Taking a Good Look

A sermon preached at Old South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Hallowell, Maine, April 9, 2006, Palm Sunday.

The Rev. Susan M. Reisert, Minister

Sermon prayer: Gracious and Merciful God, in whom is the fullness of light and wisdom, enlighten our minds by your Holy Spirit and grant us grace to receive your word with reverence and humility. Amen.

I don’t like parades. I just don’t. The thought of being on the side of some street or watching on television that seemingly endless stream of floats and bands and clowns and music and fire trucks and people throwing candy, etc., just about sends me into spasms. I guess it’s never been my idea of a good time, though I’m not sure why.

I remember that especially when I was young, my mother loved to watch parades-- in person and on television. We would all go to the town’s parade on the Fourth of July and sometimes to other local parades for other special occasions. I remember on every Thanksgiving morning the television would be turned on to the Macy’s parade, although I always wished that I could change the channel to something else. I remember being curious and confused by my mother’s wishful desire to attend the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade in person and as a family. I was always glad that that wish remained only that-- a wish.

If I remember correctly, I believe it was during the country’s Bicentennial when the Queen of England visited Boston. And there was a big parade, of course. Some members of my family thought it would be a great idea to go to Boston and to scout around for a good place to stand—and, if we were lucky, to sit—and wait for a long time in the heat of summer and see the Queen of England go by.

And, so we did. We went into the city with countless thousands of people to see this parade in which the Queen of England was featured. Finally, the car that was carrying the Queen went by. And there she was: the Queen of England. She had one of her queenly little hats atop her head and she was waving that wave that the Queen of England is supposed to wave and I suppose she had something of that aura of royalty about her.

In a moment, though, she was gone—gone on to continue the parade route. I wasn’t very impressed. She was just a little woman, a proper little woman, with a nice little hat and a carefully gloved hand that robotically waved at the massive crowd. What was I doing there, I’m sure I asked myself. What were all of these people doing there, I’m also sure I asked. Was anyone as disappointed as I was? Except for her nice clothes, she seemed altogether ordinary. I’m not sure what I expected, but she didn’t quite appear as Queen-like as I guess I expected as a young teenager who was dragged off to see a parade that I didn’t much want to see anyway. She seemed too ordinary for such a fuss to be made of her.

Though I don’t want to get myself into trouble by seeming to equate the Queen of England with Jesus the Messiah, I often think about that experience I had in seeing the Queen of England in the midst of a massive parade when I think of Palm Sunday and the triumphal entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem and what transpired after that. Palm Sunday is, after all, about a parade.

On that first Palm Sunday, the crowds had gathered. The excitement was building. The Messiah is coming! The Messiah is coming! People started to come together and congregate in the streets of Jerusalem. The word was spreading. They all gathered at the route they thought he would take. They lined the streets—sitting, standing, getting up on their tiptoes, perhaps climbing on nearby buildings, trying to get a good look.

The Messiah is coming! The Messiah is coming! The one who would restore Israel’s place in the world. The one who would send the Romans out of town and away from their land forever. The one who would deliver them; the one who would save them. The mighty promised king—finally and at last.

Some were spreading their cloaks on the ground and others were laying down leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. For that is what you were supposed to do when welcoming the Messiah, wasn’t it? Clear the way; make smooth and straight the path.

And finally the time had come. He approached the city gate. The excitement was really building now and people were crowding in and trying to see. The Messiah is coming! The Messiah is coming! The drama reached a fever pitch and the crowd began to shout, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven! Hosanna! God save us!”

And, there he was, the Messiah riding on a colt along the streets of Jerusalem. And there he was, the one who was going to save them and restore Israel? There he was, the mighty promised, long awaited for King??

This guy, this ordinary looking guy. This was the Messiah? This was the one long hoped for? This was the One who would kick the Romans out and restore Israel’s place and assume the throne?

I’m sure it take long for the questions to begin, the concerns to begin to form. It didn’t take long for the people to begin to wonder: is this really the Messiah? The One who will restore Israel? This ordinary looking guy?

Maybe they’ll give him a chance, a little chance to prove himself, to assert himself as Israel’s new king.

It didn’t take long for the presumed disappointment of the crowd to run its swift course. By the end of the week, that very same crowd that yelled its “Hosannas! And Blessed be the One who comes in the name of the Lord” was yelling “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

It didn’t take long at all. The great excitement of the coming of the Messiah on Palm Sunday soon gave way to the disillusionment of the crowds. The Messiah was supposed to be a mighty king who would restore the throne of David and would bring dominance once again to God’s chosen people.

But, when this Messiah showed up looking like a rather ordinary guy on a colt no less—no army in sight, no crown on his head, no great speech to inspire the people to run the Romans out of town—it didn’t take long for them to turn on him and to chant for his execution.

We embark today on the most solemn of weeks in the Christian calendar and the most difficult. We begin with the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem as the crowds gathered and people threw down cloaks and branches to honor his path, to make straight and smooth the coming of God’s promised one.

But, just a few days later, that same Jesus who rode into Jerusalem as the One who would save, which is what Hosanna means, would be executed on a cross after an angry crowd shouted for the release of the thief Barrabbas instead of Jesus, the man who had committed no crime.

If you’ve been paying attention to the news in the past few days, you will have heard of the Gospel of Judas, a Gnostic document from the second or third century, recently translated and released for examination. The Gospel of Judas claims that Judas was the favored disciple and that Jesus asked Judas to betray him so that he could be released from his body and in order that the prophecy and the saving work of Christ could be accomplished. It is difficult, and perhaps impossible, no know whether or not the Gospel of Judas is worth taking a close look at—for lots of reasons I cannot go into this morning. But, whether Judas turned Jesus in for some silver coins on his own or because he was told to by Jesus himself, there was still a crowd who chanted for Jesus’ crucifixion—despite the fact that Jesus had not committed a crime—well, no crime other than looking like an ordinary guy when he was supposed to be the Messiah, the long promised King to restore Israel to David’s days of glory.

The great welcome of Palm Sunday didn’t last long and only a few short days later, Jesus is betrayed by Judas as well as the crowd, tried and convicted and nailed to the cross.

We may feel some comfort in distancing ourselves from that week that happened so very long ago and in such a far away place. But, in distancing ourselves, we are only fooling ourselves.

We too find that the God that we want is different than the God that we get, the God that comes into our lives. We too find ourselves disappointed by the God who does not come swooping in to save us from life’s many perils. We too find ourselves dismayed by a Savior who refuses to wear the earthly crown, sending our enemies away and defeated. We too find that the God that we want is not the God who actually comes to us.

The challenge of Holy Week is to find the courage to take a mirror and to take a good, long look at who we are and where we are in our lives of faith. This week is about taking a good, long look at those places where our expectations come into conflict with the Savior and the God whom we worship.

It’s not about counting up our shortcomings or shoring up our guilt. Taking a good, long look in the mirror is about being honest about those places in our lives—in our mind and in our heart—that need some work, that need some of God’s presence. And, then, to bring those things and to offer them to our Savior—who knows all about them.

This week is about taking a good look at ourselves and admitting that we too betray the One whom we call Messiah and Savior. We too stand in that crowd and shout for crucifixion, though in much less obvious ways.

By next Sunday, we will be basking in the Good News of redemption and hope. But, that doesn’t let us off of the hook for this coming week, when we are called to take a good, long look at who we are and how we stray from the path that God lays out for us, reflecting on the ways that we not only stray from that path, but actually betray the One who seeks to save us.

Our Savior knows all about these things already, so we are not offering up any surprises—though, perhaps, we may surprise ourselves.

So, I would strongly encourage you to make the time this week to attend a Maundy Thursday or Good Friday service or to read a Passion narrative from one of the Gospels or to follow the list of readings that I have put out in the vestry.

This week is important, important to our lives of faith. By taking this Holy Week seriously, we help open up that space to experience the joy of Easter as we never have before. Our Savior knows all about those places in our lives that need His presence. This is a good week to look into those places ourselves, so that we may find ourselves looking into the empty tomb of Easter in a whole new way. Thanks be to God. Amen.