“That Strange Palm Sunday Parade”

Mark 11:1-11 & 15-19, Luke 19:28-44

April 5, 2009 + Palm Sunday

Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ

400 Glenwood Drive

Chattanooga, Tennessee 37404

Rev. David Brown

One of the first books I remember reading as a child was “To Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street” by Dr. Seuss. I believe it may have been the first book he published. It’s a charming story made for a child’s imagination. It tells of a young boy looking out the window of his home and seeing a horse and wagon passing by on Mulberry Street. Page after page, his imagination embellishes this scene until at the end of the story he sees a circus parade passing in front of him. But at the end, everything returns to the simple scene with which the story began: A horse and wagon on Mulberry Street.

In his wonderful way, Dr. Seuss captured that common tendency in all of us to elaborate on what we have seen and heard, particularly as more and more time passes.

That, I believe, is what happened as the years passed and the Gospel writers tried to recall what happened on the first Palm Sunday. With each re-telling, that strange Palm Sunday parade became more and more elaborate. And, of course, that elaboration continues to this day. The Palm Sunday parade in Hollywood movies and on passion play stages is usually something worthy of Cecil B. DeMille. But scholars today believe that something simpler and, perhaps, more poignant was going on that first Sunday.

For a moment, let’s try to go back in imagination and see the scene unfold before us. The setting is Jerusalem, then and now one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Through history it has been called Jerusalem the golden. Why? Because many of its buildings are made with Jerusalem stone, a beautiful yellow white stone that gives off a golden glow in the sun light. Again, then as now, Jerusalem is never more beautiful than at Passover. Try to imagine how it must have been that first Palm Sunday. The city is crowded with pilgrims from every part of the world. Everywhere we look we can see crowds of people pushing and jostling, flushed with holiday enthusiasm. And if we look closely we see an itinerant young Rabbi from Galilee named Jesus Bar Joseph coming into the city with a small group of his friends, the Disciples.

As each group of pilgrims reaches the brow of the Mount of Olives they suddenly see the whole city lying before them, gleaming with a golden glow in the sun. There before them is the great golden dome of Herod’s temple. The pilgrims cannot restrain their enthusiasm. They burst into enthusiasm and sing hymns and psalms of praise. Here they are at last – at Jerusalem – not simply the capital city of a small conquered nation, but Zion, city of God, the living and eternal symbol of a people longing to be free. Jerusalem is the place God had promised the Messiah would appear, the Messiah; the anointed one, the liberator. Who can be silent at such a moment? “Now, God, Now! Make it this year! Free your people! Give us the Messiah!”

And that small band of Disciples from Galilee cannot restrain themselves either. For months they had been following Jesus along the dusty roads and through the poor villages in the north. It hadn’t been easy with the crowds pressing in on Jesus, demanding his time and attention, exhausting him and them. And always in the background was the growing and ominous opposition of the political and religious leaders. No, it hadn’t been easy, but today would make up for everything because they knew, they knew, who Jesus was: Jesus was, he had to be, the Messiah. Now, this year at Jerusalem at Passover, Jesus would be revealed and recognized for who they were convinced he was: the Messiah, the liberator. Now, this year at Jerusalem at Passover, he would set up his reign with the power of God behind him. He would throw out the hated Roman conquerors and their quisling Jewish supporters. Then he would reward his faithful followers who had been with him from the beginning. They would be first in line for positions of authority and power and wealth.

No wonder the Disciples shout out in joy: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!” and the good natured crowd gets caught up in the same feeling. “What a beautiful day! Hosanna! Isn’t it wonderful to be here at Jerusalem at Passover! Hosanna! Who’s that over there riding on the donkey where people are shouting? Jesus of Nazareth? Good for you, Jesus! I always like to see young people taking an interest in religion. Hosanna! Go get ‘um fellah! Hosanna!”

And what is the object of all this attention doing? How is Jesus reacting? Is he waving back at the crowd? Smiling a politician’s smile? Flashing a V for victory sign? But look closer and we see something astonishing. According to Luke’s Palm Sunday story, Jesus is not smiling but weeping. He is saying strange words: “If only you knew the things that make for a real peace! But you can’t see it.” Then the moment passes. Jesus goes into the city and this strange Palm Sunday parade is over.

But that’s not the kind of Palm Sunday parade we want, is it? We want a more “up-beat” kind of religion. We like the singing children, the Psalms, the decorations, the music. We want a religion that gives us what we want, not a religion that asks something from us.

And what do we want? Down through the ages, then and now, most religious people want power. We want power for ourselves, for our religion, for our nation. We want power to do what we think should happen in this world.

There is a profound and troubling chapter in “The Brothers Karamazov” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky called “The Grand Inquisitor.” One of the brothers, Ivan, tells his brother Aloysha about a poem he has written called “The Grand Inquisitor.” In this poem vision Jesus returns to earth at the height of the Inquisition in 16^th Century Seville. Without a word he moves among the people healing and blessing them as he had done 15 centuries before. Miraculously, the people instantly recognize who he is. They are drawn to his compassionate presence. Just as he had during his earthly ministry, Jesus raises a little girl from the dead who is being carried into the Cathedral. At that very moment the Cardinal himself, the Grand Inquisitor, passes by the Cathedral and sees what is going on. Immediately, he orders his guard to seize Jesus and lead him away.

Later, in the dark, narrow, prison the Grand Inquisitor questions Jesus. “Is it you? You?” But Jesus does not answer him. So the Grand Inquisitor speaks to him. He tells Jesus that he is neither wanted nor needed anymore. His teachings are obsolete. The church knows better how to handle the affairs of the world. The church now has power and it no longer wants the freedom that Christ promised to all his followers.

What a terrible vision! But dare we deny this has been the sad record of Christian history? Instead of following the teachings of Jesus so clearly set out in the Gospels, we have preferred to go our own way and do our own thing. We have wanted power and as Lord Acton promised, it has corrupted us. And the more power we have sought, the more absolutely we have been corrupted. O, yes, we tell ourselves that in this world we must be practical. Perhaps, we have not been as cynical as Chairman Mao and his famous words that all power comes out of a gun, but in our own ways we have sought financial, religious, political, and military power. And as we have done that, the Prince of Peace weeps over us just as he wept over Jerusalem.

Now please do not remind me that Mark’s Gospel records that after this strange Palm Sunday parade Jesus went into the temple and threw out the animal sellers and money changers. There’s power for you! And as the years pass and the story is told and re-told we finally come to the Gospel of John who says that Jesus even made a whip and drove these commercial thieves out of the temple. But here we must be very careful.

Phene Perkins in her fine commentary on the Gospel of Mark in the New Interpreter’s Bible warns us not to misunderstand this story. Some have alleged that it legitimates Christian attempts to overthrow corrupt regimes, especially those whose power is supported by religious leaders who ignore the abuse of human rights by the wealthy and powerful. Others have used this passage in debates with Christians who oppose war, claiming that Jesus’ behavior in the temple shows that he accepted a legitimate role for violence. Dr. Perkins believes that both views go too far and I agree with her. While there is no doubt that Jesus longed for a time when God’s reign of peace and justice would come upon the earth, he never let his followers forget that the only God – sanctioned means to that end is peaceful non-violence. Violence, no matter how we may try to justify it, leads only to more violence. Have we not learned that lesson in two thousand years?

As demanding, as difficult, as painful as it may be, the Christian way to peace is very different. Let us be clear, this way to peace has been recognized by all the world’s greatest leaders. We think of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his clarion call to peaceful non-violent protest which changed our nation. We think of Mahatma Gandhi who told us “We must be the change we wish to see in the world.” We are reminded by the Dalai Lama that “True Religion is kindness.” Most of all, on this Psalm Sunday in the year of our Lord 2009 we think of Jesus who rode into Psalm Sunday in that strange parade and set a challenge before us to work for peace in a way that the world seldom appreciates or understands. And yet, it is the only lasting path to peace that we will ever know.

When I was in England some years ago, I visited Coventry cathedral. The cathedral was almost destroyed during a German bombing raid in the Second World War. Only the walls of the cathedral were left standing. A magnificent new cathedral was built next to the old one. In back of the altar in the new cathedral is a large wall hanging, “Christ Seated In Glory” by Graham Sutherland. In this powerful image Christ is pictured as stern, almost angry. In a way, it reminds one of that funny bumper sticker: “Jesus is coming back soon and, boy, is he mad!” This is the God in Christ of power and violence and judgment so beloved of many Christians which justifies our own power and violence and judgment. But in the old almost – destroyed cathedral there is a different image. On the remains of the high altar there is a cross formed by two pieces of iron that were fused together during the bombing. That cross is a reminder of the cross toward which Jesus rode on that strange Palm Sunday parade. It reminds us that God in Christ comes to us in weakness as a suffering servant and calls God’s faithful followers to the same path of servant-hood. Whether in our small conflicts over dearly held principles or in our larger conflicts pursued with power, Christians are called to a fateful choice: Will we live by love or destroy by violence. The choice is ours.