In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
John 12.1-18
Six days before Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. There they made him a supper; Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at table with him. Mary took a pound of costly ointment of pure nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the ointment. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was to betray him), said “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” This he said, not that he cared for the poor but because he was a thief, and as he had the money box he used to take what was put into it. Jesus said, “Let her alone, let her keep it for the day of my burial. The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.” When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came, not only on account of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus also to death, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus. The next day a great crowd who had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” And Jesus found a young donkey and sat upon it; as it is written, “Fear not, daughter of Zion; behold, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!” His disciples did not understand this at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that this had been written of him and had been done to him. The crowd that had been with him when he called Lazarus out of the tomb and raised him from the dead bore witness. The reason why the crowd went to meet him was that they heard he had done this sign.
Our Gospel reading today gives us Saint John’s account of Palm Sunday. And on this Sunday doubtless many churches will hand out palm crosses or small branches from palm trees. And perhaps the children will have a little reenactment, cutely waving their palm leaves and crying out ‘Hosana’. This is all very commendable. But personally, I always looking upon the occasion with a tinge of sadness, the sweetness of the pageantry soured by the foreknowledge of what is to come. For the crowd that Sunday which cried out ‘Hosana’ will by Friday be calling out again and again ‘Crucify Him.’
Why this dramatic and savage change of heart? Well, as the Fathers point out, the crowd that day were cheering who they thought Jesus was rather than who He actually was. They thought He was the Messiah, which of course He was; but their understanding of what it meant to be the Messiah was completely wrong. They thought the Messiah would be some form of earthly king who would displace the oppressors of their nation and install the Jewish people into some form of position of worldly power. Alas, that is often the way when people fall prey to false expectations. The fault lies within themselves; but instead of being humble and reflecting on how their own failings led them to be so greatly mistaken, they are angry, not with themselves, but with the person who was the object of their error.
We may consider here that they had every reason to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. We need look no further than today’s Gospel reading for evidence of that. Lazarus is mentioned by name no less than five times in this passage, reminding us not only that Jesus had raised him from the dead, but that the fact that He had done so was week known. So well known that a great crowd had gathered to see Lazarus, to see for themselves the one who been dead and had been brought forth from his tomb was now again among them alive, living, breathing, eating. And the next day, when the crowd in Jerusalem heard that He was coming there, doubtless many of whom had been in Bethany the previous day hoping to see Lazarus, they gathered to celebrate the coming of the miracle worker, the one they were sure was the Messiah. But a few days later, when He was arrested by the religious authorities, and handed over the Romans who tortured Him, they lost faith in Him. The bloody and beaten man displayed before them did not meet their idea of a Messiah. And instead of changing their expectations of Messiahship, they turned on the man who had failed to live up to their expectations.
We may learn from their great error the importance of having a right understanding of things, particularly when it comes to matters relating to the Faith. The word ‘orthodox’ is generally understood to mean ‘right worship’, but more literally it means ‘right opinion’ or ‘right understanding’. However, we who are part of Holy Orthodoxy should not feel invulnerable, protected from falling into error ourselves because we call ourselves Orthodox. The Church, of course, offers us the fullness of the Holy Orthodox Faith, but as sinful men it is all too easy for us to be led into temptation and go astray. How many times a day do each of us sin? Worse, how often do we sin and refuse to regard what we have done as sin, excusing ourselves by saying to ourselves ‘the Church is wrong about that’ or ‘that’s such an old-fashioned idea – we know better now’ or ‘that’s such a small sin, it doesn’t really matter’?
With regard to the latter, there is a dire warning concerning that contained in today’s Gospel. Judas, as Saint John tells us, was a thief who embezzled from the money box he was entrusted with. Concerning this, the Fathers tell us that he started small, taking only a little to begin with; and then, as time went by, getting bolder and bolder. And we all know where his lust for money led to – the greatest betrayal in all history, so great that his name has become synonymous with treachery. But he didn’t begin with his great crime. He began with a single coin.
So too must we be careful with small errors in relation to the Faith. A little change here to suit ourselves leads to another change there for the same reason; and before you realise it, while you may still call yourself Orthodox, you are instead an adherent of a faith you have created for yourself. You are outside the Church, crying ‘crucify Him’ instead of ‘Hosana’. A place I pray that you will never find yourself. Amen.
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