Two Stories

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday Arpil 5, 2009, the 6th Sunday in Lent, also known as Palm Sunday.

Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Philippians 2:5-11
Mark 11:1-11, 15:1-41

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

As you all know, if there is a reading or interpretation of scripture that is a touch off of the ordinary, I’m going to take a look at it. This week’s reading from Jesus’ Triumphant Entry into Jerusalem is no exception. You would think that after nearly 2,000 years of interpretation that this story, found in all four gospels, would be milked for all it’s worth; but this is not the case. In a new commentary, one of this story’s major details has been reinterpreted.

Reading this piece, we know that Jesus comes into Jerusalem from the road that comes from Bethany and Bethphage. We know that Jesus comes to town on the back of a colt that has never been ridden. We know that the apostles have put their cloaks on the back of the colt. We know that Jesus and the apostles come into town as a part of a great procession who have come for the Passover festival. We know that many people spread their cloaks on the road and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields.

This is where it gets interesting.

When we read this, we assume that all of the pomp and revelry is in the name of the Lord Jesus. The people scream out “Hosanna! Blessed is the one that comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” We know that the people rejoice because they are in the presence of God on earth. Right?

Well, maybe not.

James D. Ernest offers another view. He writes that strewing the way with greenery is not an unusual welcome for pilgrims processing into town for major feasts.[1] The words of the crowd, the “hosanna” and “blessed is the coming kingdom” are words that could have been used at any Passover procession. These words from Psalm 118[2] that were used in today’s Call to Worship were used for many holy festivals, this one is no different. What we think of as special, dedicated to Jesus, was not specific to this celebration at all. These two events in particular could have been common for any Passover celebration.

So while the apostles and the disciples were heralding the coming of the kingdom, everyone else was in the revelry of the Passover alone. That’s a twist, isn’t it? Imagine the Passover procession coming into town like a carnival. Imagine the dancing and revelry, and in the midst of this comes a man on the back of a colt.

To our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters, it’s like the Pontiff riding in the Pope-mobile through the French Quarter on Mardi Gras. Presbyterians? We don’t have anything like it.

But there’s something different happening too. Where these words from Psalm 118 were used for many holy festivals, this one is different. This too is Ernest’s point.[3] This one is different because Jesus has ridden into Bethlehem on the back of a colt. Not only have the apostles put their cloaks on the colt, but many revelers have put their cloaks down over Jesus’ path. This act invokes a royal welcome reserved for the Kings of Israel.[4] While many were too wrapped up in their revelry to notice what was going on, others knew exactly what this act proclaimed in Roman controlled Palestine.

Long before he started drawing “The Simpsons,” Matt Groening created a cartoon called “Life in Hell.” These single panel comics appear in alternative newspapers around the country. One of my favorites is a 1988 panel showing a parade.[5] There are elephants and a band. There are banners flying in the breeze. The crowd is at least six deep on the sidewalk watching the pageantry. But in the lower right hand corner, the last place your eye goes in any illustration, there is a one-eared bunny named Bongo. He’s sitting on the curb and watching a line of ants wander into the crowd.

There are two parades going on in this cartoon. There is the one the crowd is focused on and the other Bongo sees. There is a carnival going past and there is a string of tiny insects headed off to their daily grind. I have always liked this cartoon because it shows me that even in the grandest event, there is always more than one thing happening. This panel shows us that the sight of life’s mundane daily business may be more interesting than a parade.

This is what I see going on in this story, though not as severely as the cartoon. There are two parades going on at the same time. One of them is the parade of the pilgrims entering Jerusalem for the Passover. They are being welcomed by shouts from the crowds. They are walking on the palm leaves just as we did today when we entered the sanctuary.

Then there is the other parade that is even more joyful. This is the parade of those who hear the cries of “Hosanna! Blessed is the one that comes in the name of the Lord! ” and realize that they are living the history that others are only dreaming about. While some people shout “blessed is the coming kingdom” others know they are rejoicing the coming of the King himself.

Some people march into Jerusalem celebrating the coming kingdom of God’s glory; others are living in the new kingdom as God’s glory comes into town. There are two different parades and those who have come for the Passover alone don’t know what Paul Harvey called “the rest of the story.”

Robert Frost wrote the poem “The Road Not Taken,” a verse about a man who reminisces about coming to a fork in the road and considering which one he would take and the way it has shaped his life. It is often seen as an inspirational poem about taking “the road less traveled.” But Frost never intended this interpretation.[6] For Frost, a key line was in the second verse as the traveler concluded:

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

In reality, with all of the talk of the romance of taking “the road less traveled,” in truth both paths are essentially the same. The paths aren’t so different from one another and either path leads to the final destination.

In the final stanza, Frost reveals the irony of the situation of the road, that the mythology of taking “the road less traveled” is one of nostalgia. If there is truly a difference between the paths, it’s that the difference is in our minds shaping how we remember our journey, what was and what could have been.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I want to make a big deal out of the two stories being told in our gospel reading, but in the end, both stories take us to the same ending place, the holiest days of the year to Christians: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday; the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

I have just said that many of those pilgrims and many of the people who lined the way welcoming those pilgrims did not realize they were celebrating Jesus’ Triumphant Entry into Jerusalem. Only after the whole of history had been turned on its ear did they realize they were a part of something extra special.

Robert Frost gloriously tells us whether we are the crowd six deep on the sidewalk celebrating the parade of pilgrims or little Bongo watching the ants is not important because there is no real difference between the two. The difference is only in our memories. Even if the parade does not recognize who Jesus is on Palm Sunday, we know who he is on Easter Sunday.

In a sermon delivered on a Palm Sunday some thirty years ago, Kurt Vonnegut said you can leave it to a crowd to look to the wrong end of a miracle.[7] This morning, I prefer Robert Frost who tells us that the crowd will find the miracle regardless of the choices made. This could even be a shadow of grace. Still, it is necessary that we recognize the right end of this miracle.

In a few moments, we will say these words, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” We have two choices of how we say it, two choices about who “the one” is. The first choice is that we are the one, individually and as the church. Blessed are we who come and partake of the Lord’s Supper. The other is to rejoice that Jesus is the one. He is the one who has come in the name of the Lord entering Jerusalem triumphantly.

What is our choice, let us celebrate both. We come in joy in the name of the one who is able to more than we could ever hope or imagine. That’s worth celebrating.

[1] Ernest, James D. Feasting on the Word. Year B, Volume 2. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008, page 157.
[2] Psalm 118:26ff.
[3] Ibid, Ernest.
[4] 2Kings 9:13
[5] Groening, Matt, Childhood Is Hell. New York: Pantheon Books, a division of Random House, 1988, page 30.
[6] The Road Not Taken (Poem), http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken_(poem), retrieved April 4, 2009.
[7] Vonnegut, Kurt, Palm Sunday. New York: Delacorte Press, 1981.