Palm Sunday Message; Mark 11:1-11

Rev. George Miller
March 29, 2015
Mark 11:1-11

(This character sermon was 1st given in 2015, yet feels timely. This is the rebooted version with some changes made.)

The weather’s been grey for the past few days, unsure of what it wants to do. Dark and cloudy, with hints of rain.

Seems about right.

It’s like the world is ready for some thing; as if the old is dying to make room for the new.

Whatever it is, it’s got to be better that what we have now.

Things have been dreary; blah.

Tired of work. Tired of earning just enough for my daily bread. Tired of paying all these dang taxes.

Tired of being tired.

We could us a holiday. A celebration.

Thankfully, Passover is here.

That’s the time we gather with family and friends to remember how God heard our cries; how God sent us Moses and Miriam so we could be free.

Free from Egypt; free to cross the Red Sea; free to be something more.

Passover is a time of celebration. Folk we ain’t seen in a while coming back to town to worship at the Temple.

We sing songs, tell stories, eat good food.

Despite the grey and the current circumstances, we celebrate.

Of course, the news that thousands of us are descending upon the city doesn’t sit well with the Romans; they get a little scared; a little jumpy.

They’ve done their best to beat us down, to take away our voting rights, to unfairly tax us and to find new ways to steal our land.

But I tell you what- Rome may tax our land and tax our home, but Rome cannot own our heart, or own our soul.

We belong to God.

So every Passover, as kinfolk gather, we all wonder if this’ll be the year we’ll finally revolt and say “no more!”

And today, while Pilate entered the city from the west on his pompous steed, another kind of King entered from the east: a man we call Jesus.

Except instead of being a rich governor, Jesus is a poor peasant.

Instead of living in a castle, he sleeps wherever his head can find rest.

Instead of only caring about his cronies, he cares about everyone.

We’ve been hearing about Jesus for a while now; how he’s like no one else.

-He stands up to the religious and political hypocrites. He eats with regular folk, like you and I. He brings healing to all, no matter if they are a servant, a soldier, or a son.

Some say he embodies the wisdom of God. Some say he’s a reflection of God’s Love.

Others say he is the Messiah- the one we’ve all been waiting for to set us free from Rome’s choke-hold.

So when news go out that Jesus and his gang of merry men were coming into town for the Passover, we knew things were gonna get good.

Word was that Jesus was entering from the east, from the Mount of Olives, the place the prophets had written about.

So we gathered to greet him; we gathered to cheer him on. Not the hoity-toitys out to kiss Rome’s butt.

But the regular folk.

Those who worked the land. Those who weren’t afraid to get dirt under their nails.

Those struggling for their daily bread, those struggling with debt, those who were paying high taxes, and those who had mortgaged off their family land.

We gathered to celebrate this man who was going to change our lives forever.

It was a celebration, and ya’ll know what it’s like when people get together for a good time: things just happen, a spark of energy hits the air.

Someone began to sing “Hosanna! Hosanna!”

Another voice joined in signing “Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Someone else sang out “Hosanna! Hosanna! David’s kingdom is near!”

“Hosanna! Hosanna!” they sang out, and it sounded just about right.

“Hosanna” is just a fancy way of saying “Help!”

“Hosanna” is just a way to say “Lord save us!”

That’s what we were singing “Lord-help us! Lord, save us! Hosanna!”

For those living with hunger-“Hosanna!”

For those in unfair debt- “Hosanna!”

For those blind, deaf, lame, and bent over with shame- “Hosanna!”

For those lost in the wilderness, locked up in jail, sick, or sailors whose ships had sunk- “Hosanna!”

“Hosanna! Hosanna” we sang.

Then the celebration really kicked in.

Some took off their coats to place before the animal Jesus was riding.

But I am too poor to even have a coat.
What was I to give?

I’m not a magi able to offer gifts of frankincense and myrrh. I’m not a drummer boy able to supply a song.

I’m not a beautiful woman with long hair that can be used to wash his feet.

I looked to sky for help, and that’s when I saw the palms growing on the tree. How abundant they were.

I thought of how the palms were like me- hearty and able to endure.

They can grow in the extreme heat. They can handle intense rain; they can handle the long, dry spells.

And through it all, they are green, and they are alive!

Green- the color of life.

So I ran onto into the road, in front of Jesus, in front of his colt, and I placed the palm branch down, humbly stating “Hosanna” or “Help.”

Who could have guessed what happened next-

Others just like me- destitute, lost, lonely, afraid- followed suit; they climbed up the trees, they ran into the nearby fields.

They took whatever they could find- grass, straw, leaves, branches, the riches of the land, and we laid all that we had before the Lord.

We sang and we celebrated and for that brief moment we were One¬, with a feeling that anything is possible and the grey skies are gone forever.

…of course no grey sky is ever gone completely.

As Passover week continues, an odd air of uncertainty has appeared.

You know how sometimes you can just tell something’s not right, even if you’re not entirely sure why?

That’s how things have been since Sunday.

After Jesus entered into Jerusalem, there’s been buzzing on the street, and not the good kind.

Some say that Rome is upset with his teachings. Some say our religious leaders ain’t too happy with him.

Some claim that Jesus is unruly; he’s riling the masses and stirring things up.

There’s even whispers that Rome is constructing a cross for Jesus, a sure sign that he’s got them feeling scared.

Jesus isn’t helping matters.

One moment he’s teaching about love, the next he’s shaming the scribes.

One moment he’s pointing out how much people are putting into the offering plate, the next moment he’s telling us the Temple will be destroyed.

That ain’t good.

The other night, a woman came and anointed Jesus just as one would a dead body.

It feels as if the songs of celebration have been silenced.

It’s as if the hosannas have made way to hopelessness.

Ominous clouds are forming; seems a storm is a brewing. Something bad is sure to happen.

What does this all mean? What does the rest of the week hold? How will the events unfold? What’s next?

I don’t know; we don’t know.

Only God knows; only God knows…