Perhaps one might continue—in shock and almost stuttering—what an extravagance of human beings, of whole peoples, until at last God found the one people to whom he could attach the abundance of his grace in the world. In the book of Isaiah God forthrightly speaks of this squandering of nations for the sake of his own people: “I give Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Saba in exchange for you. Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life” (Isa 43:3-4). But it also belongs to this side of divine extravagance that God—in the language of the New Testament—has given the one, the best and most precious of all human beings, has squandered him for the sake of the world. In light of the death of Jesus it is thus also clear that the extravagant abundance of salvation cannot be understood as a Neverland or utopia for consumers.
Overflowing grace can only reach human beings if they allow themselves to be taken into the service of God’s plan. The glory that illumines Israel through Jesus is intended not to create a better life for the elect but, by way of Israel, to bring the glory of God into the world.
Finally, while the disciples were promised a hundred brothers and sisters, a hundred houses and fields, it is only “with persecutions.” And the glory of Jesus that the miracle at Cana tells about will be made more explicit in the further course of the Fourth Gospel as a glory that finds its true shape only in Jesus’ “hour,” that is, in his suffering.15 But in any case we may say that Jesus does not enter into that suffering for its own sake, which would be masochism. He enters into that suffering for the sake of the reign of God, which he must also proclaim in Jerusalem and from which he does not subtract an iota. He knows that the reign of God comes “with persecutions,” but that does not deprive it of its brilliance and its fascinating abundance.
Chapter 15
Decision in Jerusalem
Jesus’ whole existence was for the sake of the reign of God. That reign is not something vague and nebulous. Jesus was working toward the eschatological restoration of Israel, so that the reign of God might have a place. To create with and in the midst of Israel a space for the reign of God—that is what is at stake also in three sign-actions at the end of Jesus’ life. The three are related; not only that, they are internally interconnected to the utmost extent: Jesus’ entry into the capital city on a young donkey, his action in the temple, and the sign-action with bread and wine during his last meal. It is no accident that these particular three symbolic actions collide at the end of his life.
Jesus’ Entry into the Capital
The oldest1 account of Jesus’ entry into the capital city is found in Mark 11:1-11. In this narrative a good deal of space is accorded to finding the donkey on which he is to ride: it takes up no less than two-thirds of the text. Apparently for Mark (or for the tradition available to him), the animal on whose back Jesus enters into the city is of great importance. The discovery episode is meant to emphasize that it was a young donkey and that Jesus had planned this kind of entry. That entry is then described rather briefly:
Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple. (Mark 11:7-11)
Thus Jesus’ entry is accompanied by many festival pilgrims who are on the road to the capital with Jesus. What does their cry mean? In part it comes from Psalm 118:25-26. Large groups of pilgrims were greeted in Jerusalem with “blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” at the moment when they entered the space before the temple area. Here this welcoming cry has been transformed into an acclamation addressed exclusively to Jesus and expanded by praise of the now-inbreaking kingdom of David, that is, the messianic kingdom. In addition, the shout now comes from the pilgrims themselves.
But we must note primarily something that is not immediately apparent to every reader today: what Mark is describing here is nothing less than a royal entrance. This is not the usual jubilation with which just any group of pilgrims was received when they arrived at the temple for a festival. Rather, the scene describes the entry of a king into his city, the arrival of the Messiah on Zion. In a sense he is taking possession of his city.
That this is the precise intent of the narrative is shown by the presence of the donkey, which is spoken of in the Old Testament, in Zechariah 9:9 and in Genesis 49:11, as the mount destined for the Messiah. Without question, the use of the word “colt” is an allusion to Zechariah 9:9, which reads, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; [righteous] and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”2
The words “righteous,” “victorious,” and “humble” in Zechariah 9:9 require explanation. This king is “righteous” because he is, before God and through God’s grace, the ultimate ruler who does the will of God entirely. He is “victorious” because God has rescued him from danger (Hebrew nosha’). He is called “humble” because he is a lowly person, poor before God. The external sign of this is that he rides not on a parade horse but on a donkey, the beast of the poor. He is the longed-for king in whom God is well pleased.
Other signals in the text also point to a royal entry: ancient cities received a royal ruler with branches and garments spread on the road, and “hosanna,” originally a plea (“help!”), had become a cry of homage and rejoicing. Whether or not the fact that the cry “hosanna” was originally meant for God is intended to play some role, it serves at least to introduce the subsequent homage, “blessed is the one who comes.” And that is said of Jesus. So the narrative depicts a royal entrance, a “taking possession” of the city.3
If we look at the historical event itself there is no compelling reason to question an entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem during which he was celebrated as the Messiah. He was not only surrounded by excited festival pilgrims from Galilee who had seen his deeds of power or heard about them—most recently the healing of the blind beggar Bartimaeus in Jericho (Mark 10:46-52). There had apparently been earlier attempts in Galilee to appoint Jesus a (messianic) king (John 6:15).
The crucial question is about Jesus’ own attitude to the whole business. Had the “Davidic-Messianic expectations” of the people coalesced “in the atmosphere of Jerusalem”4 and been immediately poured out on him—against his will, so to speak? That is how many New Testament scholars see it today. They say either that Jesus did not want any of it or—still more radically—that the event was a simple arrival in Jerusalem with a crowd of pilgrims, and it was only Christian legend that, after Easter, elevated and stylized it as a royal entry.
I cannot share that skepticism. It has little to do with historical criticism and a good deal to do with the desire to create for ourselves a pleasant and modernized Jesus who fits our present ideas and offers as little resistance to the observer as possible. I am convinced that Jesus really did enter into the city on a donkey, the mount of the poor and simple people—and that he did so deliberately on the model of Zechariah 9:9.