Ride on, ride on in majesty, in lowly pomp ride on to die.
Last week, Jesus the Christ rode into Jerusalem—triumphant and humble, riding on a donkey. This was the Prophesied Redeemer, riding into Jerusalem to reclaim it from the hands of the oppressive Romans. But, Jesus did not rid the Romans by militant force or supernatural eviction. Instead, Jesus died.
Today, Jesus is dead. He is dead, bled out on a cross with his life gone from behind his eyes. He has stiffened up, excremented, and begun to smell of rot. The mythologized loincloth does nothing to hide the extent of his injuries, and the spear plunged into his side only confirms. Our Jesus has been murdered at the hands of the state, completely and utterly dead.
Today, you may hear a preacher proclaim that "Christ is not dead forever!" But, beloved, do not be fooled. This proclamation is but a falsity. Our Jesus died on the cross. What foolishness it is to have hope when our Jesus has died. Today is a day of sorrow, not of hope. Our hope has been nailed dead to a tree. In death, there is no hope at all. In death, there is no honor or valor—there is nothing but silence at the end of the line.
So, beloved, when the preacher says "Christ will rise in three days!," know that he is a fool. Do not be wooed away from your current grief by delusions of grandeur. Today is a day of grief. Today is a day in which our deepest cries of anguish must erupt from our souls— a day in which we plead, in this anguish, that God take the "little ones [of our enemies to] dash them against the rock!" These are the cries that must come from the depths of our souls on this most sorrowful day. If these are not your cries, I question whether you mourn the death of Jesus at all.
Our Christ is dead. Our hope is gone.
Let us be grieved.