When Gods Arrive

Text: Matthew 21:1-11

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

            It’s never good news when the gods and goddesses of the pagans show up. Whether you’re reading ancient Greek or Roman mythology or the tales of the ancient Babylonians or Egyptians, whenever their gods show up in human realms, it only causes chaos. Jealousy, favoritism, and judgment are always the order of the day. Cities burn and death is almost always present. But that’s just the gods who show up. The other idols that they worship are gods who demand that mortals ascend to them, like the Buddha or Allah.

            But it’s no wonder that the idols made by humans behave in this way. For in our addiction to our own works and so-called progress, we are constantly attempting to climb into heaven, to ascend to the level of God. This is seen in our non-stop quest for elevation through our own works, thinking we’re rising to ever higher planes of holiness and goodness. Or rising above the valleys of this world through finding the right emotional connection to the divine. Or believing that by chasing down more answers, more data, more power, more whatever, we can finally stop being bound by mortality and become gods, or at the very least godlike.

            Nor is it any surprise that in those invented myths where the gods and goddesses do come down that it means trouble. For when the idols we worship are simply bigger and stronger and longer living versions of humans, like the many deities of the nations, it is on some level a recognition of our own failures. For all the false gods—from Baal to Zeus—have all the failings that we mortals do, just written in bigger letters with bolder ink. And at some level, when they bring destruction and chaos, it’s a reflection of our fear of judgment, for we know that we have behaved just as poorly as they have—bringing destruction, harm, and jealousy; arrogance and covetousness, even if it’s in more feeble and petty ways than their epic tales depict.

            So if we believed in a God who is like the gods of the nations, we would also live in fear of His arrival. Or, if we didn’t think that He was actually coming, that He was staying fixed in the heavens far away from our mortal sphere, we would think that we need to climb up to Him through our thoughts, words, deeds, or emotions. But our God is different. He does not demand that we ascend to Him through those various means (which, by the way are never as grand as we presume to think). Nor does He come to us in overwhelming glory and awe and might to put us in our place, or play favorites, or sow chaos. Rather, listen to how our God chooses to show up: “‘Say to the daughter of Zion, Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.’ The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and He sat on them. Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. And the crowds that went before Him and that followed Him were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!’” Jesus comes to His people in Jerusalem, not riding a thoroughbred champion horse or in a chariot of war. He comes riding a rather ridiculous looking animal, a donkey. He doesn’t come with troops, or gruesome weapons drawn, or thunder and lightning. He’s surrounded by crowds of people who have been on the fringes, those healed of diseases and shame and evil, by fishermen and tax collectors, all shouting “Hosanna!” which simply means “Save us!” He does not come to conquer or overthrow, not to harm or destroy. He comes to save them. He comes to be lowered so that they can be raised. He comes to forgive them, die for them, and rise to give them eternal life.

            This is entirely keeping with all that our Lord does. For this arrival in Jerusalem was not the first time He shows up in humility. He came into this world through a lowly birth, in Bethlehem, in a stable. He is surrounded not by royal attendants there, but by a carpenter, his virgin bride-to-be, and shepherds just in from the fields. He would go on not to live among the rich and powerful, but to wander from place to place in Galilee, a backwater province, without a home to call His own, living off the generosity of others.

            Nor is His arrival in Jerusalem the last time that He will arrive humble and carried to us in lowly ways. For this same Jesus who chose to come to Bethlehem in a manger and to Jerusalem on a donkey still comes to His people in something as simple as water, poured out with His promise in the baptismal font. He comes through the Word spoken, preached, Absolution proclaimed by frail human voices of those He calls and ordains. He comes through the unpresuming and even lowly means of a bit of bread and wine, hiding His body and blood, His very real presence, just as real as His presence was in Bethlehem, in Jerusalem. And in all of this He’s still coming to answer His people’s prayer of “Hosanna! Save us!” And so we will pray in a few minutes, and so He will answer us again, coming to us as surely as He came to His people then, all to forgive and save us, to give us eternal life, just as surely as He has all the other times He has shown up. We have the God who comes to us and who makes it good news—Gospel—when He arrives.

            We have begun a new Church year. It’s fitting that we start it by recognizing what’s different about our God, what makes Him different than every other god or idol: He shows up. Not only that, but He shows up in veiled, humble ways so that He would save us. So we pray to Him to stir up His power and come—without fear that it will mean bad things for us when He does. We sing hosanna in the highest, hosanna to the Lord. We receive Him anew, for He comes to answer us. This is the season of Advent, which simply means “Arrival.” Your God has shown up, here, in your life, in this place. And He’s come to save you and be with you, for your good, for eternity. In the name of Jesus, who has come and is coming again. Amen.