"Of All the Parades"
A sermon by The Rev. Keenan Kelsey
Noe Valley Ministry, Presbyterian Church (USA)
Palm Sunday, March 20, 2005
- Matthew 21:1-11
- 1 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately.*’ 4 This took place to fulfil what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, 5 ‘Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey,and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ 6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd* spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’ 10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ 11 The crowds were saying, ‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.’
If you were in a position of authority in that town during Passover you were nervous. As a matter of fact, the Roman ruler of the province of Palestine spent most of the rest of his year in another city, but always came to stay in Jerusalem during the Passover, to be with the Roman garrison should trouble break out. It was a powder keg. Talk had been going around about another rebellion brewing. Something was stirring.
Into that vortex of tension and anticipation rides Jesus and his entourage. Jesus himself senses that now is the time to make a grand entrance. He pre-arranges to use a beast and its foal. And lest we get too distracted by trying to imagine Jesus riding two animals, remember that Matthew is taking literally the prophecy of Zechariah which announces a triumphant King riding on a donkey. He apparently does not understand Hebrew parallelism, that is, a poetic style that says one thing and then says it again in a little different way. Zechariah is speaking of only one animal but Matthew understands him to be talking about two!
Accordingly, he selects a colt, a young horse or donkey, probably used as a work animal in the fields around Bethany. As one writer puts it, Jesus “chooses an agricultural tool, not a weapon of war; a tractor, not a tank to make his entrance into Jerusalem” (Christian Century, April 5, 2000, “Living By the Word”).
As Jesus draws close to the city, a crowd begins to form, eager to welcome him into Jerusalem. They gather up palms, the symbol of Roman victory, and begin to make noise. Their shouts of greeting that day are not as innocent as we might imagine them to be. “Hosanna!” they cry. “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of David! Hosanna!”
Hosanna was a shout for salvation. It meant “Save us!” in Hebrew, and carried almost a desperate tone to it. “Come to our rescue! Free us from our captivity!”
“Hosanna in the highest!”
They are fighting words, and those in power—both religious and political power—hear them as the threat they are. The people shouting careened from nationalism to wild-eyed religious fervor and back again. A frenzied anticipation that this teacher from Nazareth might indeed be the long-awaited, triumphant Messiah leads them to lift their voices in the ancient royal acclamation: “Hosanna to the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Haven’t you experienced parades that have an undercurrent, an expectation, a sort of call to commitment? Every year, right around this time, my Saturday morning sleep is interrupted by sirens and horns and shouts coming from the main street of my small Marin hamlet. I rub my eyes, and think “What the heck?” I leash the dog and go down the hill to discover -- an incongruous parade of trucks and cars and balloons and banners and youngsters in uniforms and adults in umpire clothes or else in colorful shirts, all waving and shouting. I discover the revelry of hundreds of Marin Little Leaguers from southern Marin celebrating their opening day. I think of the enthusiasms of those little leaguers– and I know that their work is just beginning. Their cheers will soon be the grunts and groans and tears and frustration of a determined pursuit of excellence. Soon they will have to practice and perform.
About a year ago there was parade up to city hall. Exuberant same-gender couples lined up for blocks, waiting to be legally married. What a joyful parade it was, with flowers and tears and love and rejoicing. But the gay and lesbian couples were well aware of the trials ahead in this homophobic and reactive world; they well know the difficulty of maintaining a faithful covenant relationship in a world of persecution.
And yesterday there was a parade from Dolores Park to Civic Center -- a march of solidarity, marking 2 full years since the bombs started falling in Iraq. Instead of palms there were banners and signs; and the hosannas were for a better, more peaceful, more reasonable world. The Bush administration is in the middle of an optimism campaign and wants us to believe that a stable peace is around the corner in Iraq. But most realists see years of chaos and violence ahead, and years of steady, frustrating work and witness.
Jesus arrived in Jerusalem to a spontaneous, street fair sort of event, with people spilling from their houses, drawn by the fanfare, sharing food and laughter as they raced along to welcome Jesus. Some would have been his followers, both the close circle of disciples and those who had hung around on the fringes of his ministry for the past three years. Others would have been just curious, full of the excitement of Passover preparation and ready for a party. Others were the skeptical, the dubious, and still others were probably sent to spy. Their report back to the powers and principalities would seal Jesus’ fate. The air would have been thick with political agenda and subterfuge and none of this escaped the gentle man entering Jerusalem.
Matthew says that the whole city was shaken. This is the same verb he uses for the great earthquake at the crucifixion, the one that opens graves and disrupts the ordinary separation of the living and the dead. It was a calculated and elaborate entry into a life and death drama which would change the world forever.
Up to the entry into Jerusalem, Jesus’ message had largely been one of grace, of forgiveness and healing. But now, as the donkey that carried the pregnant Mary to Bethlehem and then on their flight into Egypt now carries Jesus back into the grasp of his enemies, Jesus seems to be saying, “The time for miracles is over. The time for commitment is now.” Indeed, in all four Gospels, after Jesus enters Jerusalem to the shouts of Hosanna and palm branches, there is not another miracle recorded. Instead, what you find is a persistent call to faithfulness, to courage, loyalty, duty, willingness to risk.
For Jesus, people went out and tore off palm branches to wave... symbols of joy and hope... and of life. Jesus calls us to do the same.
Hold on to your palms. They are meant to give courage and encouragement, power and empowerment. And remember what is holding those palms – your own palms.
Hold out your hands... there they are... there are the palms he really wants us to raise...
Raise your palms, your hands in praise to this Christ, this one who becomes a donkey king, a bearer of our sins...
Raise your palms, stretch them out to receive him, to touch him, to accept the love and grace and peace and joy and forgiveness he offers in his hands and from the very heart of God...
Raise your palms, stretch them out to the world in his name, to offer all the love and grace and commitment he has given you...
Offer your palms, your hands, in service, in commitment.
The road may be hard. But the crowds called out “Hosanna, save us.”
He will.