A Sermon by
Robert E. Dunham
Sunday April 1, 2012
Palm Sunday is such an enigmatic day. It feels, on the one hand, like a festival. There is mirth and jubilation, the waving of palm fronds. The crowds greeting Jesus are hopeful, expectant. "Hosanna!" they shout. And then they remember the 118th Psalm: they cry, "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David." As I said, it feels on the one hand like a festival. On the other hand, there is something in this day that is like the calm before a storm, like the eerie receding of the tide before a tsunami crashes in. This is not just any Sunday; it is Palm Sunday, and we know that in just a few days the waves of Christ's passion will engulf us.
In that sense, Jesus' ride atop a borrowed donkey is an ironic scene. Brian Blount likens Jesus's situation here to that of the character Sean Penn played in the film, "Dead Man Walking." You know the story, I suspect: Penn played a man on death row in the Louisiana State Penitentiary.
The movie highlighted the angst of someone condemned to die, waiting out his time incarcerated, losing more and more of his humanity as each day passed and the moment of his killing drew near. The last and perhaps the saddest ritual [of those days] was that final walk from his prison cell to the death chamber that would host the forfeiture of his life. They had a name for a man on this short walk.... Since his end was already foreordained, since it was now only a matter of timing, even though he walked and breathed, his life had, for all intents and purposes, come to an end. He was a dead man walking. [In a similar way, says Blount] Jesus was a dead man riding.
It's not hard for us to see that truth now, knowing what we know about Holy Week, but it does take some of the exuberance out of our palm waving, doesn't it? It is part of that ironic, enigmatic character of this day. Here he comes, riding that donkey... a dead man riding. But the crowds didn't see that irony. Says Blount:
The scene that surrounds [Jesus'] entrance into Jerusalem on the back of that [donkey] is one of the most electrifying and affirming in the Gospel. Whether they were gathered by Jesus, whether they gathered spontaneously when they saw him coming, whether they were gathered for the Passover and Jesus just happened to wander fortuitously into their mix, the fact remains that in this moment he looks every bit the Messianic Son of God Peter had proclaimed him to be (8:29).... [H]e is, quite simply put, a prophetic vision. The crowd knows it. That's why they sing out with those acclamations of praise, "Hosanna." "Save Now, God." "Save, now that the one who comes in your name comes to reestablish the glory of our people as when David was our king." [We] have heard the adulation of crowds. [We] have seen them at sporting events to signal their joy. [We] have been a part of them at grand events of worship as they proclaim their awe....[We] know that at such a moment there is no greater feeling of being alive, of being an important part of some measure of human living. Odd, then, that at just such a moment, we see the foreboding narrative shadow. We know that Jesus is already dead.
So, while it is a festival day, this Palm Sunday, it also comes with its eerie and portentous receding of the tide. It is both, and that is why we call this day Palm/Passion Sunday. For all of its celebratory air, this day also marks the beginning of the last week of Jesus' life.
John Calvin once said of that procession into Jerusalem that it was all a little ridiculous. Jesus was riding not on a royal steed but on a little donkey. It was not even his own donkey, but had to be borrowed. He had no saddle, so that people had to throw their cloaks on the little donkey's back. Those following him must have been a rag-tag group of the poor and forgotten people of his time.
And yet the crowds shouted, "Hosanna." "Hosanna," they said. It's a Semitic word, and not a word we use readily any other day but today. We don't really know exactly what it means. Our best guess is that the people were crying out to God to save them, to restore the kingdom of their forbear David. Such irony here! Theologian William Placher describes the tension between Jesus "looking rather foolish on his donkey and the astonishingly bold claims implicitly made for him." Of course, in the end, the claims and pleas of the crowds turned out to be well-placed and rightly voiced, but even they couldn't have understood that possibility or how it would play out at the time.
What the people wanted, of course, was something immediate, something powerful, something that would turn their fortunes around. They wanted a great nation again, not a Roman provincial state. They wanted freedom from oppression. They wanted economic renewal and an overturning of the corrupt power structure that kept them poor and voiceless. Think ahead to the two disciples we'll encounter in the weeks ahead who were on their way to Emmaus after Jesus' crucifixion; what was it they said as they walked along? "We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel." That's what the crowds wanted. That's what the disciples wanted. They wanted things to be better in the land of Israel, because things were pretty desperate in those days.
It's not so different from the aspirations and hopes Americans have for their leaders, I would argue. A year ago this week New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg fired the chancellor of the city schools after she had spent barely three months on the job. At Cathie Black's appointment the mayor and three of his predecessors had lauded her as just the right person for the job, but apparently that was not true. The reasons for her swift departure from the job were well-documented at the time. What might have been missed was an opinion piece in response to the firing written for the New York Times by Timothy Hacsi, a history professor at the University of Massachusetts. In an editorial column entitled "Stop Waiting for a Savior," Hacsi noted that Cathie Black had lasted only three months in the job, instead of the customary three years, but then said this: "[T]he real issue is not the superintendent's or chancellor's background, but the excessive emphasis that politicians, educators and parents place on the notion of leadership rather than on empirical evidence about what improves education.... The problem is all the time we spend talking about how the last leader failed, how the current leader is struggling, and how the next leader must succeed."
My sense is that the same could be said about our own search for national leaders in these times. It doesn't matter who's served before, or who's running now, or what their slogan is. We remember the campaign slogans - "Are you better off than you were four years ago?" "It's morning in America," "A Kinder, Gentler Nation," "Compassionate Conservatism," "Change We Can Believe In" - and we remember the disappointment when those slogans were forgotten, when the Etch-a-Sketch was shaken clean, within days of those leaders taking office. "The problem is all the time we spend talking about how the last leader failed, how the current leader is struggling, and how the next leader must succeed." The problem is we're all looking for a savior, but we want salvation only on our own terms...terms that costs us nothing... no personal sacrifice, nothing hard, please.
As my pastor-friend Scott Black Johnston says, "The story of the unknown political figure who arrives with great expectations only to become a magnet for public scorn is not a new one." It wasn't new in Jerusalem, either.
Jesus arrives in Jerusalem as people shout their ecstatic hopes. "Son of David!" Then, he disappoints them. He offends them. He betrays their expectations. [He betrays their "hosannas."] By Friday the exuberant crowds shouting "Messiah" are nowhere to be seen, and even his closest friends will not admit that they know him.
By Friday, the people's "hosannas" will have been betrayed. And maybe that is it. Maybe Scott is right. But, then, maybe that's the very way Jesus saves us. What Jesus offers - a way of peace, a way of forgiveness, a way of kindness and compassion and reconciliation, a way that gets its hands dirty in ministry to the poor, a way that lends value and importance to those commonly designated "the least of these" - is not an offer that many in Palestine wanted to embrace. It surely is not what most people in our culture seem to want. If we're shouting "hosannas" at leaders today, what we have in mind is rescue from those who think differently from us; we want to be saved from our enemies, which are always those who look or think or act in ways that we don't like.
Thinking about the betrayal of expectations my friend Scott went back a few years to recount the sad case of John Rocker. Does anyone here remember John Rocker? Rocker was the high-strung relief pitcher, the closer for the Atlanta Braves. In the fall of 1999, the Braves lost the World Series to the New York Yankees. In early 2000 he gave an interview to Sports Illustrated. It was not a gentle read. It was full of racist and xenophobic remarks, deeply embarrassing to those of us who had been Braves fans. The reporter asked him if he would ever consider playing for the Yankees or the Mets in New York. His response was abrasive and shocking. He said:
I'd retire first. It's the most hectic, nerve-wracking city. Imagine having to take the 7 train to the ballpark, looking like you're [riding through] Beirut next to some kid with purple hair next to some queer with AIDS right next to some dude who just got out of jail for the fourth time right next to some 20-year-old mom with four kids. It's depressing...The biggest thing I don't like about New York are the foreigners. I'm not a very big fan of foreigners. You can walk an entire block in Times Square and not hear anybody speaking English. Asians and Koreans and Vietnamese and Indians and Russians and Spanish people and everything up there. How ... did [all these foreigners] get in this country?
It is a sad irony that while Rocker was vilified for that response in 1999, just a dozen years later he could probably run for public office on that very platform in many parts of the country, or enshrine his prejudices in a constitutional amendment. Not then: the fans in New York and in Atlanta were scathing in their criticisms of the young pitcher for his rude and angry characterizations.
But that wasn't the point Scott Black Johnston was trying to make when he told Rocker's story. It wasn't Rocker's betrayal of expectations to which he was pointing. He went on to recall that shortly after that interview appeared, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution carried an op-ed piece about John Rocker, written by Andrew Young, the former mayor of Atlanta, one time United Nations ambassador, and veteran of the struggle for civil rights in this country. In that editorial Young acknowledged that he, too, had said some stupid things in interviews and understood the pressure of the media. He challenged Rocker to remember the taunts that black baseball players like Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron had endured and encouraged Rocker to embrace a higher way, a way grounded in faith. He then encouraged the rest of us to extend a little Christian grace and mercy to John Rocker.
I remember being surprised and upset with Andrew Young at the time. I'd stood with him in demonstrations against racism in the 1960s. I wanted him, as someone with a very public voice, to be harder on Rocker. So did many of his friends and followers, my friend Scott remembered; they took his olive-branch approach as a betrayal. I was like them, I have to say. I felt betrayed.
I suspect that the same kind of thing happened that first Holy Week. When Jesus came into Jerusalem and didn't rouse the people into rising up against their Roman oppressors and didn't take steps to restore the fortunes of Israel, and thus didn't meet the crowd's expectations, they turned on him. Scott Black Johnston says,
As far as Messiahs go, Jesus of Nazareth is a traitor. He betrays our expectations of what is right, and what is appropriate, of who deserves redemption and how it ought to be accomplished. [Yet this] is how God saves us - by betraying our self-serving ends and coming to be with us [so as to transform us]. God comes... God steps out of grandeur to stand with us in awkward places at awful times [not often giving us what we want, but always providing what we need]. Is there any better way to commence Holy Week [then] than with palms in our hands and "Hosannas" on our lips? Is there any more faithful way to embark on this sacred journey than to toss our expectations aside and to ask God, out of the deep, honest places inside us, to "Save us...please, save us"?
That is our prayer even today... that God will betray all our selfish wants and answer instead our deepest needs and our very best hopes. It may seem odd to say, but that kind of betrayal may well be what we need now more than ever... in these days when, by all the signs we see, the tide appears to be starting ominously to recede.
 Brian K. Blount, "Dead Man Walking," a sermon in Brian K. Blount and Gary W. Charles, Preaching Mark in Two Voices, Louisville, Westminster John Knox Presas, 2002, 204, 206.
 Calvin, Harmony of the Evangelists, 2:447, as cited by William C. Placher, Mark: A Belief Commentary, Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2011, 156.
 R. Alan Culpepper, Mark, Smyth and Helwys Bible Commentary, Macon, GA, Smyth and Helwys Publishing, 2007, 371.
 Placher, 158.
 Timothy A. Hacsi, "Stop Waiting for a Savior," New York Times, April 11, 2011. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/11/opinion/11hacsi.html?_r=1&ref=cathleenpblack, accessed March 29, 2012. Thanks for the reference to Scott Black Johnson and his paper on this text, presented to the January 2012 meeting of the Moveable Feast in Decatur, Georgia. This sermon draws heavily on Scott's paper.
 Scott Black Johnston, op. cit.
 John Rocker, as cited in Scott Black Johnston's paper and SI Online; http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/features/cover/news/1999/12/22/rocker/, accessed March 29, 2012..
 Scott Black Johnston paper.
 Scott Black Johnston paper.
Scott BlackJohnston paper.