It’s Gonna Get Loud

A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, April 13, 2025, Palm Sunday. “Grounded in Grace” series.

Texts: Psalm 118:1-2, Luke 19:28-40

“Do we preach Christ crucified?” (that is) “Do you believe in a Jesus who is dangerous enough to be arrested and killed by the state?”  It was years ago that I heard South African Methodist pastor Alan Storey raise these questions, but they come back to the forefront of my mind every Holy Week. 

In how many places on Palm Sunday do people walk into churches and find a Jesus who is presented—probably unintentionally—as the Grand Marshall of the Big Parade, making his “triumphal entry” in line with the marching band and the corporate-sponsored floats and the children on daddy’s shoulders waving those tiny American flags? In how many places on Palm Sunday do people find Jesus doing nothing more than offering an opportunity to have a party and a cute procession with children whacking each other with palms? In how many places on Palm Sunday will people find a celebration of Jesus as the one who is so familiar, so accessible, that he almost blends into the crowd, tacitly blessing the status quo?  Lord knows I have been part of such celebrations in my life. But Jesus the Grand Marshall, the party guy, the bland Everyman, is not dangerous enough to be arrested and killed by the state. 

The procession into Jerusalem is no accident or whim or flash mob for the sake of fun. It is a carefully planned demonstration, orchestrated by Jesus for maximum effect (Lk. 19:29-35) By its method, the make-up of participants, and its content, this march puts those in power on notice that business as usual is unacceptable. The procession calls upon what would have been well-known symbolism from the prophet Zechariah who speaks of a king who will come into Jerusalem “humble and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”  The prophecy goes on to say that the king “will cut off…the war horse,” “shall command peace to the nations,” and prisoners will be set free. (Zechariah 9:9-11)  Jesus organizes and leads a non-violent march in solidarity with the poor and oppressed… Can you imagine any scenario in which that has ever lead to conflict, violent retaliation, and death threats?  

The people’s chant as they march isn’t Hosanna in Luke’s version of the story, but rather, everyone is going on and on about the acts of power they witnessed, and they praise God joyfully with a loud voice: ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!’” The chant of peace reflects an emphasis throughout the Gospel of Luke. The word peace, eiréné (ay-RAY-nay) in the Greek, appears in Luke more than all the other gospels combined. This word is derived from the primary verb εἴρω (eirō), meaning “to join” or “to tie together into a whole.” In Luke, salvation is understood, in part, as bringing what is divided together, to bring completeness, wholeness; it’s a vision of justice and of people living in peace with God and with others across every boundary. From Zechariah singing at the birth of his son John the Baptist, to the heavenly hosts announcing Christ’s birth, to Simeon at Jesus’s blessing in the temple, song after song speak of guiding our feet into the way of peace, of peace on earth, of going forth in peace. And today, the people honor Jesus, the King who comes to show them the way of peace as it is in heaven, the one who challenges all that divides, the one who reveals there is hope for peace in their hearts and even in their community. //

Jerusalem at the time of Jesus had already served as the “center of the sacred geography of the Jewish people for a millennium.”i It was a city associated with all their best hopes and aspirations for justice and peace. But it was also a city that had been captured and ruled by one foreign power after another for centuries. Under Roman rule beginning in 63 BCE, the religious Temple became used as the center of economic and political activity and control by the Roman Empire. Temple leaders were likely hand-picked by Roman rulers and came from high-ranking priestly families and from wealthy lay families. The system—what Walter Brueggemann calls the “imperial reality” and Marcus Borg refers to as a “domination system”—was marked by oppressive “rule by a few, economic exploitation, and religious legitimation.”ii In other words, there was a small percent of the population whose power was fueled by a large percent of the wealth and the God they worshiped was interested in maintaining this system and ensuring the deity’s own place with the “in” crowd in the palace. One might think that such a state of affairs would make the masses rise up in protest. But the reality is that this kind of system—a very common system, by the way, the system we are currently living in—often has just the opposite effect. In the face of such overwhelming power differentials, a “numbed consciousness of denial”iii sets in. 

In this “domination system” everyone is caught in the web of injustice. The poor and marginalized are caught in dehumanizing systems and become exhausted by the obstacles they face… The oppressed and their allies who try to speak up are silenced and treated as selfish or crazy or traitors… Those in “middle management” often live with a complex mixture of guilt and envy… The powerful and uber rich are bound and blinded by their own privilege… Daily work and entertainments and media and the latest exercise craze or sports tournament or whatever is the new shiny thing keep most people distracted… and everyone becomes lulled into believing the fiction that this is simply the way things are, that there are no real alternatives, and therefore life becomes a matter of just hunkering down and caring about yourself and your family alone and finding little joys where you can get them.  

Today, Jesus rides into that thinking and challenges it. Jesus rides into town as an embodiment of a true alternative and as the One who can restore the broken present and usher in God’s future wholeness. Jesus comes without weapons or any of the trappings expected of a king, but rather with humility and peace. He comes to challenge power players and the Roman military industrial complex. He comes not to advocate for himself or only his family, but to be in solidarity with the poor, to speak out for the marginalized and oppressed, to call people back to the connection between prayer and justice, to reveal a bigger picture, a more just and loving way to be in relationship with and for others. Jesus comes—then and now—to shake people awake from our numbness, shift us toward justice or generosity, move us to greater love and compassion. Jesus rides into Jerusalem embodying God’s freedom in the face of those who thought God could be tamed, co-opted, and manipulated to serve the war machine, Wall Street, white supremacy, homophobia, transphobia, and the status quo.  

As Jesus comes to us today, humble and riding on a donkey, our city, nation, and world are so broken… People are still trying to tame God, to co-opt God, to manipulate God to serve greed and division rather than grace and peace. But now as then, God will not be tamed or manipulated. People are still trying to make Jesus a warrior king, a punishing, might-makes-right kind of savior. But now as then, Jesus will not bow to the idol of violence. Jesus chooses to be dangerous in a different way.

And if we allow Jesus the freedom to be dangerous—dangerous enough that our own small perceptions and projections get stretched and shifted, dangerous enough that our own government officials and religious leaders might be so threatened that they would conspire to kill him—and US for following him—then there is hope for us yet. The danger Jesus brings comes in an unlikely form—a laughable form for those committed to the dominant culture. Jesus is dangerous precisely through his love and compassion and his absolute refusal to abandon us even when it costs him everything. Brueggemann writes, “Quite clearly, the one thing the dominant culture cannot tolerate or co-opt is compassion, the ability to stand in solidarity with the victims of the present order. It can manage charity and good intentions, but it has no way to resist solidarity with pain or grief… Newness comes precisely from expressed pain. Suffering made audible and visible produces hope, articulated grief is the gate of newness, and the history of Jesus is the history of entering into the pain and giving it voice.”iv  

And that’s what draws so many to his side—all those years ago and right up until today. Jesus not only hears the cries of the people, he enters into our pain and gives it a voice, brings healing, and offers a new vision for life—all out of love and in solidarity.

It’s why people seek him out wherever he is, why they follow him around, why they leave everything to learn and grow with him, why they can’t stop talking about all the powerful things Jesus does, why they throw their clothes on the ground to make his path soft and special, and cry out with one voice, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

And their joy and hope and love and empathy create division in the crowd. Some Pharisees pipe up saying Jesus’s people should pipe down. Maybe they thought they were being helpful—“You know, Jesus, this kind of talk is dangerous, it’s going to get you into trouble. You really shouldn’t be so political. Your teaching and your people shouldn’t be so divisive.” Jesus wasn’t about to quiet the crowds.

Because God and neighbor. In fact, the Lenten season beckons followers to a new and resurrected life made possible by a victory of love and justice. It is an invitation to let go of fear, to all that separates us from God and from each other that we might truly be free--free to be, free to love, and free to work for the well-being of the whole human family. Anything less is captivity, not freedom. God and neighbor. In fact, the Lenten season beckons followers to a new and resurrected life made possible by a victory of love and justice. It is an invitation to let go of fear, to all that separates us from God and from each other that we might truly be free--free to be, free to love, and free to work for the well-being of the whole human family. Anything less is captivity, not freedom.Moreover, Christian freedom has always been defined by an enlargement of the heart, an increase of compassion, and a commitment to loving God and neighbor. In fact, the Lenten season beckons followers to a new and resurrected life made possible by a victory of love and justice. It is an invitation to let go of fear, to all that separates us from God and from each other that we might truly be free--free to be, free to love, and free to work for the well-being of the whole human family. Anything less is captivity, not freedom.Moreover, Christian freedom has always been defined by an enlargement of the heart, an increase of compassion, and a commitment to loving God and neighbor. In fact, the Lenten season beckons followers to a new and resurrected life made possible by a victory of love and justice. It is an invitation to let go of fear, to all that separates us from God and from each other that we might truly be free--free to be, free to love, and free to work for the well-being of the whole human family. Anything less is captivity, not freedom.Moreover, Christian freedom has always been defined by an enlargement of the heart, an increase of compassion, and a commitment to loving God and neighbor. In fact, the Lenten season beckons followers to a new and resurrected life made possible by a victory of love and justice. It is an invitation to let go of fear, to all that separates us from God and from each other that we might truly be free--free to be, free to love, and free to work for the well-being of the whole human family. Anything less is captivity, not freedom.when people have been shaken out of their dulled senses by the love and grace of God, why should they be quiet? When people experience new life that brings peace, that mends division, that recognizes the dignity and worth of their own life and every person’s life…they’re not going to be quiet, right? When folks’ hearts have been warmed and their hopes revived by the tender compassion of Jesus, they’re not going to be quiet. When they’ve seen their children run into Jesus’s arms instead of refusing to go to church, they’re going to shout “praise be!” When we have our stories and lives seen and celebrated by the one who comes in the name of the Lord, we’re not going pipe down, right? When we’ve been forgiven, liberated from our crushing guilt, and set on a path of freedom we’re not going to pipe down. When people finally wake up to the gospel truth that we all belong to one another, that we are interconnected, are all siblings in the Beloved clan of God, even across every boundary and division, then voices join in solidarity with one another and get loud. When people realize that agents of the domination system seek to erase the stories and threaten the lives of their families or others’ families, it’s gonna get loud. When the agents of empire steal from the vulnerable the gifts and the justice that God intends for all people and trample the earth for profit and barter with fellow citizens’ health and welfare and treat the immigrant and refugee in our land not as “the native-born among you,” (Lev. 19:34) worthy of love as it commands in God’s law but as less than human characters in perverse political theater, then the people of God are gonna get loud. When God’s truth is marching on, the people will sing and shout glory, glory, hallelujah (glory, glory hallelujah, glory, glory hallelujah, God’s truth is marching on)! Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! //

And if the people ever grow so fearful or weary that they can no longer raise their voices, then the stones and trees and waters and creatures of the earth will rise up, continuing the chorus, in protest and in praise. 

Because in Jesus, we have a king like no other, a king who is worthy of our bent knee, a king whose strength is mercy and kindness and love, a king who longs for kinship with and among us all, who is the source of hope and of peace, who is able to restore wholeness in the broken places in us and in the world through his own crucified, broken body. And “not even death can prevail against this King and not even the end of the world, when end it does, will be the end of him and of the mystery and majesty of his love.”v

Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven. Thanks be.