Dr. Dale Miller

April 1, 2007

Marching in the Parade of Sacrifice

Part Six of Six Part Sermon Series, "In His Steps"

Mark 11:1-11

A church school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin had a bright idea for the Palm Sunday celebration. They had been studying the story of Jesus' Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, and they decided to recreate that historical event. One boy in the class knew a farmer who had a donkey, and they arranged to borrow it. On that Palm Sunday the same boy won the starring role, namely to be Jesus riding on the donkey.

They brought the donkey inside the building and tied him to a door handle of an exit door. At the appropriate time they untied the donkey and the boy climbed aboard the donkey and whispered a reverent, "Giddy-up." The donkey refused to move. The boy repeated the command and kicked the donkey's ribs. The animal stood stubbornly motionless. First, the church schoolteacher and then the boy's mother did what they could to urge the beast to get going, but nothing worked.

They finally gave up and the procession took place, but the donkey remained tied to the outside doorway. At least they thought he was tied. Apparently after the parade was over in the sanctuary and the palm branches were no longer waving, somehow the donkey became loose, wandered through a short hallway and decided to join the crowd by wandering down the center aisle.

That's the trouble with donkeys. A donkey can be a bearer of burdens and a hard worker when the donkey wants to. But when his inclination is otherwise, his stubborn "won't power" is beyond all reason. A farmer once remarked that among the many astonishing miracles that Jesus performed during his ministry, the fact that he could ride a donkey without the donkey bolting, bucking or kicking qualifies as a bona fide miracle. But, then again, Jesus did a lot of things that were unexpected.

Palm Sunday was an incredible day. It was like a carnival. Hundreds of thousands of Jews were jammed into the holiest of holy cities. Shoulder to shoulder, body to body. You could barely squeeze through this mob of people crammed into those little narrow streets of Jerusalem. It was Passover time, the time of celebrating the deliverance of the Jewish people from their servitude in Egypt, and the city was packed like a can of sardines.

The reputation of Jesus had already spread. The day before, Jesus Christ had produced the mightiest miracle he had ever done. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. Then coming into Jerusalem Jesus healed two blind men. The masses of people had heard about these miracles. They wanted to see the healer in action. If the Houdini of the Holy Land could pull another trick out of his bag, they would believe.

We can only imagine how excited the religious fervor became when they saw Jesus ride in on a donkey. The prophet Zechariah had predicted the entrance of the Messiah. "Lo, your sovereign comes to you, triumphant and victorious...humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt." Zechariah goes on to say that the one who comes into the city will cut off the battle bow and "command peace to the nations." Zechariah's sovereign comes to demilitarize the nations and establish shalom.

The crowd misunderstands Jesus and the kingdom, the realm that he is bringing. They spread leafy branches in the road. To the Jewish people of the time, the gesture recalls events from 160 years earlier. A group of Jewish rebels, led by the Maccabees family, engaged in guerilla warfare against the Romans. The guerillas liberated Jerusalem and reclaimed the temple. They paraded into the city with branches. They were in charge of their own destiny and they were celebrating. The branches became symbols of Jewish political independence.

The branches were a kind of first century lapel pin or a bumper sticker or magnetic car sign. The crowd picked up the branches thinking that the realm of God that Jesus represented was a latter-day version of the Maccabean independence victory from Roman oppression. Self-determination was theirs for 100 years, only to be crushed again by the Roman army. They wanted to be free again and Jesus was going to be their liberator.

As Jesus moves through the streets the crowd breaks out in a shout of "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God." These are words from Psalm 118, a Psalm that Jewish congregations recited in the temple to give thanks to God for delivering them from distress. We tend to think that "Hosanna" is a cry of praise, but in Hebrew the word means "Save us." "Hosanna," the crowd cries. "Save us." Save us from Rome, from hunger, from sickness, from poverty and from death.

The crowd adds these words to their cry: "Blessed is the coming realm of our ancestor David." The crowd wants Jesus to revive the realm of David - a high moment in Israel's history when the nation enjoyed greater independence and national standing than at any other time. The crowd thinks that the realm of God that Jesus is talking about will be such a time. We certainly can understand why the Jewish people would want such a time.

In other words, it was political pandemonium. It was chaos. The town was ready to blow up with any spark. Three to five million people were jammed into that town, and it was ready to ignite. It was revolution on the move.

What was Jesus doing? What was Jesus doing with this mass of humanity around him? Was he waving to the crowd? Was he pumping them up fiery speeches? No, Jesus didn't say a word. He rode in silence. Silence.

Jesus rode on a donkey into town. Thousands in the crowd would have appreciated him coming into the city on a tall white horse or on a chariot of war. But Jesus rode on an animal of peace, not of war. Jesus came into the city on his own terms.

The realm of God is coming, and people need to take action to get ready for it. But the realm Jesus meant is a different realm that opens a new age in which every person, relationship and situation takes place according to God's understanding of reality. The people wanted a king; they got a kingdom they didn't understand. Jesus disappointed them. They resented him because he was not going to take care of their immediate suffering.

Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world." Jesus was not the kind of king that lives in a palace. He doesn't behave like a king.

• Can we imagine a king getting down on his knees and washing the feet of his disciples?

• Can we imagine a king walking among the common people, engaging in the common, ordinary daily living?

• Can we imagine a king who tries to get his subjects to love him?

• Can we imagine a king that searches for his lost citizens like a shepherd searches for his lost sheep?

• Can we imagine a king who is willing to suffer and die for his people?

Jesus is a king who wants to rule our hearts. He wants to rule within and not from without. He doesn't want duty, but he wants hearts doing the will of God.

Jesus is a king who wants to rule our life styles, our habits, our homes, our marriages, our jobs, our friendships, and our time. Jesus is a king who wants to rule everything about us, not by using religious tricks and not by using political power. This king wants to rule everything inside of us and around us. What a strange kind of king, indeed.

This king didn't ask his disciples to take up arms and defeat the Romans. Instead he asked his disciples:

• to gather up tiny scraps of food so he could feed a multitude!

• to go fishing in deep waters!

• to sit down with tax collectors, prostitutes and other well-known sinners!

• to stay calm during a life-threatening, violent storm!

• to leave their families and security to follow him.

What a carnival. What a circus. What a mad house. What a mess. Revolutionary madness gripped the city of Jerusalem. There were people who wanted Jesus to be the Houdini of the Holy Land. "Jesus give us a sign and we'll believe. Work a little magic and we are yours." But Jesus didn't do it. There were people who wanted Jesus to work a political revolution against Roman imperialism. Jesus didn't do it. The people were disappointed.

There were very few who recognized his kingship, who recognized that here was a king who rules from his cross, whose cross is his throne, who rules through suffering, who rules through suffering love and humility. Very few people recognized his kingship and very few people became citizens of his kingdom.

Professor John Rodden at the University of Texas tells of being in the city of Hessen in western Germany in May 1995, during the 50th anniversary of the ending of World War II. Professor Rodden was privileged to attend a private dinner between two men burdened by a bitter and tragic past. They were the leading members of their families.

The first man was the younger brother of the diplomat who had masterminded the conspiracy in July 1944 to assassinate Adolph Hitler. But the conspirators were apprehended. The older brother, Adam von Trott, was excruciatingly tortured and then murdered. And it was all filmed for the viewing pleasure of the Fuehrer.

The other man at the table in 1995 was the son of Hitler's bodyguard, who became Hitler's top general at the very end of the war. This general, Kurt "Panzer" Meyer, was convicted in a war crimes trial in 1946. The son, Kurt Jr., had just written a very critical memoir about his father's life and had asked the man across from him at the table to write a preface to the book.

And so they met at this dinner. It was a first supper, an initial attempt to heal a half-century of guilt, accusation, blame and shame. In a world where there is constant struggle and fighting, the only hope we have on Palm Sunday is in the palm prints of the man from Nazareth who was willing to ride on the back of a donkey in complete humbleness.

The march into Jerusalem is a march of a man who was willing to suffer in order that we might come to know of the magnitude of God's love. Only if the lifelines of sacrificial love guide our lives, will we be able to live in the Kingdom of God, the reality of the Divine, and the realm of overflowing grace.

Jesus has ridden into Jerusalem. Jesus invites us to ride into a new reality of life, a life of love and service. Jesus needs us to be his hands and feet, his day-by-day, minute-by-minute incarnation in this world.

The way God's joy can be expressed is if our feet dance and our voices shout out the gladness of God's love in our lives. Hosanna! God save us! God invites us now to wave the palms, knowing that we gladly march in the parade of suffering and sacrifice, placing our lives in the palm prints of Jesus Christ. Hosanna! Hosanna!