Joel D. Kline
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
March 20, 2005
Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday is something of a riddle, isn’t it? How is it that Jesus can enter the city of Jerusalem on Sunday, acclaimed a hero by cheering crowds shouting “Hosanna,” while only a few days later this same Jesus faces betrayal, arrest, trial, and a cruel crucifixion? Could it be that the Palm Sunday crowds, while shouting the right words, little grasped the nature of the One about whom they were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” Indeed, one commentator suggests that it is as if the people have all the correct notes, but none of the music!
The decision of Jesus to enter the city was an act that New Testament scholar William Barclay labels “an act of glorious defiance and superlative courage.” For Jesus knew that by this time there was a price on his head, that the threatened religious leaders of the day were plotting his death. And he knew that the Passover season was a time when the people’s messianic fever would run high, and their acclaim of Jesus would only further incite the leaders’ animosity.
The people hoped beyond hope for the coming of a Messiah—the Son of David—who would set things aright in the world. For those Israelites of old, that meant the coming of one who would overthrow the hated Roman oppressors, one who would restore Israel to its former glory. And in the minds of the people, such a restoration would mean placing the tiny state of Israel in a position of prominence above all other peoples. The people ached for a Messiah coming with sword in hand, prepared to destroy pagan rule, and they apparently hoped that Jesus, once in the holy city, would shed his peaceful image and allow the true colors of a Messiah to emerge.
Yet Jesus will have none of it; through word and action, Jesus offers an alternative perspective. While the crowd’s messiah would surely rain vengeance upon the hated oppressors, Jesus comes riding upon a lowly donkey, symbol of a king or ruler coming in peace. While the crowds thirst for blood, Jesus comes, lamenting Jerusalem’s lack of understanding, crying out, “Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace” (Luke 19:42 RSV). While the crowds anticipate a messiah who would wield power over others, Jesus comes, living and proclaiming the power of self-giving love and servanthood.
In his book The Upside-Down Kingdom Donald Kraybill reminds us that the message Jesus proclaimed went against the grain of the prevailing social order; it stood in marked contrast to the customary ways of thinking and acting in Jesus’ day—and, truth be told, it continues to stand in opposition to many of our own patterns and convictions about life. Over and over again Jesus turns cherished notions upside down, holding before us a new vision of what it means to choose the way of life over death, to choose courage in place of caution, to embrace relationships rather than separation, to opt for light above darkness and hope in place of despair.
And Jesus comes, turning upside down our customary ways of considering success. You and I live in a culture enamored with success—success being defined as making a name for ourselves, getting ahead in life regardless of the cost to others or to ourselves. But along comes Jesus, asserting that “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:25). And then Jesus questions, “For what will it profit us if we gain the whole world but forfeit our souls?” (16:26, adapted).
A similar conviction stands behind the powerful words of the apostle Paul, recorded in the letter to the Philippians, in which he challenges us, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (v. 5). The apostle shares a poem or a hymn, perhaps one Paul has written himself, or perhaps a hymn that was being circulated in the early church, written by an even earlier Christian writer. Whatever the case, it is a remarkably rich statement about the self-giving manner in which Jesus incarnates the love of God. It is a declaration of Jesus emptying himself and taking the form of a servant. In a world that equates success with power over others, it is an odd statement indeed!
Tom Wright, in his commentary Paul for Everyone reminds us that when people in the ancient Greek world thought of heroic leaders, they generally looked to the example of Alexander the Great, who at the age of twenty succeeded his father Philip to the throne and who set himself to the task of conquering the rest of the world. By the time Alexander died at the age of thirty-three he had succeeded in that goal to such an extent that many regarded him as divine. In the apostle Paul’s time a close equivalent to Alexander was the emperor Augustus, who had put an end to the long-running Roman civil war and who had brought relative peace to the whole known world of the day. Caesar Augustus, too, came to be viewed as divine, and was heralded as lord and savior of the Roman world.
Only when we grasp this historical perspective, asserts Tom Wright, “do we see just how deeply subversive, how utterly counter-cultural, was Paul’s gospel message concerning Jesus of Nazareth, whose resurrection had declared him to be Israel’s Messiah and the world’s true Lord.” Jesus himself chided the disciples who were jockeying for key positions in the kingdom of God and arguing over who was the greatest,
You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Matthew 20:25-28).
To display the mind of Christ, asserts the apostle Paul, is to take on this alternative notion of power. It is to let go of selfish ambition, to recognize that genuine life-changing power comes not from power over others, but from embodying Christ’s model of self-giving love and compassion. Indeed, this is the message Jesus seeks to communicate as he enters the city of Jerusalem, that life is not to be found in the hoarding and the scrapping, nor in the scratching to get ahead, but in living—as did Jesus himself—for the glory of God and the good of one’s neighbors.
Perhaps you remember the children’s story of The Velveteen Rabbit. Among the characters the rabbit encounters in the nursery is an old skin horse:
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understood all about it.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came in to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” the Rabbit asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
In a world enamored with success, the perspective of the Skin Horse seems strangely out of place. And when we’re honest, might not the same be said of the Christian faith, which calls us to focus far more on the pathway of faithfulness than that of worldly success. Faithfulness, which demands that we put aside selfish agendas and embrace the very heart and passion of God, is the willingness to share compassion and grace, mercy and peace, righteousness and loving-kindness.
Some years ago United Methodist pastor Robert Raines wrote a book entitled Success is a Moving Target, in which he makes the assertion:
Biblically speaking, a successful congregation is one which evokes in its people a compassion for suffering humanity and the courage to do something about it. It is a congregation in which the spirit is alive, opening the eyes of the heart, to see and feel the hurt of humanity. It is a congregation that undertakes the same liberating mission that was at the core of Jesus’ lifework.
What might it look like if the church today were to embrace wholeheartedly this understanding of mission, that our primary call is to reflect the compassionate spirit of Christ in all we say and do? What might be the shape of our life and ministry together if we were fully to heed the admonition of Paul to “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not count equality with God as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself and became obedient unto death—
even death on a cross (Philippians 2:6-8).
Sisters and brothers, do we not continue to marvel at the strength and courage and obedience that held Jesus to the course, while ever before him loomed the cross? It is a model that places before us the challenge—to choose the pathway of faithfulness, to embrace the example of Jesus and that remarkable love that will not let us go. Are we willing to let go of our self-centeredness and our fears? Are we willing to become real, to take the risk of choosing a new definition of success—becoming a community of compassion, opening the eyes of the heart to suffering humanity, living and proclaiming the liberating message that in Christ there is life, in Christ there is peace and purposeful living, in Christ there is hope. May it be so for us, this day and all our days. Amen.
Scriptural Call to Prayer: “Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly” (Matthew 11:28-30, The Message).
Lord Jesus Christ, you who lived in the unforced rhythms of grace, you who courageously entered the city of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, knowing full well the dangers that lay ahead, you who lived lightly and freely even in the face of resistance and opposition, we come seeking your mind, your heart, your spirit. We come, yearning to know the unforced rhythms of grace. We come, aching for the strength of spirit that enables us to walk in your footsteps, to embrace the path of obedience, not out of duty and obligation but out of joy, knowing that you are the Christ and we are your people.
Thanks be to you, O God, for the incredible love you shower upon us through the gift of Jesus. We marvel at Christ’s courage and strength of character, and pray that we might keep company with Jesus, learning to live freely and lightly even in the face of danger and uncertainty.
Holy God, hear our prayers for peace. On this weekend when many are remembering the beginning of bombing in Iraq two years ago, we confess how elusive are the ways of peace. And we confess that we do not always know how to be your peacemakers in a troubled and divided world. Yet we come this day, praying wholeheartedly for peace and for the coming of that day when justice prevails on earth, when swords are beaten into plowshares, when all creation shall see your glory, O God, and walk in paths of obedience, celebrating that you are our God and we are your people.
O Lord of all of life, we place in your hands those in special need of your healing touch. We pray for . . . .
Thanks be to you, O God, for the assurance that you stand with us in all the changing experiences of life—in both the struggles and during those times when we are aware of the unforced rhythms of grace. Thank you, God, for the promise that nothing in life or even in death can separate us from your love in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.