Matthew 21

Maybe the kingdom of God isn’t like a king—maybe it’s like those who resist a king.

There is something about the wail of a bagpipe that seems especially appropriate this Sunday.

For almost 40 years they have done their plodding, gracious work on me and my vocation.

In the Palm Sunday narrative, all the signs are there: something big is about to happen.

An odd, charming gospel account that draws from dozens of sources

Jesus knows exactly what he is doing.

Remaining steadfast—offensive bodies and all

In October of 1989, word came down from Moscow: the peace prayers in Leipzig must be stopped.

Triumphal entries have a certain formula. Jesus does it all wrong.

I enjoy the tomatoes I grow, but they aren't really mine.

The Apostle Paul shows the struggle to transcend the architecture of ego.

Love has come into the world and is walking even now.

Jesus' parable of the so-called "wicked tenant farmers" is a textbook illustration—a parody, even—of the economic and political dynamics of empire.

Ezekiel steps right into the middle of a group of people busy at that most ancient of activities, going back to Eden: the blame game.

A few years ago, while wandering through the Old City of Jerusalem, I stumbled upon a spray-painted sign on the side of a small factory building. It called out in English: “We need peace.”

It seemed to me like a modern-day cry of “hosanna” coming from the people of Jerusalem.

How does a crowd turn from shouts of joy to cries of murder in such a short span?

On Palm Sunday we can answer the question, "Who is this?"

I often feel like a religious leader standing under judgment.

We need to repent of offering the world our charitable leftovers and then pouting when the world doesn’t say thank you.