that Monday, and started driving out the sellers and buyers, what did we hear him yelling after them? “This is supposed to be a place for prayer! A holy and sacred place. You’ve made it a den of thieves, with your markups and price-gouging exchange rates.” The temple - the church - was meant to be a place where God’s people could find quiet and peace, away from the noise and clamor of daily life. A place where teachers could sit with people, as he did, and explain the Bible, God’s Word, to them. Jesus did not find that when he looked around the temple.
Today, God’s people don’t have a singular temple, as they did then. When Jesus died on his cross, the need for a particular temple, as the one place where we could offer sacrifices, came to an end. This was shown clearly when God, at the moment of Jesus’ death, reached down from heaven and tore open the curtain which hung in the holiest part of the temple, separating the inner chamber from the area where the worshipers gathered. The temple had served its purpose. God had shown his people, “Sin is serious. Sin requires bloodshed, sacrifice, to be dealt with.” All of those sacrifices pointed ahead to this one sacrifice, the sacrifice which would not be offered by God’s people to him, but instead offered by God himself on his people’s behalf. The sacrifice of his only Son.
But the other functions of the temple, serving as a place for prayer and for teaching, are still carried out among us, in what we call churches. Wherever Christians congregate to hear from God’s Word, to pray to him, and to praise him for his love, those functions of the temple which Jesus cared about still take place. Jesus still today wants to provide his people with a place to pray and learn about God’s love for them. So What Does Jesus See When He Looks Around this Temple?
First, we could ask ourselves, “What do we see when we look around this temple?” Small building, with some very modernist angles. Seventy-some chairs. A piano. A carpet that needs replacing. Simple decorations in an overall traditional style.
What does he see happening here? Well, no money changers. No one selling overpriced doves and lambs for sacrifices. Instead, there’s a group of believers, gathered to consider God’s Word and to praise and pray to him. If Jesus would have walked into Grace of God Lutheran on Palm Sunday those two thousand years ago, he sure wouldn’t have felt the need to flip tables on Monday, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Because in all that talk about this being his “temple,” I’m actually missing an important teaching from the Bible. We heard it in our short second reading: The apostle Paul writes to Christians, “You yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” Later in that same letter, he repeats this thought, chapter six verse nineteen: “Your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, who you received from God.”
We can, certainly, speak of churches as temples dedicated to God. Just as at the temple in Jerusalem, God’s people gather in churches to praise and learn. But God tells us this as well: We ourselves are his temple. He lives in our hearts. He is praised and glorified through the things we do in our lives. After laying out that teaching in First Corinthians six, Paul continues: “You are not your own; you were bought at a price. So honor God with your bodies.”
When we spend money on something, we expect to receive a benefit from it. I returned a shirt this last week which was too short for my arms (which are, admittedly, too long in proportion to my torso). If I had kept that shirt lying around, I would have been wasting the money I’d spent on it. God bought us as a temple at a great price. A staggering price. To what end? Paul says, to the end that we “honor God with our bodies.” That we might live our lives to his glory.
So what would Jesus see if he came to each of us as his temple? Would he find a heart dedicated to praising him by loving those around us? Would he find hands engaged in profitable and useful work? Would he find care for those who are lonely, compassion for those who are hurting, charity for those who are lacking? Would he find husbands putting the needs of their families first? Wives supporting and encouraging their husbands in their leadership of the family? Children cheerfully honoring their parents?
Or would he find hands regularly engaged in that which is unprofitable and unhelpful? Not making use of our talents, and of the time he’s given us. Would he find families divided and embittered with one another? Would he find lips which spend more time cursing people, made in his likeness, than in proclaiming his love? Would he find hearts grown cold?
The crowds on Palm Sunday were so eager - so joyful - as they followed Jesus into Jerusalem. Their zeal did not last. We are also joyful and zealous as we worship on Sunday. But by Friday - by Monday, honestly! - our zeal often fades. That’s why we burn the Palm Sunday branches every year to make ashes for Ash Wednesday. With that symbolic action, we confess that our zeal always disappears. We throw our love down on the road in front of Jesus in worship, excited to praise him, and we leave it there. Because it’s a lot easier to love Jesus in church than to love my neighbor outside of it. Lord, have mercy on us sinners. Hosanna, save us!
The Jewish people at Jesus’ time thought that the Messiah would come to save them from the enemies outside. Isn’t that what Zechariah said he’d do? Verse eight from our first reading, God said he would send to the Messiah to “guard my temple against marauding forces. Never again will an oppressor overrun my people. I am keeping watch.” Isn’t he saying the Messiah would come to set their kingdom free?
No. He isn’t. God did not promise that the Messiah would come to make a kingdom free. He promised that the Messiah would come to make a free kingdom.
The free kingdom, to which all Christians belong, no matter where or when they live, is the Christian Church. This kingdom, the Church, is found wherever Christians are found. Its borders aren’t drawn on a map; they’re found in the water of baptism. Its national cuisine, bread and wine, can be found on every continent. Its anthem is a simple proclamation: God has forgiven you for the sake of Jesus and Jesus alone.
This kingdom has no need for military victory. The people should have understood that because it’s how Zechariah continued. He said that God “will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the warhorses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken.” The kingdom of the Church does not wield physical weapons, it does not field armies. It has one weapon: God’s Word, which is “sharper than a two-edged sword.” It has armor: Not a shining metal breastplate, but “the shield of faith.” We don’t ride into battle on warhorses or Abrams tanks, but we follow our King, who is “lowly and riding on a donkey.”
We don’t need to worry about wielding earthly weapons because God has promised, we are under his protection. He said it through Zechariah: “Never again will an oppressor overrun my people, for now I am keeping watch.” Every time in history that some power in the world has tried to crush God’s Church, it is the worldly power which walks away defeated, if it walks away at all. Paul repeated that promise from God in our second reading: “If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person.” We who are God’s temple need fear no enemies outside. God has promised that his kingdom will always stand.
So Jesus comes to his people not to destroy our worldly enemies, but to kill the enemy which lives in our hearts. The enemy of sin, which takes up residence in his temple, in our hearts. He comes to drive it out, with his Word of Law; his message in the Bible which reminds us that we are sinners, that we deserve punishment, that our sins have earned death.
But with our enemy driven out, Jesus sits down in our hearts. To teach us. To comfort us. To renew us and restore us, just as he sat down in the temple after clearing it out, so that he could speak to his people with tenderness and love, with nothing crowding out his Gospel message.
Through Jesus’ presence in our hearts, his Holy Spirit goes to work in our lives, to produce what Jesus wants our lives to produce: “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” Those actions which we call “the fruit of the Spirit.” When Jesus comes to you, his temple, and looks around, that is what he sees in your life now. Because he chased your sin out of his temple, out of your heart, all the way to a cross outside the city, and he died with it there. Sin died; so did he. He rose; sin did not. Christ your Savior has set you free from sin and brought you into his everlasting kingdom. Thanks be to our Savior God, our King on a donkey! Amen.