April 13, 2014 Matthew 21:1-11

Matthew 21:1-11, Page 23 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 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. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, 'The Lord needs them. 'And he will send them immediately." This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, "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.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 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!” When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.” *** There is a commercial that starts out focused in on the face of Jean Claude Van Damme. Enya is playing and there is a golden sunset highlighting the sky. At first you notice that there is a slight movement like a wind; then the cameras begin to pull back and Jean Claude Van Damme is standing between two semi-trucks straddling one foot on each side mirror. Then the camera pulls back more, and you realize the trucks are driving backwards, and slowly pulling apart, as Jean Claude, arms crossed, goes into his famous splits. The commercial is for Volvo and its precision steering, and it can be found on Youtube under the the title, “The Most Epic of Splits.” I think there are ways we imagine Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in a similar way, the hero of all heroes, riding triumphantly into the city, palm branches waving, people shouting, ‘hosanna.’ This lofty vision of Jesus is depicted when we sing, ‘All Glory Laud and Honor,’ This historic hymn, for this monumental yearly Palm Sunday occasion, was written in 820AD, originally composed in Latin, and as much as I enjoy it, ‘All Glory Laud and Honor,’ reeks of old English, and oil paintings where a peaceful Jesus is stylized with those gleaming beams of light. The lyrics describe, “Thou art the King of Israel, Thou David’s royal Son, Who in the Lord’s Name comest, The King and Blessèd One. The company of angels Are praising Thee on High, And mortal men and all things Created make reply.” In this image, Jesus Christ Van Damme is coming into town with Enya playing in the background. It is serious, and superior, and perfect, but if you’ve ever heard me preach, you’ll know I resist the perfect interpretation. I resist perfection here because while I believe Jesus could have had the athleticism of Jean Claude, I do doubt that two donkeys had the precision of a couple of Volvos. Yes, I said two donkeys, a donkey and a colt, the foal of a donkey. And like Jean Claude positioned between two trucks standing on their side mirrors, Matthew describes that Jesus, “sat on them,” plural. I don’t imagine riding one donkey to be very graceful. When I was in Greece, tourists had the opportunity to ride down a bunch of stairs on a donkey. It didn’t take me long to decide that this activity was really for the amusement of the Greeks, who walked up and down the stairs, as did I. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Jesus on the other hand, was much more comfortable being more ridiculous then respectable. I imagine him riding both a donkey and its colt. Perhaps he laid down across them, perhaps he tried to straddle them both, perhaps he rode one and reached for the other with an outstretched arm, but somehow he sat on them, both, as Matthew describes. Somehow he rode into Jerusalem that way. There is a trailer video of Jean Claude hearing for the first time that he is being asked to straddle two Volvos. He rhetorically asks in his strong Belgian accent, “So if the trucks separate too far, I will..” and then he makes the universally clear hand motion of falling through. While donkeys are not as far to fall from as semi-trucks, I doubt the motion of falling through was unfamiliar in Biblical times. Were there times on his triumphal ride into Jerusalem that the donkey wanted to stay on the road and the foal wanted to go munch on the weeds on the side? Was Jesus’ parade more like Field Day at Elementary School, more akin to three legged, and wheel barrow races? Was Jesus’ entry this humorous? This playful? This countercultural to our image of “Thee, Redeemer, King?” I think it was, because just as this spectacle seems contrary to our red carpet image of Jesus, it was likewise contrary to the Jew’s image of a king then. The Jews were waiting for a military hero, a political king to redeem them. "Two processions entered Jerusalem on a spring day in the year 30," write biblical scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan. They continue by contrasting the two processions, one from the east largely composed of peasants, following a certain Jesus from Galilee riding a donkey (or donkeys) down the Mount of Olives. On the opposite side of the city, from the west approaches the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, entering the city on a war horse at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers. He has come from Caesarea Maritima for the purpose of maintaining law and order during the potentially tumultuous days of the Jewish festival of Passover.” Jesus' procession proclaimed the kingdom of God,” while Pilate's proclaimed the "power of empire.” The people lining the streets are expecting someone more like Pontius Pilate, and instead they are getting Jesus on two donkeys, who brings no war cry, no political power, but instead peace by way of prophesy. Matthew writes that Jesus, in this Palm Sunday parade, is fulling the prophesy of Zechariah 4, which reads, 9 Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. 10 He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the warhorse from Jerusalem; and the battle-bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations; his dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth. The people of Jerusalem are expecting Jean Claude Van Damme, not Martin Luther King Jr., not Mother Theresa, not Nelson Mandela, and certainly not someone acting as ridiculously as the crew from Saturday Night Live. We today have been expecting, “All Glory Laud and Honor,” not “We Shall Overcome,” not, “Old McDonald’s Farm.” We have been expecting two Volvos, not two donkeys. Jesus had been expecting the donkeys. He knows they are there, and sends the disciples saying, “"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.” and I can’t help but notice those lines, “bring them to me.” It is just as Jesus tells the people holding back their children, “Bring them to me, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” The kingdom of God belongs to the one who is willing to ride into town on the silly ridiculousness of two donkeys. The kingdom of God belongs to the one who has come to cut off the battle-bow and bring peace to the nations. The kingdom of God belongs to the children, who come in waving palm branches, both then and now. Can't you imagine it, the kids noticing Jesus' silly scene, running up to him with laughter and cheering, their smiles a testimony to the peace that Jesus' brings, to the peace that they understand, the peace the adults needed to see through those children's' eyes. "To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.” This line is the part of the old hymn which gets it right, that powerless joyful children embody Jesus’ ministry. Often on Palm Sunday, we adults struggle to really wave our palm branches, sheepish motions are made to egg on the kids. Perhaps we think we are too grown up to come into the church waving palm branches. Perhaps we think it is too silly, and not serious enough. But the truth is we need the children to lead us. We need Palm Sunday to look different than a straight faced robed processional of adults, or soldiers marching. We need the little ones who have to be corralled down the center aisle, and the ones like the colt who stray off to munch the weeds or head toward their parents, and never make it quite to the front. We need the ones who are willing to be silly, who are willing to bring peace by their joyful presence. We need this because this is the kingdom of God to which the parade is leading, both then and now.