I've never been in a parade. Watched a few up close, tuned in the Macy’s Parade on Thanksgiving (which, by the way, my brother was in this year, or last year. He was the really tall one walking behind the Sesame Street float. Couldn’t miss him. If you were watching. For the couple of microseconds that they showed the people walking behind the Sesame Street float. He was wearing a hat. Remember? No? Oh, well.) I’ve never been in a parade.
Doesn’t bother me all that much. I mean who wants all the attention. The adulation of the crowds, the cheers and the waves, the throng lining the streets, wanting to be you. In that moment you are the center of attention, the brightest star in the firmament, the man of the hour, the woman of the year. Who wouldn’t want to be in a parade?
Do you think that was why he did it? For the attention, for the adulation. Knowing what was to come, did he just want to soak up a little bit of honor before subjected to the shame and suffering that was to be his lot? Who could blame him if it was the reason? And yet it doesn’t seem quite right, that even here on this threshold, the one who would soon be on his knees washing the dust of the city streets of the feet of those called his followers, would be so self-serving on that first Palm Sunday.
We’ve come around to the parade again. That odd little celebration marked by palm leaves and shouting in church. Maybe if you are one of those go all out kind of churches you even bring in a donkey to parade up and down the aisle of your sanctuary, while the trustees keep a wary eye on the trailing end, just in case.
Here is what we’re remembering this weekend. Here is Matthew’s remembrance of what took place that day.
Matthew 21:1-11 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 fulfill 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. 9 The 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."
So many questions come to mind as we read this story. Was this prearranged or was it somehow mystical, or did the disciples commit grand donkey larceny? If the crowd was really large as Matthew says, then who was the “whole city” asking the identity question from the fringes of the parade? Or was this the first instance of a “preacher estimate”? And how did Jesus manage to sit on a donkey and its colt at the same time? What the crowd drawn by some sort of divine balancing act? And did the home owners lining the impromptu parade route complain about the crowd pulling branches off the trees?
More importantly, however, the real question was did they get it? This was a message Jesus was trying to send. Matthew got it. It may have taken him some years after the fact, but he got it. That’s why he dredges up Zechariah’s words to help us get the point. The king who comes, not on a war horse, but on a donkey of peace. Did they get it?
They shouted Hosanna, that implies they got it. Hosanna translates as “Save us!” So maybe they got it. Matthew says the crowd was large. Maybe they got it, or wanted to anyway. But then the city was clueless, who is this? And maybe the city and the crowd were marching side by side, maybe the crowd was large but was made up of followers and city dwellers, some who got it many who didn’t. Maybe they were marching along waving their branches and shouting Hosanna (which scholars tell us came to mean Hooray, or even Howdy by that time, not the prayer of petition that it once meant. Sort of like the word Goodbye, which was originally a blessing - God be with you - but now is nothing more than a wave, a signal, a cipher), but their brows were furrowed and they would turn to the one beside them and say “why are doing this again?” And maybe the response would be a shrug. Maybe it would be “That’s Jesus, the guy from Galilee.” “Oh, right” they would say pretending to know who in the world Jesus from Galilee was.
Did they get it? It is hard to say. One thing Matthew is clear about is that disaster was right around the corner. If there was any hope that Jesus was using this event to soak up a little good will, it would be shattered by the very next verse. The parade didn’t end with handshakes all around and a few high fives for a job well done. No, it trundled all the way from the gates of the city to the temple where Jesus turned over some tables and knocked over some dove cages. It ended with a rumble. The self proclaimed king of peace engages in an act of violence that left them shocked and confused. What peace was he announcing? What peace was he bringing? And if you are going to strike a blow, why not strike against the foreign oppressors and not the economic machinery of our own people?
Especially when that machinery will strike back. Wouldn’t it have been better to keep a low profile? Couldn’t he have just left a note, made a speech, wrote an editorial for the Sunday Jerusalem Times about the proper use of the Temple? Wouldn’t that have been better? Safer, anyway. Why did he have to provoke?
All kinds of questions come to our minds when we pay attention to the parade on Palm Sunday. Questions which, if you join us for worship this weekend, we won’t even attempt to answer. Caught you with that one, didn’t I? No, this is a listening Sunday. And experiencing Sunday, not an answer Sunday. Come and hear what the parade turns into. Come and hear what steps are taken once he dismounts that donkey. Come and pick up a branch and see if you want to walk along in this parade, come and see if you have it in you to shout Hosanna, or if the word gets caught in your throat. Or mixed up with another word, one of frustration and anger, one of despair and hopelessness.
Listen to his story and to yours. “Who is this?”
I love a parade.
Shalom,
Derek
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