After the Parade

The events of Palm Sunday took place in Jerusalem, just before the Passover. At Passover, everybody who was anybody was in Jerusalem to celebrate. A spontaneous parade was created whenever a new entourage came into town. The people who had already arrived greeted the newcomers with familiar chants and songs. They did the same for Jesus, but with him there was a strong undercurrent of excitement, anticipation that erupted into loud shouts and gestures of great honor. This was no ordinary tourist. He deserved special treatment. Hence the palm branches along with the cries of hosanna. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

Everybody loves a parade. The color, the bands, the glitz, the celebrities.

But what I want to focus on in the Palm Sunday story, is not the parade itself, but the clean up after the parade. During the parade, Jesus became the Grand Marshal by popular acclaim. Everybody was waving and shouting and well-wishing. But after the parade was over, it was time for a reality check, and some serious clean up. Not piles of ticker tape and donkey doo, but mountains of false expectations and missed opportunity. Jesus is the one with the broom and some tough words.

Read Luke 19:41-44

When I read the story of Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, even though I know how it’s going to turn out, I get my hopes up. I begin to get the feeling like, maybe these people are starting to get the message after all. Maybe they are beginning to understand what Jesus is all about. But in the blink of an eye, it becomes clear that they are miles away from where Jesus is.

It’s a little bit like what happened to a physician who was taking her little daughter to preschool. The girl picked up her mom's stethoscope that was lying on the front seat of the car and began playing with it. "Be still my heart," the mom thought, "My daughter wants to follow in my footsteps." Then the child spoke into the instrument: "Welcome to McDonald's. May I take your order?"

While Jesus is opening the door to genuine peace with God, the Palm Sunday crowd is looking for the fast food track to the Kingdom of God.

If only you knew, he said, if only you knew the things that made for peace. But you don't, and because you don't, you will become vulnerable to all kinds of attack. You'll be decimated, destroyed, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.

Tough words.

You did not recognize the time of your visitation from God. Incredible words. Did you hear what the people said during the parade? They were shouting hosanna, and hoping against hope that Jesus was the Messiah. Yet, according to Jesus, they did not recognize that he was truly God in their midst.

How can that be? Well, mostly it has to do with expectations. They expected the Messiah to be a certain kind of person. You’ve heard this before: In their minds he was supposed to be a strong military presence. Someone who was overwhelmingly popular and strong. Someone who could attract and train and lead a host of freedom fighters who would overturn the power of Rome, and set Israel free. Perhaps, foremost, he would be someone who would be unbeatable, unflappable, unkillable.

Jesus had raised their hopes that he would be this Messiah, by his powerful teaching, his amazing miracles, his very presence.

On that Palm Sunday, expectations were at a fever pitch. Never mind that when Jesus rode into the city, he was riding a donkey instead of a white charger. Never mind that he was saying "My kingdom is not of this world." They ignored those things, and cried out "Hosanna," which means "God save!" More than a cry of praise, hosanna was a desperate cry for help. "Go get 'em Jesus. Show them who you are." Fix what is wrong with our world, and do it now.

Jesus did not try to prevent them from calling him king. Indeed, it was his destiny to be king. But he desperately wanted them to know the kind of king he was. He desperately wanted them to know the things that make for peace.

The crowd saw in Jesus a Messiah of their own making, but they did not recognize that God was truly in their midst. They did not understand that genuine peace was possible through him. The peace that comes from surrendering one's life: past, present and future, to God. The peace that comes when the people of God allow God to make some serious changes--not in other people, not in their circumstances or outward surroundings, but in their own heart of hearts. This is why Jesus came. To forgive sin. To reconcile people to God. And that's the point that most of the people in the Palm Sunday crowd missed.

What's sobering is that these were religious people. On the surface of it, they were doing what good religious folks do. They were worshiping. Celebrating the great feast of the Passover, which hearkened back to the days of Moses leading the people of Israel out of Egypt. The great story of God saving the people with power and might. They were so aware of God's actions in the past, so hopeful that God would intervene in their present situation. But their expectations and their misunderstandings kept them from experiencing a vital connection with Jesus, the Son of God, that would have made all the difference. The image I have of the Palm Sunday crowd is of well meaning people waving at God, as the procession moves past. They’re caught up in the moment, but it quickly fades. So, when Jesus does not act like the Messiah of their dreams, they turn on him, reject him.

This is our connection point with the story. Because we too are religious people. We, too, are doing the right stuff, at least on the outside. Good Christian people today are in that same dangerous position as the crowd on Palm Sunday. While we are busy celebrating what God has done in the past, and hoping against hope that God will intervene in our lives, we may miss the connection altogether.

Many of you are familiar with the contemporary Christian singer, Amy Grant. In the mid-1980's, her life was not as charmed as it might have appeared on the outside. There were troubles in her marriage; her husband Gary had a cocaine habit and they were talking divorce. Amy found herself in one of her darkest moments. Here's what she says about that time in her life. "For a few days, I just stayed in bed and mourned my life. The only hope I could see was just junking it all, moving to Europe, and starting everything all over again. It was then my sister, in a last- ditch visit, marched up right beside my bed and said, 'Fine, go to Europe, leave it all behind, start your life again. But before you go, tell (my little girl) how you can sing that Jesus can help her through anything in her life, but that he couldn't help you.'" Her sister's words hit their mark. Amy and her husband began marriage and personal counseling in earnest, slowly rebuilding their relationship with each other and with God. (Fresh ill. 29)

The challenge of Palm Sunday is this: the people of God must never be content simply to preach about and sing about and tell about God. We have got to let God get inside of us and our relationships. We have got to let God change us into the people God has called us to be. That's what Christian discipleship is all about. It was three years ago on Palm Sunday that Morning Star was chartered as a congregation in the Presbyterian Church (USA). Six years ago on Palm Sunday that we held our first worship service. Six years of proclaiming the Gospel in this community. Six years of being the Church together. Somewhere along the line, you joined the journey, and became a part of the adventure called Morning Star. All that time we’ve been saying to each other that God can make a difference in your struggle and in mine. Six years we’ve been saying that God can make a difference in our world. As you look back at that time, what are the changes that you have allowed God to make in your life? Has God made a difference in your life? Or are you just waving as the parade goes by?