A Little Hope Is a Dangerous Thing, TLC, NL, Mark 11 1-11, Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024

Grace to you and peace from our gracious God, and from Jesus, who risked everything for love.

“A little hope is a dangerous thing.”

It’s one of my favorite movie lines ever. Morgan Freeman, playing “Red” says it to “Andy” in The Shawshank Redemption, a movie that takes place inside a maximum-security prison. A little hope is a dangerous thing. A little hope, he explains, can drive a man insane.

Palm Sunday, at its core, is all about hope. Somewhere that day, the Roman governor Pilate made an entrance into Jerusalem for the Passover celebration. In a show of military might, Pilate likely rode a warhorse, maybe flanked by subordinates or centurions. The people shouted, but it was all about the pomp and pageantry of Roman occupation. Here’s your leader, Israel. Cheer!

Coming from Bethany, Jesus also makes an entrance into Jerusalem at the beginning of that Passover week. Many people had heard about those whom Jesus had healed. Others learned that he has stood up to the Pharisees and Scribes on several occasions. Some have even dared to think he could be the long-waited Messiah. An impromptu parade ensues, as Jesus rides a young donkey, and people wave branches they cut from trees. “Hosannah,” they cry. Save us now! Save us from the lives we have! Do something!

The hopeful adorers cheer along the way and begin to follow Jesus. “Hosanna to the coming king! Hosanna to Jesus, of the line of King David. Hosanna!!” All the way to the temple.

And Jesus quietly enters the temple. Doesn’t make a speech or tell them what he will do next. There’s no rally. He looks around, does nothing, and returns to Bethany with his disciples.

A little hope is a dangerous thing.

*****

Have you ever had one of those backstage passes to a speaker or concert? You are herded into a side room and you wait. Perhaps the celebrities are gracious, but they have one after every event. They’re tired. They shake a few hands, pose for a picture and leave. Perhaps your experiences are different than mine and people I’ve talked to, but all in all, they’re kinda disappointing. That was a bummer.

I imagine the crowd in Jerusalem having the same let-down. We expected Jesus to DO something. More miracles. A speech. A plan of action. But after we followed him into Jerusalem, he went into the temple, looked around and left. That’s the One that everyone is talking about? What a poser.

You see, the crowd had a different vision of Jesus as Messiah. Someone who would come in, like King David, rally 30,000 men to take on the Romans. Deal with these Roman oppressors in the only language they knew. Power. Oppress THEM for a change. Re-unite God’s people. Take what was taken from us.

But that was never Jesus’ vision. He said it early on – “Blessed are the peacemakers.” He kept saying it: “Those who want to save their life will lose it, but those who give up their life for my sake will find it.” “If they don’t welcome you and refuse to hear you, shake off the dust from that place.” “Turn the other cheek.”

So, if people thought the Way of Jesus was to start an uprising, they had totally missed the point. But lots of people did – they wanted what they wanted from this Jesus.

A little hope is a dangerous thing. You know what else is a dangerous thing? Love. Love is a dangerous thing. Love makes you vulnerable. Loving others, actually putting yourself out there and loving people, loving people who may not know you, may not understand you, loving people who cannot or will not love you back, loving people who have no power – that love makes you vulnerable. Because people don’t get it. Because people don’t expect it.

And that’s what Jesus was all about. Love.

And someone like this who loved everyone, even those who were cast aside by the religious and political leaders. Someone like this who provided hope when the government existed to keep people down – that person was a danger to the Roman Empire and the Temple authorities. This Jesus who refused to join with the existing powers, who refused to stir up hate and fear, that person was a threat. Because hate is easier to manipulate, and fear is easier to control. Love and hope are unpredictable.

*****

Honestly, the world hasn’t changed much in 2,000 years.

Most of what passes for news in 2024 plays on our fears. Violence. Injustice. Wars. Illness. Partisan politics.

When the powers that be can get us to stop loving, hate wins. When some pundit can get you to create “us” and “them,” fear wins. When we stop seeing every person God created as beloved, we’ve been played. When we stop seeing our faith as something to share, and instead see it as personal and private, we’ve lost our superpower – LOVE.

Jesus never stopped loving.

When his hometown turned on him, Jesus didn’t hate them.

When his disciples didn’t get it, Jesus didn’t reject them.

When the Jewish leaders tried to trap him, Jesus told them what was most important.

Love. Love God and love your neighbors.

So when those gathered for the Passover in Jerusalem didn’t see a powerful leader who could change everything that week, their adoring shouts of Hosannah faded. Like some flash-in-the-pan celebrity, they turned on Jesus. When the leaders stirred up the mob mentality that began crying “Crucify him,” they didn’t remember him healing their neighbors or calling out the temple leaders who preyed on the less fortunate. He brought them hope for a moment, and, well,

A little hope is a dangerous thing.

Loving everyone and being vulnerable is a dangerous thing.

Going to Jerusalem to be in the presence of those who want you dead is a dangerous thing.

Yet, here is Jesus, not taking the safe route, walking straight into Jerusalem at the time of Passover. Loving God’s people beyond what was safe. Beyond what was wise. Beyond anything we can imagine. Then and now. That’s how much you are loved. Beyond measure.

I sometimes wonder if I’m following the Way of Jesus with enough passion. Sometimes leading worship, preaching, attending meetings, going to visit people, serving a meal – none of it feels very dangerous. It’s a pretty low-risk endeavor. Even following this call – to seminary, to Chicago, to Trinity – it’s been an adventure, certainly, but risky? Not really.

I haven’t done mission work overseas. Friends of mine did for years, and then had their lives turned upside down. A gut punch. Talk about risk.

Friends of mine were in the Middle East when Covid arrived. Getting out and getting home before everything was shut down – that was risky.

Seminary colleagues live in places where practicing their Christian faith is unsafe. And they plan to return there. Embracing the risk.

As I think this week about the love of Jesus, the way of the Cross, and the hope he brought, I wonder where the Spirit is calling me, and calling you, to embrace some risk for the sake of the gospel. We have been so loved by Jesus that we have been freed to bring love to people who feel alone, to bring hope to those who have lost their hope. We know the cross is ahead, but so is the empty tomb. So we are a people of hope, freed to give hope.

And that reminds me of the other line from the movie, the Shawshank Redemption. When Andy is writing Red from the outside:

“Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

Amen