Palm Sunday 2024: Jesus The King (Mark 11:1-11)

Mark 11:1-11

Happy Cloak Sunday!

What, you say, not Palm Sunday?

Well, no. Of the four Gospel writers, only John tells us about the palm branches. We read from Mark, who gets the next closest by telling us that

others spread branches they had cut in the fields (verse 8b)

but he doesn’t specify that they are palms. He tells us more about the cloaks that the disciples put over the colt for Jesus to sit on (verse 7) and the cloaks that people spread on the road (verse 8a).

So I think we can be justified in renaming today Cloak Sunday.

In fact, to get more to the point of what this story is about, it’s helpful to note the heading that the NIV Bible gives it: ‘Jesus comes to Jerusalem as king.’ I don’t normally like the headings of Bible passages to be read out because they’re not part of the text, and they sometimes detract from the theme I am going to take from the reading, but on this occasion it’s spot-on. Jesus comes to Jerusalem as king.

Firstly, let’s look at the signs of kingship:

The colt, the colt, the colt, the colt. Four times in the first seven verses we read, ‘The colt.’ That’s without where a pronoun like ‘it’ substitutes for it. Those first seven verses are all about the colt.

And although Mark doesn’t directly quote it as Matthew does, you know what’s in his mind and you know what will be in the mind of those present – it’s Zechariah 9:9:

Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Even the cloaks on the colt’s back might indicate Jesus’ kingship, because the king’s steed could not be ridden by anyone else.[1]

But certainly the fact that Jesus rides into the city whereas all the pilgrims walk in sets him apart. And the ground was often covered for the arrival of a visiting dignitary. We can be in little doubt that Jesus is making an explicit claim to being Jerusalem’s king.

And that’s a change of tactic from Jesus. Up until now, Mark’s Gospel has recorded several incidents where Jesus has forbidden people to reveal who he is. He has wanted to keep his identity secret. (Scholars call it ‘The messianic secret.’)

But at this point, Jesus goes public. He is Israel’s true king, God’s anointed One. This is only going to do one thing, and that is to ratchet up the tension with both the Roman authorities who will not brook a challenge to their power, and the Jewish leadership who have rejected Jesus but will look bad if they reject their true king.

It had to come out at some point, but not earlier, when it would have ruined Jesus’ ministry in Galilee and other places. But all along Jesus has known his destiny and the climax of his mission. It isn’t what most people would consider a climax to their work, but yet again Jesus flips on its head the notions and the values of the world. His kingdom is different. It is different by one hundred and eighty degrees from the kingdoms of this world.

Many years ago, I read a book by an American Mennonite called Donald Kraybill that called the kingdom of God in Jesus’ teaching ‘The Upside-Down Kingdom.’ As the publisher’s blurb puts it:

What does it mean to follow the Christ who traded victory and power for hanging out with the poor and forgiving his enemies? How did a man in first-century Palestine threaten the established order, and what does that mean for us today? Jesus turned expectations upside down. The kingdom of God is still full of surprises. Are you ready?

So we need secondly to consider the type of kingship that Jesus was demonstrating on Cloak Sunday:

The crowds acclaim the coming kingdom of their father David (verse 10a), which is surely a sign of messianic expectation. You can imagine the hopes that this might be the one who will rid them of the hated Romans.

But if they did think that, then they missed the Zechariah hint with Jesus coming ‘lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’

Lowly. Not war-like. Among the disciples, I wonder what Simon the Zealot felt? Remember that the Zealots were committed to the overthrow, by violence if necessary, of Israel’s enemies. And did this contribute to Judas Iscariot’s disillusionment with Jesus? We don’t know, but I do wonder.

Jesus is clearly coming as king, but his enthronement will happen at of all places the Cross, where the charge against him will be ‘The King of the Jews’ (Mark 15:26). The Cross is enthronement and victory, not defeat.

It’s very easy for us to react with disillusionment, too. Some of the biggest conflicts and acts of sabotage in a local church are undertaken by people whose anxieties about the future have escalated. I was reading about this on Friday in an email from the organisation Bridge Builders, who train church leaders in how to transform conflict. Their Director of Training, Liz Griffiths, wrote this:

Triggers for that anxiety are plentiful – uncertainty about the future of many churches; declining numbers and aging congregations; rapid social change and concern as to how to respond to these with integrity and faithfulness; and the wider issues that impact far beyond the church – rising inequality, climate and environmental issues, and the aftermath of a global pandemic. It’s not surprising that anxiety is high, and reactive behaviour is so prevalent.

Now there may be all sorts of reasons in our family background and the history of our churches that lead to these anxieties, but in the long term what we need to do is bring them to Christ and submit them to his very different form of kingship. His way of overcoming evil is not by the crash-bang-wallop methods that some would advocate. It is by peace, lowliness, and ultimately, suffering.

I guess that Judas Iscariot bottled up all his frustrations and then his weakness for money became the flaw through which his dissatisfaction came to fatal expression with his betrayal of Jesus and his own subsequent suicide.

What about Simon the Zealot? He is still part of the eleven apostles come the Resurrection. Could it be that he submitted his own prior commitment to violent resistance to the ways of Jesus and followed the lowly, peaceable king? It looks to me like he did.

Will we bring our anxieties, our frustrations, our dissatisfaction with the state of the church and the world to Jesus, the king of peace and humility? Only his way brings healing.

And all that means that thirdly, we are talking about our responses to Jesus’ kingship.

How are we going to respond to the Jesus who rode humbly into Jerusalem as King? I have just posed it as a choice between Judas Iscariot’s pent-up frustrations and Simon the Zealot’s ability to put aside his prior commitments and go the way of Jesus. But there is another way of framing the binary choice we have, and it’s more directly in the passage. As with some earlier comments in this sermon, I owe what I am about to say to the Anglican New Testament scholar Ian Paul[2].

Mark refers to the two villages of Bethphage and Bethany at the Mount of Olives (verse 1), whereas Matthew only mentions Bethany. We know from John’s Gospel that Bethany was a safe place for Jesus, because that is where his friends Lazarus, Martha, and Mary lived. One Christian author, Frank Viola, even entitled a book of his about their relationship at Bethany ‘God’s Favourite Place On Earth.’

But Bethphage was different. The name of the village means ‘House of unripe figs’, and that seems rather significant given that one of the first things Jesus does in ‘Holy Week’ is to curse a fig tree that is not producing fruit. A fig tree sometimes symbolised Israel, and Jesus’ action was a prophetic sign of his assessment of the state of God’s people.

Symbolically, then, Bethany and Bethphage show us two contrasting responses to the kingship of Jesus. Either we draw close to him, learn from him, and follow him as Lazarus, Martha, and Mary did, or we make no serious response to him and end up unfruitful and even cursed.

This is a time, then, to take Jesus seriously.

And this week, I read a short devotional article entitled ‘Taking Jesus Seriously.’ The author, a retired American Baptist pastor named Mike Glenn, began by talking about how we don’t take Jesus seriously. We like to explain away some of his teaching. Some of us even think he was rather extreme in saying that he had to die on the Cross for our sins. Can’t we just say sorry and be done with it?

But this is a season which shows how much it does matter, just how serious the rupture between God and human beings caused by sin is.

Glenn ends the article by talking about the focussed seriousness for Jesus that we need, and which is the only proper response to him at this time:

It takes a focused effort to begin to our lives more seriously and when we begin to think about our lives and purpose, we begin to seek Jesus again. He’s the only one who knows how to make life matter. As Peter confessed, “Only You, Lord, have the words of life.”

Only by focusing on Christ are we able to take our attention away from the sin that tempts us and still seeks to destroy us. We don’t overcome temptation by fighting it. We overcome temptation by ignoring it, by no longer desiring it.

Believe it or not, it’s in watching Jesus die that we learn to live. It’s only when we begin take Jesus seriously that we can take ourselves seriously.

Easter tells us how seriously Jesus takes us. Now, the question we have to answer is how seriously we’ll take Jesus.


[1] Ian Paul, Jesus enters Jerusalem on ‘Palm Sunday’ in Mark 11

[2] Op. cit.

Seven Churches: 5, Sardis (Revelation 3:1-6)

Revelation 3:1-6

I’m sure you have noticed that whenever a major organisation is in the news because of a scandal, one of the first things they often want to do is protect their image. They call in public relations consultants who specialise in so-called ‘reputation management.’ The public image must be protected at all costs.

I think it was to the credit of McDonald’s UK boss on Thursday that when the BBC reported nothing had changed there since they had exposed a culture of sexual abuse and harassment of young workers, he didn’t pretend that everything was actually fine. He spoke instead of his determination to make the company a better and safer place to work. Of course, only time will show whether there is substance to what he says.

And with that in mind, let’s take a trip to this week’s church in Revelation, the church at Sardis. This time, Jesus is so troubled by them that his rebuke comes before his praise – the opposite way around from usual.

So the first thing we will consider is Jesus’ rebuke of Sardis.

I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead.  (Verse 1b)

‘You have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead.’ If ever a church was trying to maintain a good public image while everything was in truth rotting, it was Sardis.

But to help hear just how forceful Jesus’ words are here, it’s useful to know something about the history of the town itself. Listen to what Dr Ian Paul says about them:

Sardis lost out to Smyrna in competing to host an imperial temple, because of emphasizing its past splendour rather than the present reality. And though the capturing of the acropolis became a byword for an impossible task, it was in fact taken by force – not once, but twice! When Cyrus attacked the city in the sixth century, his forces noticed the use of a trapdoor under the unguarded walls, and while the occupants slept he entered to open the city gates. Three hundred years later, the Seleucid king Antiochus III the Great besieged the city, and apparently took it after reading of Cyrus’ victory. The inhabitants were once again asleep instead of on guard.[1]

The church at Sardis was just like the city itself. In having a reputation of being alive when they were dead they too were trading on past glories. They might not lose an imperial temple but rather a community that was the temple of the Holy Spirit, worshipping the One True God. They too were asleep and needed to wake up if they were not to suffer invasion from their spiritual enemy.

How easy it is for a church to trade on its past reputation, or to live in the past when the present doesn’t seem so appetising. I tell the story of a vociferous elderly lady in one past church who repeatedly reminded everyone of the time when the church had a hundred children in the Sunday School. It didn’t do much for the morale of those who were trying to lead the children they did have at the time, and nor did it help in finding out what God wanted to do there and then in that part of the church family’s life. The only way to do that involved sidelining and ignoring the nostalgia, and then praying, ‘Lord, this is the honest situation. Things are not good. What do you want to do here with children and young people?’

There are many churches which would like us to believe the hype that they are alive when in fact they are dead. They may be trading on past glories. They may be deluding themselves that because the people who worship there at present are happy, it must be a good place. They may not want to ask why some people have left. Show me a church that doesn’t say it’s a friendly church. But then ask people if they have ever encountered an unfriendly church. Many dying congregations expend a lot of time and energy on deluding themselves. They need to hear the rebuke of Jesus to Sardis for themselves.

And they need to hear what Jesus says they should do instead.  

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you.

Get back to basics, says Jesus. What brought you to a living faith in the first place? Was it not repentance for your sins and trusting in the mercy and grace of God rather than your own good deeds? Why is it that we confess our sins in every Sunday service? Is it not because we always need to be in that habit of getting back to basics? None of us is beyond the need to confess our sins.

When I was in my church youth group, our favourite preacher in the circuit was an elderly Welsh Local Preacher. I worked out once that he had been born two years before the Welsh Revival at the beginning of the last century. He would have been a toddler during that revival, and he preached like he was still in the middle of the revival.

One Sunday he challenged us from the pulpit with these words: “Have you been converted? Because I’ve been converted many times.” And I think what he meant was that he regularly had to come back to Christ in repentance and be made new again.

If we spend our time telling the old stories, we should be thankful to God for what he did then. But if we live in the past without walking with Jesus today, it counts for nothing. We are asleep in the light and it won’t be us who closes the church, it will be Jesus.

The second of our two things to consider is Jesus’ praise of Sardis.

Yet you have a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes. They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy. The one who is victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out the name of that person from the book of life, but will acknowledge that name before my Father and his angels.

What is this about? Let’s hear from Ian Paul again:

It is striking that the contrast here is not between the (spiritually) dying and the living, but between the dying and the unpolluted; spiritual life involves purity of living, symbolized by the unsoiled garments. From Genesis onwards, walk[ing] with God signifies approval, friendship and obedience (Gen 5:22); the purity of the garments now is in anticipation of the life of the age to come (6:11, 7:9, 13). Although the high priests in the Old Testament wear linen, white is predominantly the colour of pagan worship, signifying purity, holiness and honour in Greek and Roman culture. Participation in the life of God and Jesus includes sharing in their qualities; just as God and the lamb are lauded as being worthy (4:11; 5:9), so those who remain faithful are the ones who have ‘lived a life worthy of [their] calling’ (Eph 4:1).[2]

So here is our number one priority in the church: to be people who walk with Jesus, who reject the pollution of the world for the purity of his ways. This is what pleases him. This is the true sign of life in the church.

Having a lively programme of events and meetings is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Having high-quality music from a choir or a band is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Being the hip and fashionable place to go where there are lots of young people is not our priority: walking with Jesus is. Being an institution that is a respected pillar of the local society is not our priority: walking with Jesus is.

If other blessings come, that’s great, but they are not what we seek. Our priority is walking with Jesus.

And the thing is, we already know what to do about this and we’ve heard it over and over for years. We know from the Gospels how Jesus wants us to live our lives. We also know he has given us the Holy Spirit so that we can put these things into practice. Let’s not deflect from this by saying, “But how do we do it?” because Jesus has already given us his instructions and given us the tools for the job.

I read a column on the Internet by an American New Testament scholar called Scot McKnight. Every Friday he hands over his column to a recently retired minister, a Baptist pastor by the name of Mike Glenn. This week, he was writing about the ways in which preachers look for sermon illustrations and how long it takes us. But he ended his column this way:

Since my retirement, I’ve had a little more time to think. As you would imagine, I’ve come up with a lot of theories with what’s wrong with the world. Here’s one of my theories. The world needs some good sermon illustrations. That is, we need more people whose lives prove the reality of the Risen Christ. Before people look at Jesus, they look at His followers. Do His followers show any difference in their lives? Do they show evidence of having been with Jesus? If the world sees something interesting, then they might want to learn more about Jesus. If they don’t find anything in the lives of His disciples, the world will conclude there’s nothing to Jesus either. 

As I have often said, the world isn’t mad at the church because we’re different. They’re mad at us because we aren’t different enough. 

Maybe the world needs a few more sermons. Maybe. What we really need, however, are more good sermon illustrations. People whose lives tell the gospel in unforgettable ways. People who love their neighbors. People who forgive after being horribly wronged. People who can live in hope when the world is filled with despair. Whenever we hear stories like these, they stick with us. We can’t forget them.

The world is always looking for a good story. We just can’t find enough of them. Maybe if we made it easier to find a few good stories – a few good sermon illustrations – the world would find it easier to find Jesus. 

Do you see now how important it is that we all walk with Jesus. We shall fail. I do. We shall need to return to confession every week and be converted many times.

But there is nothing more vital in our lives and the life of the church. It comes above everything else we do.

So let’s make it our priority.


[1] Ian Paul, Revelation (TNTC). p99.

[2] Op. cit., p102.

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