Expectations

Mark 11:1-11
1 When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2 and said to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. 3 If anyone says to you, "Why are you doing this?' just say this, "The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.' "4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5 some of the bystanders said to them, "What are you doing, untying the colt?" 6 They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7 Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. 9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! 10 Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" 11 Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Expectation: for some it is the withholding of overwhelming joy in a strained attempt at patience; for others, it is the nerve-racking anxiety that gnaws at their very bones. It carries with it the potential for an all-encompassing hope, while also carrying with it the potential for an absolute disappointment.
We all have expectations of one sort or another. For some of us, we have expectations about what this week will bring: Will I still have my job? Can I afford the groceries, the electric bill, or gas to get me to Friday? I can’t wait until the weekend! I wonder if the grass can stand to grow a few more days until I get the mower fixed. Some of us have expectations that extend a bit farther into the future: How will my children turn out when they are grown? Will my parents live long enough to see them grow? How much longer will this truck hold out? I’ll be glad when this is paid for! We all have expectations about the future: its joys, hopes, promises, and yes, even its fears, difficulties, and disasters.
There is no doubt that the Jews of the first century had their own sorts of expectations. They had a history of prolonged disappointment, complete with enslavement, exile, and dispersion; yet they were still looking towards a future of hopeful anticipation. There were some who hoped for a future of restoration; a time when the Lord Himself would intercede, restoring Israel to a sovereign nation, free of Roman regulations and Gentile cooperation. There were still others who longed for a future of Jewish domination; God Himself would lead an angelic army against all the enemies of His people, conquering them in overwhelming, militaristic, fashion. There were even some who looked forward to a future of withdrawn solitude and peace, when a Teacher of Righteousness would come and reveal the deep truths of heaven and humanity. It is in this atmosphere of expectation, into which God does indeed intervene, but in such a way that almost seems to deflate any sort of expectation.
These verses of Mark’s gospel come at what should be the climax of his narrative. In the first ten chapters, Mark ramps us up for the big reveal of what scholars call “the Messianic Secret of Mark”. Jesus has cast out demons, healed many who were sick, cleansed lepers, fed multitudes from paltry provisions, spoke with captivating charisma, and in the verses prior to the present text, healed a blind beggar. This should be the point when the music crescendos and Jesus kicks down the doors of everyone’s expectations and rides in to rescue a woe-begotten people, guns-blazing, with his enemies falling at his feet. But just when Jesus seems to provoke such imagery, just when Mark leads us on with hints of messianic majesty…nothing happens!
Doesn’t that just irritate you?! I mean if this were a John Wayne movie, you’d walk out and demand your money back! No one wants to see John Wayne ride into town, jump off his horse and storm into the saloon…just to say ‘hi’! In the same way, no one wanted to see Jesus mount a donkey and ride down from the Mount of Olives to have people lay their coats out under him and praise him as the one who would bring about the kingdom of David, only to have him “go into the temple and look around and leave!” What’s the deal? Is Mark, Jesus “pulling a fast one” on us?
Mark’s story certainly seems to be leading in the direction of a triumphal entry. He starts out by telling us that Jesus and his posse were “near the Mount of Olives” in verse one. This is more than just scene-setting by Mark; it’s messianic allusion. It seems that Mark draws a great deal of imagery from the fourteenth chapter of the prophet Zechariah. In Zechariah 14, the prophet speaks of the coming of YHWH, when He will fight against the enemies of Israel, and blaze a path from the Mount of Olives to the Temple in Jerusalem to claim his victory, seated on the back of a donkey. There is no doubt that Zechariah 14 would have been on the minds of his readers; the allusions of that passage have come to reshape the very landscape of Israel, for the Mount of Olives today is a large cemetery; some believe it is still the place where YHWH will claim victory, and the dead who are buried there will be the first in the resurrection. So, Mark’s mentioning of Jesus coming into Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives is more than just a passing nod to his location—Mark intends to conjure up messianic imagery.
He builds up our expectations further with the grandeur in which Jesus comes into Jerusalem. Jesus has two of his disciples fetch a young donkey (presumably, one that has not been ridden, and therefore, available for sacred use) with instructions on what to do if they are questioned. While we could ask whether or not this is proof of Jesus’ divine foreknowledge or his power over human will in certain circumstances, it is sufficient to say that the most important point to be made involves the messianic imagery of Jesus mounted on a donkey. He rides the donkey, down the Mount of Olives, while the multitude that was with him lines the way with their clothes, shouting “Hosanna!” a term that literally means “Save us!” but had, at that time, evolved into a sort of messianic declaration. His trip takes him into Jerusalem, and presumably right up to the Temple itself. This is where Jesus is supposed to be greeted by the Temple priests, offer a sacrifice to God, and claim his place as the conqueror of the city. After all, this is the way it was done in the Greco-Roman world of militaristic conquest. When one had conquered his enemy, he rode into the city to make a sacrifice at the Temple, all the while being heralded by those whom he had conquered.
But again, Mark lets us down. Jesus simply surveys the area, and “as it was already late,” he leaves. Nothing happens: there is no showdown at the Temple, no sacrifice to declare his victory, no recognition by the people of their conqueror—Jesus simply strolls in, seemingly unnoticed, takes a look around, then leaves. Expectation gives way to disappointment. But why? Why all of this build up and no pay off? Why all of these messianic allusions, just to have Jesus brush them off in an attitude that seems to suggest indifference? Why does he not live up to our expectations? Why are we left in disappointment?
Disappointment is an all too real part of our lives. Whenever our expectations outweigh life’s realities, disappointment takes its place in our hearts. And the most difficult kind of disappointment to deal with is that disappointment that comes after we have been led to believe that our desires are within our reach, that time when we get our hopes up higher than they’ve ever been, just to have them come crashing down in disappointment. This kind of disappointment leaves us with nothing to cling to but the memory of what was once so longed for.
It seems in verse eleven that we reach another place of disappointment. Hopes are high, the messianic secret seems as if it is about to bust loose on the page…but it does not. If we stop here, our expectations are gone, and we are left in disappointment. If we read on, we find that things only seem to get worse as Jesus, not only fails to live up to our expectations, but seems to intentionally drive himself further from any sort of messianic expectations.
But maybe that’s the point. Perhaps, all along, we were never meant to have our expectations met. Perhaps this is a triumphal entry after all. The events that follow that first Palm Sunday in no way fulfill anyone’s expectations. Yet somehow, in seven days, our expectations are transformed in the cross and the empty tomb, for if you continue the journey with Mark, with Jesus, you will come to find, not disappointment, but a renewed sense of hope and expectation. No, Jesus does not meet our expectations, but perhaps our expectations are wrong in the first place. Perhaps, this Palms Sunday, we ought to relinquish our expectations and grab hold to Jesus’ expectations. For with Jesus, our lives are transformed in ways that we could never expect, and God shows His love for us in ways we could never imagine. Expectation: for some, it is the hope of unsure joy; for others, it is the potential for disappointment. But for all who call on the name of Christ, expectation is a realized hope in the love of God. What are your expectations?