s ih T sI oh W

“Who Is This?”
Matthew 21:1-11
March 29, 2015
Barbara Retzloff
Jack Wisdom wrote a little book on humility called, “Get Low” and he begins it
with this story…he writes:
“My family owns a few acres near Hearne, the self-proclaimed ‘crossroads of
Texas.’ Hearne has three Tex-Mex restaurants, two grocery stores, two dollarstyle discount stores, two barbeque joints, two auto part stores, and one bridge
that spans railroad tracks and Highway 6. A few years ago, some visionary
entrepreneur opened a sports bar in the middle of town. It is not exactly the
ESPN Zone, but it seems to be a relatively successful venture. The sports bar
serves as a refuge for men. Every Saturday and Sunday during football season,
the parking lot is packed with dozens of pick-up trucks and one very old riding
lawn mower. Many nights I see the same gentleman wearing a sharp gold
blazer and driving his riding lawn mower over the bridge toward the sports bar.
He probably does it because he likes sports and/or bars, does not like walking,
and does not mind looking ridiculous if that is what it takes to accomplish his
mission. Every time I see that fellow on the lawn mower heading into the heart of
Hearne, I think about the so-called triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.”1
Like a predictable small town, a sports bar and the draw of football, the scene in
our scripture today is familiar to most of us…many of us have heard it all our
lives, we have carried our palm branches in here year after year, and sang our
hosannas. But this event of the coming of the king, predicted by the prophet
Zechariah, was anything but common place. An ordinary king would have
ridden in proudly on a war horse, leading his troops in a victory procession, and
there would have been heralds and trumpeters announcing his coming. The
spreading of garments on the road would be a special gesture and a sign of
loyalty to the king and the waving of palm branches would have brought
memories of the victorious military leader, Judas Maccabaeus, as he was
welcomed by the crowds, marking the beginning of a royal dynasty that lasted
over a hundred years. The shouts of Hosanna were a cry for an earthly king to
reign and bring salvation. And of course, the cries to the Son of David echoed
the hopes in the hearts of the Jews for the return to the glory days of King David
and the end of oppression. This parade would be like our rolling out the red
carpet for a very important figure in whom there were great expectations.
But Jesus was no ordinary king. He knows that by entering Jerusalem, it is not
the beginning of his earthly reign but the final chapter of his life on earth. He
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Jack Wisdom. Get Low: Reflections on Pride and Humility (Houston: Whitecaps Media, 2008), 1-2.
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was coming not to be enthroned like Judas Maccabaeus or David, but to be
killed. There was no pomp and circumstance for a famous military leader, just a
humble man on a lowly donkey, a ‘beast of burden’ it’s called; a work animal,
not even well-bred, and one which depicted not strength and victory, but nonviolence and peace. Even the shouts, Hosanna to the Son of David, or literally,
God save the Son of David…didn’t come to pass…God didn’t save the life of
the Son of David…at least not as expected. Everything that day should have
been predictable but nothing that day was predictable. Kind-of like seeing a
riding lawn mower in a sea of pickup trucks in a good ole’ boy small Texas town.
So why would we expect anything this week to be predictable?
There are two groups of people in this passage: the crowd and the city. The
crowd that day was waving palm branches and shouting hosanna….it was
probably made up of Jesus’ disciples and others who had followed him the last
three years…like the blind man who had received his sight, ones who had been
set free from incurable disease, others who had seen five loaves and two fish
feed the multitude, maybe some who had heard teachings on prayer and
forgiveness, and some whose children had been blessed by Jesus. That was the
crowd.
Those in the city were strangers, the doubtful, unknowing, even adversaries…no
wonder they watched the parade and asked, “Who is this?” And it was the
crowd, the faithful ones, the ones who have seen, who replied, “This is the
prophet Jesus from Nazareth”. How ironic that those who have seen and been
touched and have known him don’t get it right…he was a prophet but was so
much more, he was the Messiah. And those in the city, were stirred up, moved,
in turmoil….literally agitated as in an earthquake… they knew something big
was up. Those we think should know, don’t get it right, those who don’t know,
quake at his arrival. And the question lingers, “Who is this?” because neither
group really knows.
So why would we expect to know who he is as we follow him into this Holy
Week?
Today is a day of hosannas…next Sunday is a day of alleluias….but we aren’t
there yet. There is a week before us and it is filled with denial and betrayal and
death, but it is week that represents the earth shaking, life changing, world
renewing turning point of all of history, the watershed moment in the life of the
world…it is the week that marks the journey of a humble man that changed
everything. The invitation today is to walk into this week with that question on our
lips, “Who is this?” It is not a simple question… it takes courage, humility, and
grace to let go of our predictable expectations and be open to the ways that
God will show us Jesus.
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Easter Poem
(anonymous)
Do not remind me
Lord do not help me to remember
that which i have heard so often
because reminding me would soften the wonder.
instead help me see it afresh
like i have never seen it before
let me look at it for the first time
not forewarned about the next part
Help me believe that he might not die
that the disciples might rescue him
that Pilate might be strong
that the crowds might shout "crucify Barabbas".
let me hear the hammer come down
let me hear the sound of nail through flesh
let me hear the cry of pain
let me sense the distress
let me watch as they put the cross in the ground
Let me look on his face contorted with pain
ugly with the agony and the torture
let me see the sky go black
let me hear him cry
"Father forgive them…it is finished"
Let me watch as they carry him off dead.
surely dead and without hope of recovery.
let me feel that despair, that loss, that tragedy.
let me weep and mourn
for hope that's murdered
and dreams that lie in a tomb.
Then Lord, without reminding me
without indication of the wonder
take me to that tomb
let me be surprised and confused
at the stone rolled away
let me be angry at the thought of his body stolen
let me go inside to look, to seek some clue
and then let me turn to see him
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let me not believe it for a moment
And then give me the full hurricane force of belief
let me jump and shout and scream for joy
let my heart leap and my soul go running off to highest heaven
do not remind me but let me experience it for the first time
sin forgiven, redemption bought, freedom won
the amazing wonder of the gospel that calls me a child of God
no Lord do not remind me
show me for the first time and let it change my life.
I was on Beltway 8 not long ago and there was something in the road up ahead
of me. As I came upon it, I knew that shape and color all too well…they were
palm branches. The same kind we wove today were spread across two or three
lanes. I smiled to myself and thought, “Well, how ‘bout that, Jesus has been
here.”
What if we left this place today and entered this week watching for evidence of
Jesus’ presence, opening ourselves to the possibility of the unpredictable and
the possibility that Jesus will reveal himself in new ways.
On Thursday, we will come to this table set with bread and cup. What if we
invited Jesus to every table we came around this week? What if we let every
table be a place of deep communion, of remembrance, of thanksgiving, of
spiritual nourishment? I remember the way Catherine and Alastair Rundle
cherished table moments with their neighbors and friends. Once while having
dinner at their apartment with some of their neighbors over in Knight’s Landing,
we sat down, gave thanks, and then started passing around the dishes full of
vegetables, meat, and pasta. When everyone was served, Catherine invited us
to carefully look under our plates. There we found an index-sized piece of
paper with a question on it…tell about your favorite childhood hiding place?
What is your favorite outdoor game and why? Tell us about a
grandmother/grandfather type person in your life. Each question
different…each question a chance to connect with the others in a way that
may not have happened otherwise. Men, women, and children; black and
white…one after another shared…and we all leaned in and really listened to
each other and we were all spiritually nourished. Jesus was there. It was
communion with loved ones and strangers….I think palm branches paved the
road to their home that day. If we let every table be such a place, wouldn’t we
come to this table on Thursday evening with a deeper sense of what it is to be in
communion with our Lord and with each other?
And I have seen those palm branches in some of the rooms around here. My
Wednesday Bible Study gathered in a circle last week and one person after
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another shared of struggle in their lives. There was a depth of honest love and
caring in that room that could be felt. Afterward as we said our good-byes and
the room emptied, I looked around and I knew…”Jesus had been here.” And I
have watched groups of three, four or more gather to knit prayer shawls. They
teach each other, share stories, laugh, and have a great time together. Then I
have watched ones in tough places receive those shawls with tears, smiles,
hugs, knowing they are prayed for by a church that loves them. Last week, I
walked into a Sunday School class that was in the midst of sharing prayer
concerns…you could hear a pin drop. The loving attention was palpable. Jesus
was there. These stories and so many others find a new and deeper place in our
hearts when we stand at the foot of the cross and hear Jesus say to John,
“Behold your mother” and to Mary, “Behold your son.” Neither is really true…but
Jesus makes it so…we belong to one another, we are called to care for one
another.
Our Presbytery met last week just four days after the marriage amendment
passed. Some were rejoicing and others deeply grieved but we worshipped
and prayed, sang and ate together….and above all, we turned our eyes
toward the one who rode into Jerusalem for a much bigger cause. I think I saw
palm branches…Jesus was there. What if we invited Jesus into every relationship
this week? Every disagreement? Every hurt, division, struggle? Would we come
to the cross on Friday with different hearts? You know, it could be that Christian
community began right there at the foot of the cross with Mary and John… it is
there that we stand on level ground because we have all sinned, we all fall
short, we all hurt…it is there that our sorrows and sins find a common place of
healing and strength. If we remember that, wouldn’t we come on Good Friday,
cross draped in black, with tender hearts and a new grasp on those words, “For
God so loved the world”?
Come Saturday, the scriptures tell us that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary
were just sitting there opposite the tomb. After all the activity and emotion and
agony of Friday, Saturday must have come with a deafening silence, with a
scream in their hearts for a loved one now gone, with an ache in their souls of
unimagined loss...and what now? Where was their hope? Where were they to
turn? How were they to go on? Saturday was a long day and they had no idea
what Sunday would hold.
Sometimes “Saturday” is long for us too and for all those who find themselves in
places of loss, fear, confusion, wondering how to go on, where to find hope,
where to turn.
What if we found some space for silence this week to pray for the ones on our
prayer list, for ones in painful places…or maybe find some time to sit alongside
another who is hurting, make a phone call, send a note…perhaps we could be
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ones who hold the hope of Sunday for those who sit opposite the tomb of loss
and confusion and sorrow. And when we do, I am sure that we would find
evidence of palm leaves and we would know deep in our souls that Jesus was
there, even there.
This is a week to walk with Jesus and let go of the predictable…to watch for
palm branches in the most unexpected places. It is a week to ask ourselves,
“Who is this?” And then to discover anew what God wants to show us. I have no
grand vision for us today and no outlined plan for how to participate in the
events of this week. What I do have is a deep belief that like that week so long
ago, our God is always doing something unpredictable, always seeking us,
always offering himself for our sake. What I do have is a deep belief that our
God is about redemption, hope, and new life.
Today is a day of hosannas. Next Sunday is a day of alleluias. But we aren’t
there yet. There is a week ahead of us. Let’s walk into it watching for riding lawn
mowers and palm branches and expecting the unexpected. Let us experience
table, cross, and tomb as if it were all new. Let’s be open to seeing afresh who
Jesus is. Then when we wake up on Resurrection Sunday, let us experience it
anew…sin forgiven, redemption bought, freedom won…my friends, when we
have walked through this week, come Easter morning, may we encounter the
risen Lord as for the first time and let him change our lives.
Amen.
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