“Where Are You Headed?” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on April 2, 2023. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 46:00.
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Scripture Text:
Matthew 21:1-11
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I have a request for each of us today. I want us each to wave our palms during the sermon today. I’m serious. Don’t injure yourself, don’t put yourself out of breath, and don’t terrorize your neighbor. But wave your palm proudly high up in the air for as long as you can. I’m going to do it too.
Let me tell you about Palm Sunday. Sorry to Christmas or Easter, but Palm Sunday is my personal favorite day of the church calendar. I love the fanfare of it. I love the palms and the way they call us to worship in a different way. I love the way it joyfully, powerfully, and humbly prepares ourselves for Holy Week and Easter Sunday. I love that the Palm Sunday scripture text is found in all four gospels and is still so relevant today. I love Palm Sunday!
But the number one reason I love Palm Sunday is because six years ago, I was ordained as a Minister of Word & Sacrament on Palm Sunday. It was the day that the very same church that told me I would be punished for being gay affirmed my call as an openly gay man leading the church. I call it my own Triumphal Entry into ministry. It was a beautiful day that I remember with great joy and gratitude.
A year after being ordained, I was scheduled to preach on Palm Sunday. I remember being so excited to have the opportunity to preach on my ordination anniversary. I think I was going to use it to reflect on my first year of ordained ministry. But that week leading up to Palm Sunday was different. Five years ago, the week of Palm Sunday, youth and leaders organized the March for Our Lives protests across our country. That is because that year, on Ash Wednesday, 17 lives were lost at the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting in Florida.
That year, Palm Sunday echoed Jesus’ own triumphal entry but instead of hearing, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!”, the crowds shouted, “Enough is enough! Save our kids!”
It is estimated up to 2 million participants marched in the March for our Lives protests that first year, making it still one of the largest nationwide protests our country has ever experienced.
That number also echoes the original triumphal entry.
It is estimated that around 2 million people gathered to welcome Jesus as he marched into Jerusalem.
I imagined that it was on that day of all days of how incredible it was to be a disciple of Jesus. Jesus is riding a donkey and a colt into Jerusalem, and as he does, he is surrounded by large crowds the entire way, with seemingly no end to their numbers nor their shouts. It was a roar; joyful praise and adoration! People throwing down their cloaks; waving branches high in the air; this was the BEST day!
Think of what happened, just a few moments ago, the praise we sang and the joy we felt as we waved our palm branches during our opening song. How cool is it that we get to do that in church?! To sing and celebrate the coming of our Lord? That’s the joy millions felt as Jesus rode that donkey and colt into Jerusalem. The world bowed at his feet, threw cloaks on his path, and sang of his greatness.
The disciples got to be a part of that as the inner circle, his closest friends and followers. They got to experience this pure joy; they too were heroes! I’m sure they loved it!
And can we blame them? Who wouldn’t want to be associated with Jesus on that day? This is the Lord of all; and they got to march with him! We still get to march with him and for him, and as Christians, we gladly do so!
Are we still feeling that joy as we wave our palms now?
This is the best day. This is Jesus in a moment of power and status, praise and triumph—this day of all days, I am with Jesus, just like the disciples gladly were.
But do we understand what the first march stood for?
Jerusalem was a Jewish city, but it was still under Roman rule. Every year, around the Passover, the Emperor would parade through Jerusalem, where all of the Jews lived. The Emperor would march through Jerusalem with all of his soldiers, weapons, and prisoners just to remind the Jews that he was their ruler, even greater than their God.
Jesus’ march, simultaneously happening as the Emperor’s march, was a direct threat to the Roman empire. The Emperor’s march carried the threat of death if you disobeyed, Jesus’ march was an invitation to life if you dared to follow.
The people were given a choice. They could be complacent in a broken system that welcomes death. Or they could rebel and protest a broken system, which might lead to their own death, but bring new life onto others.
What happened that week after Jesus’ march in Jerusalem?
The disciples will soon leave Jesus. They eventually gather together one last time to share in the Passover meal. You know the story. Jesus takes a loaf of bread, blesses it, and breaks it. He then takes a cup, blesses it, and pours it. Both shall be done in remembrance of him. And all the disciples participate; it’s the last time before Jesus’ death that they are truly all together; that they are with him.
The moment Jesus goes out into the Garden of Gethsemane, his disciples will soon scatter. They all leave him as he is arrested, tried, tortured, and then crucified. The disciples, the very same people who were with Jesus as millions welcomed him into the city, became swallowed by a broken system. It was easier to accept the way things were in the broken system rather than accept the invitation into creating a new, better system.
And friends, as much I would like to question what the disciples were thinking, I can’t. I don’t get to question why they left. because I’ve left Jesus behind too. And maybe, whether intentionally or not, you have too.
A few years ago talking to a friend about how often Presbyterians celebrate the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. Her, being a faithful Catholic, was appalled when I told her that it’s about once a month. Her jaw actually dropped when I told her our polity, as found in the Book of Order, only requires a minimum of once a quarter. Catholics requires the Sacrament of Lord’s Supper to be celebrated every week at the first least: that’s 52 weeks a year. Presbyterians require a minimum of once a quarter; that’s 4 weeks a year. So First Pres, we’re at least beating the minimum; good for us! My friend, in her state of shock, then asked why we only celebrate it once a month.
And I slipped up and said the words that sent her into a tailspin. When she asked why we only celebrate it once a month; I said, “I guess we only celebrate it when it’s convenient for us.”
And although I didn’t actually mean it the way that I said it or the way it came across, my friend started a truthful and just rant. I’m going to save you all from that full conversation, but I will share a powerful line. In her rant, she said, “Where in the Bible does Jesus say, ‘Take up your cross and follow me when it’s convenient for you.’”
Heh. She’s right.
Friends, the disciples gladly were with Jesus during the Triumphal Entry. They didn’t question anything; they didn’t turn their backs. They gladly walked alongside him as people joyfully cheered and bowed and everything was easy and fun and exciting. But the moment it wasn’t easy and fun and exciting; they left. And at times, so do we.
How is the Palm Waving? Are we still doing okay?
When I was in seminary, for two summers, I worked at a Christian outdoors camp in North Dakota. That camp – Camp Metigoshe – would host a Christ-hike every Wednesday for the campers on site that week. It was a passion play that showed the life of Jesus, from his baptism in the Jordan to his death on the cross and eventual resurrection. A few of the counselors and staff would play the role of Jesus as well as other characters including John the Baptist, some of Jesus’ disciples, the Samaritan Woman, the blind man, Pontius Pilate, etc. If we were a counselor without a part in the Christ-hike, we still had two lines.
During the scene of the Triumphal Entry, as Jesus marched into Jerusalem, counselors and staff were supposed to initiate the cries, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!” and invite the campers to do the same.
Our second line came a few scenes later. After Jesus’ last supper, after praying in the garden, after his betrayal and arrest; Jesus comes before Pontius Pilate on trial. During the scene, Pilate asks the crowds what we should do with Jesus. This time, the counselors and staff were supposed to initiate the answer until others joined us. When Pilate asked us what we should do with Jesus, we shouted, “Crucify him!”
To this day, I still believe this juxtaposition of lines is an accurate representation of what it looks like for us to follow Jesus. On our faithful days, we shout, “Hosanna! Lord, save us!” On our days we feel too inconvenienced, we unintentionally shout, “Crucify him!”
This week, like all the other many weeks our country experiences a school shooting, is a holy week invitation to see just how far we are willing to stay with Jesus. Will we continue to shout “Hosanna! Lord, Save Us!” or will we give in and become complacent in a broken system as we shout, “Crucify him!”?
“I need my guns.” Crucify him!
“We should ban drag queens and books.” Crucify him!
“I have no power to make a difference.” Crucify him!
Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!
I can see why the crowds and disciples left Jesus. It was all too easy to fall victim to a system that made them feel powerless.
But when Jesus defeated death upon the cross, the disciples found their power once more. And they marched and they protested and they preached, and soon the broken system broke and the invitation to life and new life was spread.
I believe in this power today. Because I will tell you this is not a partisan issue. It does not matter if you are a republican or a democrat or neither. The republican parent and the democrat parent wants just as badly for their child to come home safely as the other. And I don’t think a single person in this room disagrees with me on that. Our children’s lives are and always will be our priority. Right there, we have found the common ground to have a conversation that invites others into relationship, and together we have the power break the broken system.
And it will be hard. It will be hard to have patience with each other. It will be hard to figure out the right solution. It will be hard to stand your ground when others might challenge you. But it will be even more hard to hear another Palm Sunday sermon five years from now following even more school shootings and even more lives lost.
Like waving our palms, being a Christian is sometimes tiring and painful. It is easy and joyful when it’s convenient for us. When our lives are filled with blessings, you better believe all of us are singing our loudest praises for God. But being a Christian also means following Christ beyond the Triumphant Entry and into the shadow of Gethsemane and the horror of calvary. Being a Christian means taking up the cross at all times, not just when it’s convenient to us. Being a disciple of Christ means we still wave our palms and still shout “Save us!” when life is exhausting and painful and hard.
Five years ago I heard the best Palm Sunday sermon to this day. Probably one of the best sermons I’ve ever heard. But it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t even a clergy’s.
It was the youth marching in the streets shouting, “Enough is enough! Save our kids!”
Hosanna. Lord, save us. Hosanna. Lord, save us.
Are you still waving your palms? At this point, it probably has become hard and difficult and perhaps even painful. But that is the requirement of us as Christians: to follow Christ even when it’s hard. That is how we heal a broken system.
This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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