Scripture readings: OT: Isaiah 44:24, 27, 28; 45:11-13. NT: Mark 11:1-11
The way I imagine it,
Jesus and hundreds of other people are up before sunrise. Palm trees
stand silhouetted against the brightening sky. People blow on their
hands in the morning chill. The crowd is excited and nervous. Rumors
have it that the political elite in Jerusalem are planning to
eliminate Jesus. There are also rumors that this Passover, in
Jerusalem, Jesus will declare himself king.
Barely outside the city
gates the parade is interrupted by an insistent, plaintive cry,
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. Jesus, Son of David, have
mercy on me.” It’s Bartimaeus, a blind beggar. The crowd tries to
shush him, but he keeps shouting until Jesus orders his disciples to
go find him. Jesus heals the man and he joins the parade marching
toward Jerusalem.
The road from Jericho to
Jerusalem went up a canyon. It was long and hot. In the afternoon,
the crowd crowns the hill above Jerusalem. Jesus stops and they gave
over the grand view of the Holy City spread out below them. Jesus
told a couple of his disciples, “Go into the village just ahead of
us. Right as you enter the village, you’ll find a colt tied in the
street. No one has ever ridden it.
“Untie the colt and
bring it here. Oh, and if anyone asks you what you are doing, just
tell them the Lord needs it and will send it back shortly.”
So the disciples headed
off toward the village. They found the colt tied up just like Jesus
had described. The bystanders challenged them, just as Jesus had
predicted. The disciples answered the way Jesus had told them to. The
bystanders let them take the donkey.
Back to the hill crest
where Jesus sat surrounded by the crowd. They threw their cloaks over
the donkey. Jesus climbed on and the parade poured down the hill
toward Jerusalem. It was the same people who had been walking with
Jesus all the way from Jericho, but the crowd was different. Trudging
up the long canyon they had been pilgrims. Now they were the
entourage of a king. There was electricity in the air.
They spread their cloaks
in the road to make a carpet for their king. They cut branches from
trees and spread them in the road. I'm sure you've seen pictures of
the crowd waving palm fronds in the air. Dancing. Singing. Ecstatic.
Joyous. Shouting,
Hosanna!
Blessed
is he who comes in the name of the lord!
Blessed
is the coming kingdom of our father David!
Hosanna
in the highest.
The
Gospel of Luke reports that the authorities tried to get Jesus
to shut the parade down. Don’t you hear what the people are
saying? They asked.
“Oh yes, I hear them.”
Jesus answered. “And if I quiet them, the very rocks will begin
shouting.”
One can suppress the
truth for only so long.
The grand parade
continues on toward Jerusalem. In the couple of miles between the
tiny village of Bethphage and the gates of Jerusalem, the parade
picks up more people. The excitement grows. Jesus rides through the
city gates and keeps on moving. He rides straight to the temple.
There he dismounts and sweeps into the courtyard with hundreds,
perhaps thousands of people. The vast temple court is filled with
people and animals. It's Passover. Half the world is there.
Jesus stops and surveys
the scene. He listens to the baaing of sheep and the mooing of cows,
the haggling of animal merchants, the strident voices of money
changers. Jesus He knows poor people from all over the Mediterranean
world have come here to worship. People from what is today Spain and
Lybia, France, Egypt and Italy, Lebanon, Iran, Iraq, Turkey–people
from everywhere come here to worship. It is the trip of a lifetime,
the ultimate expression of their devotion to God and their hope. And
here, Jesus sees their devout dreams sullied, cynically manipulated.
Jesus sees poor pilgrims getting ripped off in the temple courtyard.
Jesus' entrance with an
entourage of hundreds or thousands created a stir. And as he stands
surveying the scene, the commotion quiets a bit. People stare.
Abruptly, Jesus shouts, “God has said, 'My house is to be called a
house of prayer for all nations, but you have made it a den of
thieves.'” He immediately launches into the crowded court, tipping
over tables. Shouting, “Be gone!” Coins clatter across the
pavement. He opens gates on pens. Goats begin scampering through the
crowd. Cows bulldoze their way across the sea of humanity. I’m sure
by now he’s shouting, the disciples following his lead, waving
their arms and shooing the sheep and cows and goats toward the exits.
More tables are flipped. More coins clatter on the pavement. The
dealers and sellers begin hollering. Panic and pandemonium spread.
People and animals charging for the exits before the terrifying wrath
of Jesus. It's wonderful.
12
And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that
sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the
moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, 13 And said
unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of
prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves. 14 And the blind and
the lame came to him in the temple; and he healed them. 15 And when
the chief priests and scribes saw the wonderful things that he did,
and the children crying in the temple, and saying, Hosanna to the Son
of David; they were sore displeased, 16 And said unto him, Hearest
thou what these say? And Jesus saith unto them, Yea; have ye never
read, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected
praise? (Matthew 21:12-16 KJV, accessed through BlueLetterBible.org)
Then it's quiet. Jesus'
followers are astonished. Did Jesus just do what they saw him do? New
sound begins to fill the place. It's the sound of kids running toward
Jesus, laughing and shouting. The wrath of the Lamb does not scare
them. It merely creates space for them to be free. It is another rich
picture of Jesus, Christ the King.
On an entirely different note: Karin
and I were hiking this week in a park near our house. It's a place
she likes to ride her horse with her girlfriends. Karin told me some
organization is building a couple of new trails in the park. Late in
our hike we came to where a new trail took off to the right and
crossed a creek. Karin enthusiastically called my attention to this
new trail and especially to the nearly-completed new bridge across
the creek. She told me how eager she was to explore that trail and
see where it went.
I listened dutifully, but my mind had
already been captured by an entirely different picture. On the far
side of the bridge was a small excavator.
I told Karin I wanted one of those. If
I had an excavator like that I could build all sorts of trails. I
freely acknowledge that this Bobcat excavator was not the highlight
of our hike. It is not the preeminent scenic wonder of O'Grady Park.
But some of you, especially some of you guys, will understand why, for at least a few minutes, the wild land wonders were eclipsed by my
fascination with a digging machine.
In the story of the Triumphal Entry,
Jesus is the obvious center of attention. The writer is focused on
Jesus. During the parade, the crowds spreading garments in the road
and waving palm branches were ecstatic about Jesus. When Jesus drives
the moneychangers and merchants from the temple courtyard, Jesus is
the hero. Then at the end of the story, when children come flooding
into the temple court, they come because Jesus is there. He is the
grand, beautiful, eye-catching center of the story. But this week as
I thought about this story, I found my attention riveted on the
donkey.
The whole story falls apart if there
is no donkey. Jesus can't walk into Jerusalem, not if this is
supposed to be a regal entrance. He has to ride. There was an ancient
prophecy that described the Messiah riding a donkey, so it had to be
a donkey, not horse, not an ox cart, not a sedan chair. They couldn't
have the parade without the donkey.
The donkey shows up, Jesus mounts up
and the parade begins. The crowd goes crazy with excitement and
enthusiasm. It is the happiest day of their lives. And it required a
donkey.
We are donkeys of the Christ. The
central conviction of Christianity is that God was and is in Christ
working for the healing and happiness of the world. Our calling is to
serve as the donkeys of Christ. We are charged with making Christ
present.
What is the point of this beautiful
building? To provide access to God. Of course, we don't imagine God
is only present here, or that we have any kind of monopoly on God.
But we are donkeys of the Christ in this neighborhood. This beautiful
building, our elegant music, our carefully planned liturgy are
vehicles for the presence of God. They are donkeys of the Christ.
I like the idea of our building and
worship serving as donkeys of the Christ. It affirms our efforts, our
endeavors, play a vital role in the work of God. What we do here
does, indeed, provide a special service on behalf of God.
Those who give money—you are acting
as agents of the kingdom of heaven, helping to put on the grand
parade.
Musicians—the parade would not even
get out of the parking lot without you. Many of us experience our
most intense connection with God through your gifts.
Sound crew and video crew. As persons
you are nearly invisible. And every worship service is utterly
dependent on your skillful, generous service.
Deacons.
Associate pastors
Cooks.
Decorators.
Painters. Have you
noticed the bright new look of our walls?
Sabbath School
teachers.
Craft makers.
Money counters.
Money managers.
Your work makes
Jesus visible and present. You are donkeys of the Christ.
But this picture of us as donkeys of the Christ is like one of those
magic pictures where you see two different pictures depending on the
angle. As Christ's donkeys we are indispensable agents of
the kingdom of heaven. Yes. But about the time we get cocky and full
of ourselves, someone might point out that no matter how grand the
parade, no matter how august the personage riding the donkey at the
center of the parade, the donkey is still—well—still a donkey. When we put in a lot of effort to be
the very best donkeys in the world, sometimes we might forget we are
still mere donkeys. The point of the parade is to make Christ
present, not to show case the donkey. So let's not get cocky or
conceited. We're doing good work, important work, but let's beware of
the danger of forgetting that our significance arises from our
participation in something larger, grander than ourselves. The parade
owns us. We do not own the parade.
On that afternoon, about two millennia
ago, Jesus rode on a donkey in a grand parade, declaring in the most
public way his conviction that goodness would ultimately triumph. He
invited the crowds watching to join him, to shout hallelujah. As they
did so, as they joined the celebration, they were joining God's grand
project to bend the arc of history toward justice and righteousness.
Today, at the heart of our community,
our worship, our building, our religion is our buoyant and stubborn
confidence that ultimately, Jesus will triumph. Goodness will rule.
Our hope and our commitment deserve a glorious party.
Hallelujah.
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