Sermon for Sunday, April 13, 2014
RIDE ON KING JESUS
Matthew 21:1-11
1 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of
Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and
immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to
me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, "The Lord needs them.' And he will
send them immediately. " 4 This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the
prophet, saying, 5 "Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble,
and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey." 6 The disciples went and
did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their
cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road,
and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that
went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!"
10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" 11
The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee."
The first thing that I always associate with Palm Sunday is... the donkey. In
Matthew’s retelling of the story it mentions two donkeys, which is probably just a quirky
translation from the hebrew text, but in any event that poor donkey gets to me every time.
At the last church I served, I was a lowly resident pastor, just one of a whole gaggle of
pastors on staff, and really at the bottom of the totem pole. On Palm Sunday every year it
was customary for one of the residents to dress up as a shepherd and parade around the
sanctuary leading the children with their palms, shouting loud hosannas, all the while
holding the tether of a real, live donkey. The donkey’s name was Enright, named fondly
for the former senior minister, and he was pleasant enough. But after church I had to
stand outside with the donkey, under the portico because it was raining that day, and hold
on to Enright as all the children came through between services to pet him. There’s even
a picture floating around somewhere on Facebook that will make that moment live forever,
but talk about things they don’t prepare you for in seminary.
The donkey, though, really is symbolic for much of what Jesus stood for against the
backdrop of Rome, so there is good reason we reign them back into our celebration year
after year. Poet Mary Oliver actually writes a Palm Sunday poem about the donkey, and I
appreciate her retelling of the story from the gospels. This is how she describes the
scene.
On the outskirts of Jerusalem
the donkey waited.
Not especially brave, or filled with understanding, he stood and waited.
How horses, turned out into the meadow, leap with delight!
How doves, released from their cages, clatter away, splashed with sunlight!
But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited. Then he let himself be led away.
Then he let the stranger mount.
Never had he seen such crowds!
And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen. Still, he was what he had
always been: small, dark, obedient.
I hope, finally, he felt brave.
I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him, as he lifted one dusty
hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.
It’s almost as if the donkey knows something is up and yet hasn’t caught all the
details, so he waits, and obediently allows himself to be led away in the crowds, carrying
Jesus and maybe feeling brave, but always, as Oliver writes, “stepping, as he had to,
forward.”
Jesus, on the other hand, leaves Bethphage and enters Jerusalem on that humble
donkey, seemingly with purpose and knowledge of the situation at hand, as he instructs
the disciples and descends into the city. Juxtaposing Jesus are the people gathering in
Jerusalem- crowds of people shouting hosannas and others filled with “turmoil,” as the text
says. Jerusalem had been conquered by Rome when Matthew’s Gospel was written, and
the Jews were, as one author puts it, “chafing under the yoke of Roman rule,” and
“yearning for a messiah who would once-and-for-all restore to Israel the throne of David
and establish God's Kingdom in the land.” Jesus is riding into a city filled with militaristic
Romans and desperate, but hopeful Jews. As he comes down into the streets there are
followers behind him and people in front of him, throwing their cloaks down on the ground
along with giant palm branches. Some are shouting hosannas, but still others are
confused, asking, “who is this?”
This scene strikes me as not quite the entrance any old person would receive, and
yet, certainly not a parade for real royalty. The crowds were calling him the Son of David,
naming him the King of the Jews, but here he was a lowly carpenter on a donkey. I
wonder: how threatening could that really be? I’m reminded, though, that Biblical stories,
while written so long ago, never fail to hit home when I really think about the world we live
in…
In any number of politically volatile countries today, if some rebellious, religious fanatic
hosted his own parade through a town claiming royalty and power, we wouldn’t have to
wait for a trial and public execution because there would immediately be gunshots and
violence. Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was threatening, and it’s no wonder our translation
of this text tells us that some people were in “turmoil.” In fact, the greek word used here,
si-o, is also the root word for seismic, meaning to shake, agitate, cause to tremble, people
who quake from fear. This is what Jesus was walking into. And I bet he was afraid.
In Luke’s Gospel we learn that as Jesus approached Jerusalem, hearing the crowds
yelling hosanna, he wept, knowing what was going to happen. It’s a sobering thought to
know that the one who comes to save, weeps in fear. And yet, Jesus went forward. If he
really did weep he marched ahead with red, puffy eyes, and if he did smile at the crowds, it
was forced- the smile of someone who doesn’t want to take the fun out of the day for other
people.
To be honest, this scene has made me wonder why we celebrate Palm Sunday the
way we do. Growing up this was one of my favorite Sundays of the church year. I loved
waving the palm branches in the air that I would then fidget with in the pew during the
service. I listened with joy to the happy hymns and music that seemed so necessary after
a long and dreary season of Lent. Of course I knew I’d be headed to Maundy Thursday
and Good Friday services later in the week, but, I was always ready for that Palm Sunday
service- eager to soak up the celebration in the air as we remembered Jesus’ triumphant
parade into Jerusalem. But, now that I’m an adult, I realize the severity of this text, and
knowing the reality of the situation at hand, I do wonder why we have come to celebrate it
like this? It seems strange, almost childish to celebrate, when we know what Jesus was
walking in to.
Last year I got an email from a church member around this time, during Holy Week.
It was a question her son had asked her and she didn’t know how to answer. Apparently
he had asked why we call it Good Friday, if Jesus dies? The fact that they were talking
about Holy Week at all impressed me, but what an insightful question. As it turns out
there’s really no satisfactory academic answer. It actually may be that we call it “Good”
because of a bad translation from a German phrase. In fact, Christians elsewhere have
lots of names for Good Friday that seem to make more sense, like “Day of Suffering” or
“Longest Day.” But, it may also be that we call the day that Jesus died, “Good,” because
we know what comes from his death. As Christians, even though we remember and take
account for the brutal death of Jesus, in the back of our minds, and in the depth of our
hearts we know that our faith depends upon the fact that Jesus’ death does not have the
final word. So, even on Friday of Holy Week, we recognize the gift in Christ’s death, and
we call it Good. And, now that I think about it, I would argue that we celebrate Palm
Sunday for much the same reason.
There’s an old Gospel song about Palm Sunday called Ride on King Jesus. I’ve
heard the choir at St. Olaf, my alma mater, sing this song, which has been one of my
favorites over the years. But earlier this week, as I was looking for a slightly more
authentic choral version, I watched a youtube video of a real Gospel choir just get after this
incredible powerful piece of music. And it wasn’t until I saw that video and looked into the
history of this song- that dates back to the days of slavery- that I really began to
understand Palm Sunday. The lyrics of Ride on King Jesus, say:
Ride on King Jesus
No man can -a-hinder me
In that great getting up morning
Fair thee well, fair thee well
In that great getting up morning
King Jesus rides on a milk white horse
No man can a-hinder me.
The river of Jordan He did cross
No man can a-hinder me.
When I get to heaven gonna wear a robe.
Gonna see King Jesus sitting on a throne
Ride on King Jesus
No man can a-hinder me.
One author says this about the song, “‘Ride On King Jesus’ is an African American
Spiritual which places us at the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. In this song, the
singer and the King are joined together on a journey, a journey that is difficult but
continues forward anyway. Notice that the lyrics say ‘no man can a-hinder me’ and not ‘no
man can a-hinder Thee’? Here the singer, even though imposed with a heavy burden, is
riding the horse with Jesus and together they proceed to ultimate victory. Imagine singing
this song as a slave knowing that you are ‘riding’ with Jesus through the difficulties of life.”
Of course, there’s more symbolism as well- the white horse image comes from
Revelation, a sign that God’s kingdom will ultimately come and triumph, but through peace.
And the River Jordan is used here because, in the same way slaves would often cross
through the Ohio or Mississippi Rivers to cut off their trails from bloodhounds chasing them
and swim to free states, Jesus came out of the River Jordan freed in his baptism.
All this is to say, even though on Palm Sunday we understand there is tension and
turmoil as Jesus enters Jerusalem, we celebrate because of what it means for us. In Mary
Oliver’s poem she describes the donkey, “he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had
to, forward.” But, really, I think, she’s talking about Jesus. Jesus kept moving forward, into
the crowd, even in the midst of fear. And because we know what ultimately happens, that
Jesus dies and rises, and conquers death forever, we celebrate that Jesus paraded, head
on, into all the evil of the world, and we shout hosanna, because he did it for our sake.
And that is good news.
As I think about slaves singing “no man can a-hinder me” I am reminded what the
message of Palm Sunday means for those of us who are living in fear- and frankly, I think
we are all, every single one of us, afraid of something. Whether it’s the fear brought on by
a recent diagnosis, the fear of losing a job, of a child not doing well in school, a marriage
falling apart, or the fear that comes with anxiety and mental illness, with Jesus we can face
our fears, or, at least, keep taking those small steps forward, and toward them.
I know there are those of you out there who have some scary things going on, and
I’m sure there are many of you who face hidden turmoil each and every day. And part of
the good news of this day is that Jesus faced it, too. Jesus did not come out of Jerusalem
on Easter morning without the battle wounds. He, too had the scars that we all carry with
us.
And so Palm Sunday, while it’s a mixed bag of emotions, it is also reminds us that
our God triumphs in all the right ways- not by wielding power, but by entering into life with
us. Today Christ shows us that ultimately God will reign, and that love will win, the low will
be lifted high, peace and justice will rule, and all the things we walk in fear of will be behind
us, in the end, if we ride on with King Jesus.
On this high holy day, on Palm Sunday, as we look down the road into Jerusalem,
into Holy Week, let us remember the good news and celebrate. Christ is marching on that
humble donkey into Jerusalem, on his way to death and new life. We can go with him, or
after him, but thanks be to God we know he goes ahead of us, leading us forward. Ride
on King Jesus. Amen.