I greet you with the joy of this wonderful holiday.
Lent is over. The fast is over. Put behind you
now any of those things which were ugly, whatever
failures you had, anger, resentment, whatever
it might be. That you've gripped your heart and
your feelings. Be at peace. For now, we have
to turn our attention to Christ and his steps.
Six days before the Passover. That's where we
are. That's what it said in the gospel today.
And six days before the Passover, what happens?
Well, this incredible event. You have the fresco
up there and the icon in the middle of the church.
You see Christ on the donkey. Actually, the foal
of an ass. There's so much that we could say
just about that donkey that the fathers and the
hymns speak about, but I'm going to leave that
for another time. Sacred history records in the
scriptures that the last time anyone of significance,
a king, rode a donkey into Jerusalem, it was
the coronation day for King Solomon, the son
of the righteous King David. On that day that
we commemorate this day, six days before the
Passover, when Jesus rode on a donkey, the foal
of an ass, into Jerusalem, the people, hearing
about the raising of a dead man, Lazarus, knew
this fact of history about Solomon. They were
eager to praise Jesus and to see in him the king,
the conquering hero. I can't even imagine. The
sense of wonder and jubilation and pride of those
who welcome Jesus to the holy city, the city
of peace. Shouting, exclaiming, and proclaiming,
Hosanna, blessed is he that comes in the name
of the Lord, the King of Israel. And those up
there on the Temple Mount, the leaders, plotting
to kill him. The people below welcoming, a king.
Who can raise the dead? What enemy could stand
against such a king? You have to think this is
what's going on. What enemy? And indeed that
is true. Wrong enemy. The leaders of the people
wanting to put Lazarus to death also, says St.
John, want to hide the evidence of what this
king can do. They did not welcome the hero, the
king, because of their envy, their pride, their
greed, their lust for power. Jesus was not anointed
by a prophet, seated on a throne in Jerusalem,
as other kings were anointed and seated. But
he was anointed by she who would be a prophetess,
Mary, the sister of Martha. who anointed Jesus
for his burial. Because in his burial, his death,
his rising, that's where he is truly the king.
Look at that cross. What does it say at the top?
The king of glory. Because his glory is his love
for us. He was not invited to an enthronement
by the powers that be. but willingly chose that
throne, the throne on Golgotha, where we see
that inscription, the king of glory. Jesus, of
course, knew that all this would transpire after
his entry in Jerusalem, and so St. Luke, in his
account of this event, he's writing, when Jesus
drew near and saw the city, he wept over it,
saying, would that you... Even you had known
on this day the things that make for peace. Two
days in a row, yesterday and today, we see Jesus
weeping. And it is no wonder. We have a lot we
could weep about as well. We know the story.
Step by step. The betrayal, the duplicity, the
fake trial, the terrible mocking. Horrible mocking.
The violence against Jesus. And because we know
the story, we can and we must actually today
rejoice, not weep. We can raise our branches
of palms. What a privilege to identify ourselves
as servants of the Lord Jesus Christ, the King,
the one who saves. The one who desires to save.
We should not be ashamed to say to other people,
I believe in God. I believe in Jesus. I believe
in the Holy Spirit. I believe in the church.
I'm an Orthodox Christian. We should not shrink
away from that. Of course, we don't have to be
obnoxious, waving our palms in front of somebody
else's face. We wear a cross. That's our identification.
We respect other people for their belief, but
we don't shrink back from ours. And the epistle
that you heard today, it seems to me, is a kind
of statement to us, believers in Christ, what
our life ought to look like if we truly consider
Jesus as our king. Enthroned where? In our heart?
In our mind? In our house? Not just an icon corner,
not just a Bible on a shelf getting kind of dusty,
but really truly in our actions. The epistle
tells us what our life ought to look like as
we sing, Hosanna, blessed is he who comes, the
son of David. St. Paul says rejoice. Rejoice
always, and he's writing from prison. There's
no bathroom breaks, mind you. He's chained to
a wall, probably. I imagine. I could be wrong.
Father Daniel could correct me as the biblical
scholar. But a Roman prison cannot be a healthy
and pleasant place. Rejoice in the Lord. Again,
I say rejoice. That's what St. Paul tells us
today. Because if Christ is our king, we rejoice.
And I alluded to this yesterday. Let all people,
he says, know your moderation, your forbearance.
Your patient endurance. Your suffering. Your
long suffering. Because the Lord, he says, is
at hand. And he is at hand. Always present for
each one of us. That dares to make the effort
to pray to him. To enter into that space. The
time to pray. Then it says this. Have no anxiety
about anything. It doesn't say don't plan. Don't
be good stewards of your life. Don't set aside
something. Deal with your responsibilities. Anxiety
is the thing that grips the heart and fragments
the noose so that our soul doesn't know what
goal we're going for. Have no anxiety about anything
but in everything by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving. Let your petitions, your requests
be known to God and the peace of God. will dwell
with you. Christians here, according to St. Paul,
are characterized as people devoid of anxiety.
No anxiety about anything because we trust that
he has, that he is, and that he will save us.
Save us from what? Save us from the terrible
ignorance of not knowing why we even exist, from
the ignorance of not knowing what our destiny
is, to be as he is. Save us from the ignorance
that we are enslaved to sin, the poison of sin,
which leads us to be enslaved to the devil, whom
Christ came to destroy. St. Paul says, He came
to destroy him who held the might of death, that
is the devil. He came to save us from annihilation,
extinction, and non -existence. He came to save
us from fear. He didn't come. Well, imagine a
man in a burning house shouting, save me, with
no way out. He's not looking. for his life to
be improved. He's not looking for monetary, economic
comfort. That's our job for others, by the way.
Christ didn't come to make our life easier. He
gives us the ministry and the task to minister
to others, to help them, to make their life easier.
Because he has saved us. He has saved us from
that inferno, from that fire. He has saved us
from nonexistence. He has saved us from certain
and complete and utter death. And so we rejoice
today. St. Photius, the great, the 9th century
saint, one of the most brilliant people who ever
lived, he gave this sermon on the feast day.
He said this, Blessed is he, Hosanna. that comes
to reach out his arms on the cross to gather
all peoples to himself. Blessed is he, Hosanna,
that comes to make Hades a prisoner, to release
Adam from his bond, to raise him from his fall.
Blessed is he, Hosanna, that comes to destroy
the power of the tyranny and to bestow liberty
on them that are sore distressed. Blessed is
he that comes to empty out the storehouses of
Hades, and to fill the heavenly mansions with
the throng of the saved. Blessed is he that comes
to offer himself as a sacrifice for our sake.
Blessed is he to expiate all our sin to reconcile
us with the Father. Blessed is he that comes
to kill death. to inaugurate our resurrection,
to free us from servitude, to bestow on us adoption
as his blessed children, so we cry, Hosea.