Sermon for the Palm Sunday

Sunday 4th April 2004

Preached by Rev Brian Parker


Why me? Why not?

Some years ago crowds in the streets of Belfast waved white ribbons and chanted ‘make peace now’. These peace rallies made good television and projected a surge of good will and some hope into the community.

But we all know that it takes real politics to make a difference. It takes courage and compromise to make the deal, to settle the issue. Whatever makes for peace and justice goes deeper than chants and demonstrations however well intended.

As Edmund Bourke said: ‘Evil will triumph if good men do nothing’. Evil will triumph if good men only chant – ‘make peace now’ – and are not prepared to make peace work by dialogue, by persuasion, by seeking justice, by being reconcilers.

On this Palm Sunday the Prince of Peace enters Jerusalem for the last time. He is moving in a hostile environment. It’s a threatening environment with various factions and vested interests represented in the crowd.

But yet there is a festive atmosphere. The hostility is under the surface. Many in the crowd are waving palm leaves.

The chant is ‘Hosanna. Hosanna.’ It’s a Hebrew word meaning ‘Lord save’. It sounds like a shout of triumph. The Saviour is here. Now ‘Lord save’.

The crowd anticipates deliverance of some sort. There is enthusiasm and excitement.

And so this historic moment in the life of Jesus is known as ‘The Triumphal Entry’.

What was the nature of this triumph? The answer to that question helps us understand what real peace making is all about.

The crowd was so vast it would be tempting to imagine that Our Lord’s triumph had something to do with numbers. Was his triumph about pulling the crowds and getting a full house?

Surely this showed his charisma, his drawing power, and his star appeal.

Not so. They had indeed come to see him and the palm leaves were being waved with fervour and enthusiasm. There was a lot of noise and excited chants.

But it all amounted to hot air. It was a terrible misunderstanding.

The noisy, excited crowd had misunderstood the mission of Jesus, the peacemaker, the Saviour.

A few days later the penny dropped. He was not a military leader come to deliver them from the cruelty of Roman rule and oppression. He was not a political power broker.

Now the ‘Hosanna’ became an angry cry of ‘Crucify him’, ‘Crucify him’.

A peacemaker had no part to play in their military and political ambitions. He was a distraction, a frustration.

However some in the crowd had come with Jesus from Galilee. They knew very well his way and manner with people.

They had been close to him and seen what he had done. They recognised him as the healer, the reconciler. They had sensed his spiritual authority and his genuine love.

What was happening in Jerusalem now was prophecy being fulfilled.

“Shout O Jerusalem. See your King comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey.”

How their eyes must have marvelled at the sight of that donkey.

In those days a donkey, far from being a figure of fun, was regarded as a noble beast. A King who went to war rode a horse; a King who came in peace rode a donkey.

So that donkey, so deliberately chosen by Jesus, was in fact a statement – a way of signalling the true nature of the Messiah and the manner of his coming.

He came as a peacemaker between God and man.

No wonder that donkey gripped the imagination of poets down the centuries.

“Fools! For I also had my hour
One far fierce hour and sweet
There was a shout about my ears
And palms before my feet.”

Yet, there was no sense of triumph even among those who knew Jesus well.

Indeed in a few days they would deny ever knowing him. They would run away, their hopes dashed, their faith consumed in a sense of failure and despair.

So in the crowd on this Palm Sunday we see the Zealots ready to pounce with all the venom and violence that comes with the pursuit of power for power’s sake.

We also see the cowardice that exposes the fair weather friends who had really been on nothing more than a sentimental journey with Jesus, curious, interested even respectful but not true followers.

In between were all sorts of people not least the cynical calculators waiting to see how this peacemaker would fare. They sat on the fence.

Jesus knew them all. “How often would I have gathered together the people as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings, but they would not.”

The calculators, the idle spectators, the hypocrites kept their distance. That’s apathy.

And those in authority asked, “What crime has he committed?” But ultimately they bowed to pressure – the pressure of unjust vindictiveness and political treachery.

So wherever you looked there was no triumph in the crowd.

The triumph was in the peacemaker. Luke tells us: ‘Jesus resolutely set out to go to Jerusalem’.

The triumph was in the resolute spirit of the peacemaker. The triumphal entry was also a triumphal exit from the despair and apprehension of Gethsemane.

The triumph was in overcoming the spiritual reluctance inherent in that question ‘Why me?’ ‘Why me?’ It’s the question that stops good men in their tracks. It’s the question Jesus himself asked: ‘Why me?’

But then Jesus said: ‘Why not?’ and accepted his God given mission and purpose. He felt compelled to go to Jerusalem. His entry was a triumph over negative thoughts, over fear, over apathy.

He became obedient to God’s will. His sacrifice led to the triumph over evil and death itself - something that we may all experience by God’s grace.

So on this Palm Sunday let’s not be hoodwinked into thinking good can triumph by numbers alone or by chants and hot air or by token gestures.

The peacemaker triumphs by putting aside cynical self-interest and working for peace and justice.

Some thirty years after Palm Sunday St Paul sent a letter from his prison cell to his friends in Philippi. It became known as ‘The letter of excellent things.’

Through it ran a thread of steely resolve and commitment. It urged Christians in their faith and mission to remain steadfast. ‘Let your attitude be the same as that of Christ Jesus’, writes Paul.

This is at the heart of our Christian vocation. It’s a deliberate attitude that works out what it will take to make a difference for good and resolutely goes for it.

It’s a spiritual triumph that we have seen expressed over the years in so much good work here in our own divided society.

It’s an attitude of faith and perseverance. It’s a triumph of God’s grace at work in our lives, something the hymn-writer enthuses over.

The Kingdoms of the world go by
In purple and in gold
They rise, they flourish and they die,
And all their tale is told.

One Kingdom only is Divine
One banner triumphs still
It’s King a servant and it’s sign
A gibbet on a hill.