By the Rev. Alanna C. Sullivan
Associate Minister and Director of Administration
The Memorial Church of Harvard University
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, March 24, 2024)
What was going through Jesus's head that day? What was He thinking as He descended the Mount of Olives to make His way to the holy city of Jerusalem? Here and elsewhere in Mark's telling of the gospel narrative, the focus is more on Jesus's actions than His thoughts. The authors are more interested in Jesus's external effects than His interior intimacies. So we are left to wonder. It's not hard to imagine Jesus being preoccupied and distracted that day. Jesus meticulously planned His procession into Jerusalem. It is telling that the procession began from the Mount of Olives, the place from which people expected the final battle for Jerusalem's liberation to begin. And Jesus provided His disciples with explicit instructions about how and where to find this colt that He would ride into town. It would be in the next village. It must never have been written before. They should untie it and bring it with them. And if anyone asks, they should say, "The Lord needs it." And if further explanation is needed, they could reassure the villagers that it would be brought back.
Did Jesus make all of these arrangements ahead of time? Was He going off of his intuition? Was there a vision from God? Whatever the case, we can say this for sure, that is a lot of logistics to keep track of. And part of Jesus was probably overwhelmed. Maybe that's why He focused on the logistics. Jerusalem was full of Jewish pilgrims along with Roman soldiers and the residents of Jerusalem and the religious leaders from the temple and the market sellers. All of them have gathered for the Passover celebration. Historians believe that at that time the festival could draw crowds of up to a couple 100,000 people. Pilgrims came from near and far. For many visiting the Temple Mount was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. A sacred rite that they had prepared for, saved for, planned for, for many years. Pilgrims made long arduous journeys to come.
So the streets of Jerusalem hummed with this celebration in anticipation as pilgrims prepared to visit the holiest site in the holiest city. And the authors of Mark described just a portion of that crowd that day. The ones who came to meet Jesus, who spread palms and cloaks before Him, shouting, "Hosanna, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord." Elation and hopefulness and lament all fill the air. And Jesus was in this swirl of heightened emotions, projected expectations about what His arrival meant. Part of Jesus was probably terrified. Rome increased the number of imperial troops in Jerusalem for the occasion. The streets were policed by soldiers on edge. The atmosphere was pregnant with potential for a political uprising. Passover was and still is a celebration of Festival of Remembrance. Passover tells the story of exile and return of freedom, of liberation from pharaoh's oppression and captivity. And there's nothing like a festival commemorating the deliverance of people from their oppressors to frighten modern day oppressors.
And part of Jesus probably felt utterly and completely alone. Only He knows what is to come. Only He knows that His betrayal and death are imminent. And there is something about feeling alone in a crowd that makes the experience of loneliness all that more palpable and all that more overwhelming. This is something that I have heard from folks upon my return to campus this term. We are no longer living in quarantine or seclusion as we were during the pandemic. We are gathering in places and spaces as we once did. However, folks attest that they feel more divided, more isolated, more misunderstood than ever before. Isolation feels that much more acute in a sea of people. You assume you should feel connected, you should feel anchored, yet it can feel as if no one around you can save you from being taken out by the undertow.
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So who was Jesus tethered to as He climbed those steps to the Temple Mount? Unfortunately, the text provides us with little information about what Jesus saw and experienced. The authors of Mark summarized Jesus' arrival to Jerusalem and the trip to the temple with just one sentence. Then He entered Jerusalem and went into the temple. And when He looked around at everything, it was already late. And He went out to Bethany with the 12. And the story ends rather abruptly, even anti climatically. In Matthew, Jesus throws the city into turmoil. In Luke, He makes lamentation over it. In John, the Pharisees lament that the world is going after Him. So many ways to experience and respond to all that is going on around Him. And in Mark, Jesus does make return visits to the temple.
But what does Jesus see? And perhaps more important, how does He feel that first time when He in Mark's words, looked around at everything. In her recent book, The Amen Effect, Rabbi Sharon Brous shares a Mishnah from 2,000 years ago that instructed pilgrims on their visit to the temple in Jerusalem. So the Mishnah was recorded just around the time of Jesus's life. After climbing the steps to the Temple Mount and taking a sacred bath, thousands of pilgrims would arrive at an arched entryway. And they would pass through it into a courtyard. And pilgrims then could either turn right or left to circle the courtyard. The usual pattern was to turn right, move around the perimeter of the courtyard, and then exit the same way they entered. However, there were different instructions for the pilgrims who arrived broken-hearted, anguished, sick or grieving, to whom something awful had happened.
These pilgrims ascended the same stairs, passed through the same arch, and yet they turned left to begin their walk around the perimeter of the courtyard. And when the pilgrims traveling in opposite directions would meet, the pilgrims from the right would ask the shattered souls, "What happened to you? What is your story? What does your heart break for?" And the pilgrim in pain would share their sorrow. "My child just died. My spouse left me. I found a lump. My house was destroyed. I will be crucified." After listening, the pilgrim from the right would offer a blessing to the brokenhearted one. "May God comfort you. May you be embraced in this community." And then each pilgrim would then continue on their way.
Brous observes that the ancient rabbis bore this religious ritual from a profound psychological insight. The need to be seen when we want to slip away. The need for community and compassion when we feel abandoned. The only antidote for despair is love. And it is not just the brokenhearted who are blessed by the experience. Priest and poet, John O'Donohue puts it this way. "May we all receive blessing upon blessing. And may we realize our power to bless, heal and renew one another. And because each of us is human, each of us will have that experience of turning right and turning left at different crossroads in our lives." As Brous writes, "Today you walk from left to right, tomorrow it'll be me. I hold you now knowing that eventually you will hold me."
We don't know nor can we know all that Jesus was thinking and feeling that day when He entered the temple and looked around at everything that first time. However, it is not hard to imagine Jesus stopping for this act of holy lament and holy listening. And because Jesus was human, I believe He could have either been the brokenhearted or the one listening to the brokenhearted. So as we set out on our own pilgrimage of sorts this week, and the chaos of the world swirls around us and in us, may we pause and ask one another, "What happened to you?" And may God give us the courage to bear witness to one another's traumas. Listen to problems where there are no clear answers. And to share what is too unbearable to carry by ourselves any longer. May we as pilgrims through this journey of life come to know the way, by the light of Christ, and the love we share with one another. Thanks be to God.