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Have you ever been called fickle? If you have, you probably did not like it. Fickle is not something any of us would ever want to be known as. The dictionary defines "fickle" as "Inconstant in feeling or in purpose; changeful; capricious." Roget's Thesaurus gives synonyms for the word "fickle" like "indecisive; unstable; unreliable; irresponsible; vacillating." And beyond that, there is almost a connotation of dishonesty about the word "fickle." No one would want to be called fickle.

But every year about this time, as we read of the events of the last week of Jesus' earthly life, one cannot help but be struck by the fickleness of people. Here we have Palm Sunday, great crowds shouting their lungs out: "Hosanna ... Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord ... Hosanna in the highest!" (vv. 9-10). And yet, just days later, those same lungs were out there shouting, "Crucify him ... crucify him ... crucify him" (Mark 15:13-14). What could be more fickle than that?

Perhaps it is not so surprising. Perhaps it could almost be predicted ... simply on the basis of the gospel record. With just a brief look at a few of the events that scripture records as happening during the last week of Jesus' earthly ministry, we might see what caused such fickleness back then. And, in the process, we might see something of ourselves at the same time.

There was Christ's triumphal ride into Jerusalem itself. Our text tells us of the instruction to two of the disciples to go ahead of the others and bring back a donkey colt for his use. This they did, and the brief journey into town began.

Could that donkey have been a part of Jesus' problem? After all, we think of a majestic king coming in triumph borne on the back of a fine, strong, snorting stallion, not a lowly donkey. Donkeys are for plowing and pulling wagons, not triumphal marches. How much respect could we have for a king who uses a donkey instead of a horse? At least, that is the way we think. But, truth be known, back then, that would not have caused any wonder. Kings did ride on horseback, but mostly only when they were going out to war. Kings that came in peace generally rode on a donkey. The king who would deliver Israel would come in peace. The people who saw Jesus that day would have understood the symbolism, and many would have been perfectly happy to cheer such a parade ... many, but not all.

Sadly, there were probably some whose cheers that day might have grown quickly silent, some for whom the symbolism of a peaceful king would not have been satisfactory at all, some whose cheers could easily turn to jeers within just a few days. They were the group known as the Zealots. Like every good Jew, they were looking for the coming of the promised Messiah, but they were looking for him to come as a warrior -- one who would gather the faithful to do battle with the hated Roman legions; one who would drive Caesar from the land of Israel. Even the cry "Hosanna" fit that thinking -- "Hosanna" in Aramaic, the language of the people, meant "Save us, please," or "Save us now." It was not simply some ancient way of saying "Hip, hip, hooray."

Yes, the Zealots wanted a king to lead them. But a peaceful king? No, that just would not do. Some have speculated that Judas was a Zealot and that he betrayed Jesus precisely because the Lord did not fit the image of the Messiah that Zealots had in mind. You see, the Zealots wanted a ruler in their own image, one who would be as willing to fight as they were. They would be happy to follow someone ... at least, as long as that king would lead where they thought he should go. But if that king wanted to lead in some other direction ... ummm ... trouble!

The day after Jesus' triumphal ride, he came into the temple and made a wreck of the place. The religious establishment had put together a right thriving business in the sale of birds and animals that could be used for a worshiper's sacrifice. The practice had no doubt begun with the highest of motives -- after all, people who had traveled many miles might appreciate not having to carry their sacrifices with them, especially knowing that those sacrifices would have to be perfect in every way when presented to the priests. That would have been difficult after transporting birds and animals over long distances. Unfortunately, greed got the better of those religious folks who had started their service with such high motives, and the result was that worshipers were getting royally ripped off when they would come to make their purchases. Jesus could not abide something like that happening in God's house, so he put a stop to it -- he threw the bums out.

I doubt that there were too many of those business types who had been there for Jesus' ride into town the day before. They might have been on the fringes of the crowd, curious, but they were probably not the ones doing the cheering. They had heard about this Jesus and his miraculous works over the past three years, but Jesus had never really been "one of them" so they might not have been expected to greet his coming with any enthusiasm. Those folks could not really be called "fickle." But I would not be surprised to find that some of those yelling, "Hosanna" at the top of their lungs on one day would find themselves very quiet on the next. After all, the way they practiced their religion was being challenged, and they probably did not like it much.

A day or so later, Jesus and his friends were back in the temple and saw a poor widow woman coming in and making her offering. As you recall, it was not much of an offering as offerings go -- just two little coins that today would not even be worth a penny. Lots of others were making their offerings, too, and in much more substantial amounts, but this woman caught Jesus' attention. He told those friends that this poor widow had given a greater offering than even those who were giving fabulous sums. His point was that most of the offerings were not that big a deal because they were being given out of what people really did not need -- they were giving the leftovers. But this woman was giving sacrificially, because she was giving everything she had.

Now, the Lord was not trying to say that this should be the universal standard for offerings; after all, the standard had been set centuries before -- it was the tithe, the first tenth of all income, and that same standard is the one we have today. What Jesus wanted to convey was that, for religion to be what it ought to be, a real commitment is required -- it cannot be something that is half-hearted or taken lightly or something to be taken care of once everything else is done. It has to be willing to make sacrifices. I would suspect that not a few "Hosannas" would fall silent at something like that and the words "Crucify him" begin to form. Fickle folks!

Fickle folks -- folks who turned against Jesus when they found he would not lead where they wanted to go; folks who turned against him when they found that his religion was not theirs; folks who turned against him when they found that he called for genuine commitment. It was that way 2,000 years ago, and it has been that way ever since. How could those "Hosannas" turn into "Crucify him" in just five short days? It was not hard. It was not hard at all.

Fickle folks -- indecisive, unstable, unreliable, vacillating. Such a change between Palm Sunday and Good Friday. Hard to imagine? Not really. After all, they were just like us, and our tendency would have been to do the same thing. But praise God, that was not the end of the story ... neither for them nor for us. Easter came, and with it the promise of a new life in Christ. By the power of the risen Lord, fickle folks become faithful folks.