Laudable

Luke 19:29 – 40

Palm Sunday:  March 24, 2013

One Spring, a couple of years before Jesus’ birth, the city of Jerusalem was full of Jews who had come from all over to celebrate the Passover.  This happened every year, and every year the sitting king, in this case Herod the Great, rode into the city with great fanfare and of course many soldiers.  The people lined the street, and as the king passed by they shouted things like, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”   It was all a great drama meant to show who ruled whom.

This year, 4 BCE, the soldiers were particularly important because the king knew there were some dissident Jews tired of foreign occupiers.  Herod was concerned that they would incite the masses and with so many Jews in the city at once, things could get ugly fast.  Some of the dissidents were hanging out in the temple.  They were trouble makers.  They did not accept the one who claimed to be king.  They weren’t bowing down, shouting blessings, or offering their allegiance in any way.  Instead, when the royal parade of King Herod came into Jerusalem and approached the temple, these dissidents began to throw stones. 

And the only thing that could have happened that day happened:  King Herod and his soldiers slaughtered 2,000 Jews that day and took tens of thousands as slaves.  When you don’t show complete allegiance to the king, there is a hefty price to pay.

Fast forward some 30 odd years.  It’s Passover again, and King Herod’s ruthless son, Herod Antipas, knows it’s a time ripe for political unrest.  He’s headed into Jerusalem in the royal parade, surrounded by Roman supplied soldiers.  He makes his display of power among the people, requiring them to reaffirm their allegiance, listening to their cries:  “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.”  Few, I’m sure, have forgotten the last slaughter, and all know there will be no tolerance of dissent. 

But this year there’s another parade coming in on the other side of the city.  “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” people are crying out.  But Herod Antipas is nowhere to be found.  It’s a royal parade, only Jesus sits at the center of this one.  Jesus is the one hailed as the King who comes in the name of the Lord.  This was more than throwing stones.  This was laying down the gauntlet; it was a direct challenge to the king’s authority.  Calling another person “king” was high treason and it would not go unnoticed. 

All glory, laud and honor, to you O Christ we sing; to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.  Our Palm Sunday recreates the joy and glory of the parade that day when people hailed Jesus as the king, sang his praises, laid down their cloaks.  We have children waving branches, people singing at the top of their voices, proclaiming Jesus as the one who comes in God’s name.  Our Palm Sunday worship generally has a festive atmosphere, because that’s what parades are like.  Festive, joyful, full of hope.  And I’m guessing that’s pretty close to the atmosphere at the parade on that Passover day.  Hope and excitement. 

But this isn’t 4^th of July parade kind of excitement.  There’s really nothing sweet about this.  This parade is full of glory, but only in the way the marches led by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. were filled with glory, laud and honor.  You might go in singing praises, but you knew you would eventually come face to face with armed soldiers with order to stop you.  No matter how festive, you didn’t hail another king and not know the risk you were taking. 

So why were these people taking this risk?  Each had their own personal reasons, I’m sure, but basically it was because they wanted Jesus to take Herod’s place.  They wanted a new king, and they were ready to die and kill for it.  And Jesus seems up for the game.

But there’s a twist in this scene, as there so often is with Jesus.  From the very beginning of this day, Jesus is doing two things simultaneously:  He is, with every action, making two claims:  I am your king – I am not a king. 

Yes, I will lead the parade, he says.  I will accept the role of king – the one who enters the city to shouts of allegiance.  I will accept the titles “Lord,” “Master,” “King.” In that day, kings could send their messengers ahead and commandeer any person or animal they thought they needed, and so Jesus did just that.  He sent his disciples to commandeer a colt, no permission asked.  Jesus seemed more than willing to act the part of King.

But Jesus accepted this role of king only to make the point that he would never be a king – not like Herod.  He did not commandeer soldiers or horses to carry a chariot:  He commandeered a humble colt.  There were no signs of power in his parade:  No wealth on display, no weapons or soldiers in sight to remind people that he was willing to kill to be the new King.  No crown.  He will not be lifted into a chariot, he will sit low on a colt.  When they call him king, it will be awkward because he is the anti-king.

It must have been confusing to the people there.  “The multitude of disciples,” we’re told.  This is the crowd that has been building over three years – it includes Jesus’ friends, disciples, the people he healed and those who have seen what he did.  It includes people from the neighboring village, but likely also people who had been walking with him for miles and miles.  There were undoubtedly poor people, hungry people, people the world shoved down and out. 

Most surely found hope in the vision of a kingdom Jesus described, though they didn’t understand how that would come to be.  Each was there because something about Jesus changed the way they looked at the world.  And now, here he was, both fulfilling their expectations – he was willing to be their king and make that kingdom a reality – and upsetting them at the same time…where the heck was he going to get the fire power he needed to take the throne – the necessary first step to change the world in which they lived?

That’s how it is with Jesus, isn’t it?  People were always both hearing and loving what he said, but not understanding a lot of it.  There was genuine confusion, and at times willful misunderstanding.  Depending on who you were, you had a different idea about who Jesus was:  prophet, shaman, politician, instigator, spiritual leader, friend, traitor. 

But whoever they thought he was, somehow it was enough; because they chose Jesus as the one to celebrate that day – they chose his parade and that choice had risk.  Even in their confusion, probably believing one thing and then another, they chose Jesus, and they were willing, at least on Palm Sunday, to risk their lives for the one to whom they gave all glory, laud and honor.  For them, that day, even as their hopes were being both fulfilled and undermined, they knew Jesus was laudable. 

The multitude of disciples.  That’s what we are, right?  We are the multitude of disciples; many, diverse, human beings who know Jesus in different ways and follow him for different reasons.  We’re the crowd.  And we show up on Palm Sunday and we sing loudly, “All Glory Laud and Honor, to you O Christ we sing.”  We “hail the power of Jesus’ name,” and “crown him Lord of all.”  We call him king – boldly, loudly, in great celebration.  Waving branches, with in symbolic parade.

But do we get it?  Do we know that this is the anti-king?  Do we know the risk involved in hailing this one?  Does our pomp match the humility Jesus took on?  Does our joy reflect the reality Jesus faced?  Do we forget that Jesus will never sit on the throne?  He will never have soldiers, wealth, power, dominion.  When we hail Jesus as king, what are we thinking?  In other words, why are we here?

The answer is different for each of us.  Our answers will differ from our neighbors, and our answer will be different at different points in our lives.  In part, because it’s still a little confusing.  Is it appropriate to celebrate unabashedly on Palm Sunday – to call Jesus King with such zeal – or does it make us look ridiculous because we have no clue what we are saying, and the fate we are sealing for Jesus?  Do we sing because we get it?  Or because we still think Jesus is something he is not.

Regardless, we are here.  We do celebrate.  We know there is something laudable here…we do see there is something different:  this is the king of peace…like no other king we have known.  We are the crowd, present that day waving branches, singing to our king, sending him in to Jerusalem to an inevitable battle that would risk his life.  Given the confusion, the irony, the risk, the understanding and lack thereof, it’s a good time to ask:  Why are we here waving Palms today?

Jesus symbolizes different things for us.  When we read the scriptures, we hear different messages, get different pictures of Jesus.  We don’t know who was in the crowd that day, but I think it’s safe to say they weren’t all there for the same reason, and neither are we all here for the same reason.  When we sing, “Hosanna in the highest.  Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” it means something different to each one of us here today, and that’s okay.  We don’t need all the answers to be here.  Whatever our reason is, it’s good enough that we’re here.

Some of us, like the lame, are here because we yearn to be healed.

Some of us, like the poor, are tired – oh so tired – of the same old parades where we are forced to bow before the ones that crush us and treat us like animals.

Some of us, like the widows, are looking for a community that will care for us when we can’t care for ourselves.

Some of us, like the aged, are here to learn how to die and live to see the other side.

Some of us, like the marginalized, see in the way of Jesus a world where all are fully included.

Some of us, like the curious, just want to see what all the fuss is about.

Some of us, like the disciples, want Jesus to be the Messiah that replaces a ruthless king; the messiah that lives and takes the throne from Herod.

Some of us, like dissidents, want Jesus to stir up trouble, incite the masses and bring Herod down.

Some of us, like the bystanders, have seen things happen because of Jesus we never thought were possible and we’re waiting to see what’s next.

Some of us, like Mary of Bethany, are here because we know the cross is the only way to resurrection.

Some of us, like the Pharisees, are here, want to follow Jesus, but just wish it would all be a little less loud so it doesn’t evoke the ire and stares of others.

Those are all the right reasons to be here.  Those are all the wrong reasons to be here.  Each of us gets it – Jesus is the one we must call king.  Each of us misunderstands what it means to call Jesus “king,” and how high the stakes are.

To be clear, no one is better than the other.  I mean, let’s face it, if we are anything like the story in the scriptures, really none of us follows Jesus all the way to the cross.  All of us turn back at some point disappointed that it didn’t turn out like we expected.  No matter what, when we sing these festive songs, we both get it right and woefully miss the mark.  When we call Jesus, “king,” we’re both dead on, and foolishly wrong.

When we call Jesus king, too often we forget that he is the anti-king riding into Jerusalem to disappoint all of our expectations.  When we show up at the parade, we find what we’re looking for, then lose it again.  We are too joyful, forgetting the slaughter that inevitably awaits, and we are not joyful enough, forgetting the truth that the world is truly changed when service and humility are embraced more than power.  On Palm Sunday we know that Easter is coming, yet too often we think we’ve already arrived and the death in between has no meaning.  On Palm Sunday we rightly tell the world that Easter has arrived because ultimately death has no meaning against a new world order.  We get it right, we get it wrong.  But we show up.  We know the stakes are high.  Like the people that day, we choose the right parade.  We know, even if the reasons elude us from time to time, that Jesus is laudable. 

And in that, my friends, we are the stones.  We are the ones shouting out when others in the world are trying to silence this parade in favor of the parade for King Herod.  Even though we may not know why we sing, why we shout hosanna, we do so and people take notice.

Maybe deep in our hearts we want a different ending.  Maybe I want Jesus on a throne – a glorious one.  Maybe we want resurrection without the cross.  Maybe we’ll follow him, maybe we won’t.  Maybe we get it, maybe we don’t.  Maybe we’ll go part way, then try again another day.

But we sing:  we laud.  And so finally, we are all the stones.  This is not a simple song – this is not a fun parade without danger and risk.  And always we should sing and shout with humility knowing that when we call Jesus king, we both get it and don’t.  Bur our reasons for showing up, each of us, they’re good enough – because we’re here.  We’re willing to walk through this next week with Jesus – watch him die on a cross, and in that, somehow, find resurrection.

Confession:

Maybe we can get a taste of that day in our Palm Sunday worship:  As we sing our parade hymns today, as we choose to laud Jesus as king, hail the power of Jesus’ name, what do we feel today.  We will, with words, crown him as king – as Lord of all…over and over we’ll sing, “and crown him lord of all.”  What do those words feel like coming out of your mouth?  Should they feel awkward?  When we sing them, are we thinking of a colt?  Are we singing from a place deep inside because Jesus has touched our lives and we see him alone as our ruler?  Are we aware that our accolades send him to certain death?  Are we aware that we are not just at a party, but a pre-funeral wake?  Are we aware that his kingship does not solve all our problems?  Are we uncomfortable with even saying king because we don’t want him to have power over our lives in any way?  Do we resist, or sing unabashedly?  We get the chance to be in that crowd that day and see where we sit – where we are as we go into Holy Week. 

It’s confession:  It is naming truth.  And it is recognition that no matter what we write, we will not get it right – there is no expectation of that.  But Jesus rides on, and we have chosen the right parade.  We’re here, we are modern day stones when we sing.  We are crying out, come join this parade with us – the anti-king is surely the way to go.