Palm Sunday 2007
Text:  Luke 19.28 – 40

"Palm Sunday: Danger at the Gates"

Let’s see those palm branches! 
What a great parade we had, but what was that all about? 
I don’t know if you guys have noticed this, but Palm Sunday is one big emotional roller coaster of a day.  There we all were at the Rock just a little while ago, waving palm branches and shouting, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!  Glory Hallelujah!”  It’s like a big rally for Jesus.  “Go Jesus!  Woo Hoo! We love this guy!!”
The palm branches that we carried are a reminder of the palm branches that Jesus’ followers strewed in his path as he approached the gates of Jerusalem.  Strewing palms and their cloaks was a way to say that they believed he was a king.  He was their king, entering the holy city of Jerusalem – the epicenter of Israel’s religious and political life.  Jesus’ followers worked themselves up into a frenzy of joy.  But make no mistake -- what they were saying and doing was an act of open rebellion against the Roman Empire – declaring that someone other than Caesar was their king.  They put their lives on the line, and they didn’t care.  All they cared about was that this man -- who had healed them, who had taught them amazing truths – this man who had stirred up their hope, who seemed to embody God’s love for them – this man was entering the holy city.  And all of their deepest desires came pouring out – their desire that Jerusalem be a place that heals their suffering, that Jerusalem be the seat of true and powerful teaching, that Jerusalem be the place where God’s love and forgiveness would be showered upon them. 
The combination of longing and joy was fierce. It was so intense that when a Pharisee told Jesus to shut them up, Jesus responded, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” 
Our procession is a small attempt to conjure this excitement, this longing, this exquisite joy.  But how fleeting it is.  We came in, sat down, and read together the passion narrative, events that took place just days later.  Is this what Jesus’ followers expected to happen?  Jesus did not saunter into Jerusalem, proclaim himself king, and miraculously drive out the Roman oppressors.  He did not waltz into the Temple and supplant the handful of religious leaders who were collaborating with Rome to oppress the Jewish people. 
Oh, Jesus walks into the Temple and stirs things up, to be sure.  But rather than leading a movement that builds in number and power, Jesus does things that infuriate both Roman and Temple authorities.  As Roman anger mounts, Jesus’ actions scare off all of those enthusiastic followers.  Before the week is out, they will abandon him; some will even join the crowds that call for his crucifixion.  In five short days he will be executed, just like all the other nobodies who tried to mess with Rome.  And he will die almost entirely alone. 
This is the inherent schizophrenia of Palm Sunday.  Today we live out that joyful procession, ushering Jesus into the thrones of our hearts and proclaiming him Lord and King.  And in the same moment, we prepare to walk with the disciples through the terrifying events of Good Friday.  Indeed, on this very day we have already joined the crowd that cries out for his execution. 
Of course, unlike the people who cheered Jesus on that day, we do all of this knowing that Jesus’ terrible death is not the last word.  We know that if we are willing to walk with Jesus and the disciples through the gates of hell and death, we will emerge with him on the other side, into the joy and freedom of his resurrection.  And yet, even with this certain knowledge, it is tempting to leapfrog over the events of Holy Week.  It is tempting to jump from our cheerleading Palm Sunday procession right into Easter.  From joy to joy, no need to focus on all that pain and sorrow.  You don’t need me to stand here and tell you that such leapfrogging leads to spiritual emptiness.  But I also am not going to stand here and pretend that Holy Week is an easy ride. 
Palm Sunday is often described as Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  But our reading today stops with the procession just outside the gates of the city.  Right now, I want to invite you to pause there.  I want you to take a long hard look at those city gates, and consider whether you have the intestinal fortitude to enter them.  Take a moment to understand at a deep level that once inside, you will not be safe. 
Well, what a ridiculous thing for me to say.  “You won’t be safe.”  Here we are in Evanston, Illinois, in one of the safest neighborhoods of one of the safest cities in the United States.  We are smack in the middle of the U.S., the world’s only superpower.  We are not some piddling little country, occupied by a foreign power, facing daily military threat.  We aren’t some impoverished underdeveloped country, ruled by warlords or threatened by maruading janjaweed soldiers.  We are Americans.  We are the occupiers.  We are Rome. 
Our affluence and power are two of the chief obstacles we face in trying to live lives that are authentically Christian.  That’s why it matters that we be aware of our safety, and that we choose to take risks – risks that are both spiritual and material. 
We enter those gates following a man who rides a simple colt, not a pwerful war horse.  We remove our cloaks, symbols of all that protects us, and we lay them before the Lord.  In our vulnerability, in our need, with our human frailty exposed to the world, we beg God to let us enter the sacred.

Holy Week is an appropriate time to ask yourself, honestly, what risks you are willing to take on behalf of your faith.  I ask you now:
What measure of safety will you lay aside to stand with Jesus in his final hours?
Where in your life does your faith push you out of your comfort zone? 
Does love – not romantic love, but Big Love – love for God, love for the world – Does love ever lead you to be so honest, so vulnerable, that it sometimes scares you?

If you don’t know what I am talking about, if you cannot identify some place in your life where your faith challenges you, then you are missing out on something really important.  Why?  Because you can’t get to Easter without going through Good Friday.
Today, we stand outside the gates of Jerusalem.  Take a long look at them.  Take a deep breath, and decide whether or not you are going to follow Jesus in. 

The journey of Holy Week begins now.

                                                                        Rev. Elizabeth M. Stedman
                                                                        Canterbury Northwestern
                                                                        April 1, 2007