Sermon for Palm Sunday, Year C (4-13-25)

It's said by some that politics don't belong in the pulpit. That somehow there should be a barrier between our political lives and our religious lives. An assumption that God wouldn't dare be implicated in the broken, messiness of our human political area. Or at very minimum, that bringing politics into church isn't worth the risk of division that it will likely usher in.

And this is a convenient idea. It sands down and smooths out a sharp edge of Christian conviction. A conviction that reminds us that we will be held accountable for the decisions we make in this life - as well as the ones we opt out of making. It's a convenient idea that somehow God looks the other way when we step into a voting box. Or contribute our time or money a certain way, or toward a certain cause. It's a convenient idea to hold. One that sees Jesus as too wise and high- minded to dirty his divine sensibilities with the corruption of our human-crafted political landscape.

It's a convenient idea.              

It's also patently untrue.

It was Roman custom both before and after the time of Jesus to kick up quite a scene when important men entered the walled city of Jerusalem. Think of it as a kind of homecoming parade for kings, victorious military generals, and emperors. People, both subjects and social elites alike would wave cloths and branches, and shout out acclimations of praise for these important people, saddled up on fine important horses, wearing even finer important garb. A spectacle for sure, and more than anything a reminder to everyone gathered of who was really in control. 

So given that context, it's easy then to imagine the shock, the irritation, and the threat these same important people must have experienced when they watched a humble teache from a backwater town greeted in a similar triumphal way.

And you will have to work a little harder to imagine that this morning, because Luke's account of this event is the only of the gospels to include neither palm branches nor Hosannas. But either way, it's easy to imagine the quick desire of those for those in power - those for whom the Roman imperial system worked quite well - to suppress the hope and passion of the people crying out, "Hosanna, Hosanna!" Which we must remember can also mean: "Save us, save us!"

You see, these people had either seen or heard of Jesus. Specifically, they'd seen or heard of the power he had. But not power to rule the way that these other important men so often did. But power to heal and to cast out demons. The power to bring people back to life. And if he could do all that, perhaps this is also the man - the long awaited Messiah, the prophesied Son of David - that would finally set them free. Hosanna, Hosanna. Save us! Save us!

Being so far removed today from both the time and culture of Jesus, it's tempting to see this story simply as an allegory of our salvation story. About souls and not real politicized bodies and real oppressed people. To hear the shouts of Hosanna as an acclimation of Jesus' divinity and his cosmic status, and not as what it really was. Which was a cry for help. And an acclimation of a Messiah - a deliverer - who would first and foremost save his people from imperial rule. From their present and oppressive political reality. 

Jesus' triumphal entry to Jerusalem was a glaringly political statement. And there's no getting around that. No matter how inconvenient that may be to some of our present religious sensibilities. So, to say politics doesn't belong in pulpit is to attempt to wrestle the truth from Jesus’ triumphal entry to Jerusalem. The God-man Jesus used human politics as a site to show forth his glory through his suffering and sacrifice. And because of that fact alone, non-political Christianity simply does not exist. If politics is how we've attempted to order our common life together - God will show up there, too. Because God's not letting us go. 

Doubtless, there's at least one person here thinking something along the lines of, "Common, Drake. It's Holy Week, I came here to sing and wave my palm branch around. I came to hear the stories and to get ready for Easter! Not to get tossed around in the messiness of politics. I've had enough of this political mess that we're in!"

And to that I say: I hear you. I really do. The real and present threat that the current presidential administration poses both to the very fabric of our democracy - not to mention the numerous policies and practices employed that all but spit in the face of our baptismal vows - it's overwhelming to most of us. It's heart-breaking. It's maddening. And it's exhausting. Surely, we can just take a little break on Sunday mornings to hear some bible stories that make us feel better. To give us hope. To heal our hearts.

But the wildly important thing about these stories is this: they aren't just stories. They're real. And the contexts in which we hear them is real too. To turn our attention away from those inconvenient truths is to risk missing something critical in how we understand Jesus' journey from his scandalous and Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem all the way to the Cross.

The movement has begun. Religious, spiritual, political even. And there is no stopping what God has started. "I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out" Jesus says.

On the other hand, if the marriage of your faith and your politics is perfectly happy. Or if you think of political activity as the only way that God still works in our world - please be careful. And check in with God about that. Jesus used a political act - several actually - to bring people's attention to God's work.  And Jesus death on the Cross did not sanctify politics writ large. Jesus was glorified at Calvary - nothing and no one else. God is the creator, the redeemer, and the sustainer of our world and of the universe. Not just a cosmic politician. Likewise, we are not just political beings. We are beloved children of that same God, who happen to live out our lives in a political reality.

Earlier while we prayed over these palms declaring Jesus as our King, we acclaimed him with Hosannas. And in that we are still begging him to save us. And this time around - for me at least - I really mean it. But the reality remains, dear friends, that in swift succession the shouts of Hosanna will become shouts to crucify him. And in that we are shown that God has decided to enter - and remain - in the messiness of our human existence. Politics and all.

So, my prayer for you this Holy Week is that in accepting the complexity of this story you are gifted open hearts to accept the transforming salvation that Jesus: the very Son of our very God, the political rebel rouser, our true advocate and guide. And to accept the salvation that Christ has won for us.

Amen