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Palms, Passion, and Patsy

Palm Sunday Sermon

Preached at Midway Hills Christian Church

March 20, 2005

Matthew 21:1-11

 

Typically I don’t care for email jokes that get passed around, but this one came across my computer screen this week and I thought I would share a bit of it with you.

A priest wanted to earn money for his church. He has heard there was money in horse racing, so he decided to purchase a horse and enter it in the races. However, at the local auction the going price for horses was too steep and the Priest ended up buying a donkey. The Priest figured since he had the donkey he might as well enter it in the races. The donkey came in third….The following day in the racing forms the headlines appeared: “Priest’s Ass Shows.”

 

Animals used to be thought of as cheap and disposable props on Hollywood movie sets.  In the early days horses were shocked, tripped, and forced to run into trenches. Wires were strung around their ankles and then yanked by the rider to make the horse fall on cue. Six horses were killed during the filming of Ben-Hur in 1924.

            Since then an organization called “American Humane” has been created to enforce standards for the protection of animals on Hollywood sets.  In the ‘50’s they sponsored the first annual PATSY award ceremony.  PATSY stands for: “Performing Animal Star of the Year” and it is the Academy Award for animal actors. Francis the Mule was the first PATSY winner in 1951, and later winners include Roy Roger’s horse Trigger and Arnold the Pig from Green Acres.  In 1973 an Animal Actor’s Hall of Fame was established and Lassie was the first inductee.

            If the “Performing Animal Top Star of the Year” award had been around in first-century Jerusalem, the animal who carried Jesus into Jerusalem certainly would have been a winner.  This donkey is a PATSY.

            Matthew tells us that Jesus rides two donkeys into Jerusalem, while Mark, Luke and John’s account of the story mentions just one donkey.  All four gospels associate Jesus’ action with the fulfillment of a prophecy in Zechariah:  “Look, your king is coming to you, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of an ass.”  This action of riding into Jerusalem from the east on a donkey or mule and the crowd’s spontaneous action of covering the road with their garments and freshly cut palms was reminiscent of the coronation of previous kings in Israel.  In this prophetic drama the gospel writers want to make sure no one misses the point that Jesus is the long expected Messiah from the house of David.  The triumphal entry and its symbolism served to declare publicly Jesus’ right to the earthly throne of Israel—a right he did not choose to exercise.

            Other than Jesus, who are the leading actors in this prophetic drama that could serve as role models for us this Palm Sunday? The disciples are not particularly good candidates.  Yes, they follow Jesus instructions to get the donkey, and they follow him into Jerusalem, shouting along with the crowd, “Hosanna.”  But just a few verses earlier they had gotten into a big fight about who would be the first in Jesus’ new kingdom.  They still didn’t get it.  And it will be a matter of days before one will betray him, another will deny him, and the remainder will desert him.

            The crowds are not stellar role models either.  They’re curious but not committed.  Their shouts of “Hosanna” will quickly turn to cries of “crucify him.”

            Then there are the religious leaders. They were corrupt, mean-spirited and jealous.  When Lazarus was raised from the dead, they conspired to put him right back in the tomb, because many Jews were deserting and believing in Jesus as a result of that resurrection.

            Finally, we are left with the donkey.  This PATSY, this top performer can teach us a lot about Palm Sunday, because she is the creature who carries Christ into the world.  This donkey was a Christ bearer and her example causes us to pause and consider what that might mean for our lives:

Being a Christ bearer means we follow Jesus through the portal of Palm Sunday into all of Holy Week, which includes not just the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, but the betrayal of Maundy Thursday, the pain of Good Friday, and the waiting of Holy Saturday.

            Originally this day was called The Sunday of the Passion and it began with a procession and palms which were only a dramatic prelude to the day. The real focus was on the reading of the passion narrative from the gospels which would then be read again on Good Friday.  Over the years the palms have been separated from the passion. 

We find ourselves, as one writer has said, “Seduced by the palms.”  Being a Christ bearer means we are not seduced by the palms, we follow Christ all the way to the cross, not as a spectator, but in the dying.

            The way we enter into the passion is to enter into the mystery of pain and brokenness—our own and the world’s—to discover we are not alone. Entering into the passion does not mean stoically bearing the burdens of life. It means identifying so completely with others who struggle, just like you, that you voluntarily take on their pain. You are so with them in their pain and struggle that your presence, your solidarity, your being-with, is redemptive. That is the mystery of the cross—the foolishness of the cross, as the Apostle Paul says.

            Thomas Merton has said that while Christ’s physical body was crucified by Pilate and the Pharisees, Christ’s mystical body is drawn and quartered from age to age by the disunion of our souls through selfishness and sin. Merton states, “As long as we are on earth, the love that unites us will bring suffering by our very contact with one another, because this love is the resetting of the body of Broken Bones.”

            I have never had a broken bone, but I understand that in order for the break to heal, for the bone to become one piece again, it has to be reset and that is a painful process. When we are with each other in our suffering out of love, we reset the broken body of Christ.

            This weekend marks the second anniversary of the beginning of the war in Iraq. A recent Sojourner publication indicates: 

Since March 19, 2003, almost 1,500 U.S. soldiers have been killed, and over 10,000 Americans have been wounded, according to the Department of Defense. Almost half of the U.S. military deaths have occurred after the transfer of power on June 29th of last year. Tens of thousands of Iraquis—soldiers and civilians—have lost their lives.

If the Bush Administration’s recent request for 82 billion dollars additional funding is approved, the war with Iraq will have cost almost $210 billion. The current version of the federal budget requires significant cuts and reductions in a number of domestic discretionary programs, many of which involve social services, areas related to education, the environment, medical research, agricultural subsidies, and other areas that affect the daily lives of the middle class and the poor.

            Jerusalem was not a peaceful place at the time of Jesus’ arrival. Just as there were many who recognized Jesus as the chosen one of God, many other detractors criticized him and viewed him to be a threat to the established religious and political order.  Our world today is filled with many conflicts and troubles that mirror belief systems that are contrary to Christian values of justice, mercy, and compassion.

            During this season as we reflect upon the reign of God and the passion of Christ, we are called to be Christ bearers—to find ways of working together so that the values of compassion, justice, and fairness remain at the centerpiece of our decision-making processes.  As people of faith the love and compassion of Jesus the Christ must direct our work together in the public and private spheres of our lives. 

From the first century to the 21st century, the path we walk from Palm Sunday to Good Friday is always fraught with the danger of being seduced by the Palms.

In 1942 no one knew that better than Clarence Jordan, founder of the Koinonia Farm near Americus, Georgia. It was set up to be an interracial community before anyone knew what civil rights were all about. Jordan himself was a pacifist as well as an integrationist and thus was not a popular figure in Georgia, even though he came from a prominent family. The Koinonia Farm, by its very nature, was controversial and, of course, it was in trouble. In the early ’50s Clarence approached his brother Robert Jordan, who later went on to become a state senator and justice of the Georgia Supreme Court, to ask him to represent legally the Koinonia Farm. They were having trouble getting LP gas delivered for heating during the winter even though it was against the law not to deliver gas. Clarence thought Robert could do much through a phone call. However, this is how Robert responded to Clarence’s request:


“Clarence, I can’t do that. You know my political aspirations. Why, if I represented you, I might lose my job, my house, everything I’ve got.”

“We might lose everything, too, Bob.”

“It’s different for you.”

“Why is it different? I remember, it seems to me, that you and I joined the church on the same Sunday, as boys. I expect when we came forward the preacher asked me the same question he did you. He asked me, ‘Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ What did you say?”

“I follow Jesus, Clarence, up to a point.”

“Could that point by any chance be — the cross?”

“That’s right. I follow him to the cross, but not on the cross. I’m not getting myself crucified.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re a disciple. You’re an admirer of Jesus, but not a disciple of his. I think you ought to go back to the church you belong to, and tell them you’re an admirer, not a disciple.”

“Well now, if everyone who felt like I do did that, we wouldn’t have a church, would we?”

“The question,” Clarence said, “is, ‘Do you have a church?’”

 

(Invitation to Discipleship that includes prayer over palm crosses)

I invite you to take the palm crosses you were given as you entered the sanctuary today.

I believe we have a church. A church full of disciples of Jesus, not just admirers of Jesus. For 50 years we have lived in the tension of the Palms and the Passion as we have sought to be Christ bearers in the midst of shouting crowds that want to follow Jesus up to a certain point. For those who are looking for a church home, will you join us as we discern specific ways to live out the gospel in today’s world? Ministers will be here in the front to greet you as you come by transfer of letter or profession of faith.  For those who are currently members, will you recommit to be Christ bearers—PATSYS—wherever that may lead you?

Let us stand together, holding our crosses as we sing the hymn of invitation, #197 Beneath the Cross of Jesus