Palm/Passion Sunday     Matthew 26, Mark 14, Luke 22    

“Hey sanna, ho sanna, sanna, sanna, hey sanna, ho sanna sanna sanna , ho sanna, hey sanna, Hey, hey JC, JC won’t you smile at me.  Jesus Christ, if you’re divine, turn my water into wine.  Prove to me that you’re no fool.  Walk across my swimming pool.  Hey sanna, ho sanna, sanna, sanna, hey sanna, ho sanna.”

With these words, Weber and Rice’s rock opera, “Jesus Christ Superstar” have captured the glimmer of that first Palm Sunday parade; that nationalistic religious fervored carnival of Hey sanna, ho sanna, sanna, sanna, hey sanna, ho sanna; Jesus Christ if you’re divine, turn my water into wine.

What a day.  You couldn’t believe it. It was like a carnival. It was like a circus. It was like a parade.  Hundreds of thousands of Jews were jammed into the holiest of holy cities.  Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims were jammed into those narrow little streets. It was like a carnival. Shoulder to shoulder. Arm to arm. Body to body. You couldn’t walk. You couldn’t squeeze through this mob of people crammed into those little narrow streets of Jerusalem.

It was Passover time and the city was jammed.  It was like a mob at Mardi Gras. Just jammed. And you were there. The hockers were hocking their wares, “Lambs for sale. Lambs for sale.”  “Good deal on matzo.  Matzo here in our tent.” “Come and have your Passover dinner with us.  Great food.”

What a mad house. Dirty streets and dusty mules. Dusty streets and dirty mules. Camels baying off in the distance. Pilgrims chanting their prayers. Roman chariots and Roman charioteers riding back and forth.  Just like it the movies with John Wayne and Charlton Heston and Cecil B. DeMille, and they were all there. What a mad house. What a mess. But it was a great week for business and a great week for making money. And the kids? They loved all the commotion.

The reputation of Jesus had already spread.  You see, the day before, Jesus Christ had produced the mightiest miracle he had ever done.  Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. He had actually raised Lazarus from the dead yesterday, and then coming into town, Jesus healed two more men, blind men, and they were now able to see. The masses of people had heard about these miracles, and everyone wanted to see if he could pull off another trick like that. The crowd wanted to see more miracles.  They wanted to see another deaf person hear. They wanted to see a blind man be given sight. They wanted to see the skin of a leper made pure. Just like on television.  They wanted to see the healer in action, this mighty miracle worker.  And if they saw a miracle, let me tell you, if they saw a man actually raised from the dead, they would believe.  If they actually saw a blind man be given sight, they would then be true believers. If the Houdini of the Holy Land could pull another trick out of his bag, they would believe.

“Hey, hey, JC, JC won’t you smile at me.  Jesus Christ if you’re divine, turn my water into wine.  Prove to me that you’re not fool, walk across my swimming pool.” There are people who are like that, you know.   They will only believe if they see a sign.

That is the way it was on that first Palm Sunday parade. There was that group of people there to see the Houdini of the Holy Land in action. It was the Big Top, the Big Tent, a carnival, the center ring in action. That was one group who was present on that first Palm Sunday.  These people said, “Lord, if you give me a miracle, then I will believe.” … Have you ever been like that?

Then there was a second group of people that day. This second group didn’t want a religious carnival; they weren’t looking for the Houdini of the Holy Land; they weren’t looking for one more magic trick. These people were much more serious. They were looking for a political revolution. It was like a mass political rally, with all its intense fanaticism. Imagine yourself in Iran or Iraq. And your great political leader and savior has been exiled in France, and you read in all the newspapers and see it on all the television news that your Khomeni is flying back home to Iran after many years of exile.  What a mob at the airport. What a mob in the streets. What a mob everywhere because the great political leader was returning to save his nation. That is the way it was on that first Palm Sunday. There was a mass political revolution, and to understand Palm Sunday, one needs to understand this rising, nationalistic fervor.

The revolution had started years before.  We will briefly examine four dates in this rising political nationalism. It was 63 B.C., and Pompeii was the Roman general who conquered Israel, and now the Israelites found themselves again in slavery after three hundred years of freedom. The Israelites were trying to get rid of the Romans.  The Jews hated the Romans for many reasons.  The Romans made the Jews eat pork, which a Jew would never do. The Romans were forcing them to worship Caesar, which a Jew would never do. The Romans forbade circumcising their children, which the Jews would never do. The Romans were seducing them out of their Judaism. The Jews hated the Romans and there was a revolution going on.

Sometime about the year 6-4 B.C., the great builder, King Herod, who had rebuilt their Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, 150 feet long and 150 feet high, a magnificent temple, turned from being Herod the Builder to Herod the Killer and he ordered all boys two and under to be killed.  The killer king didn’t want any baby messiah being born who would grow up to be a political king.

About twelve years later, Zaduk the Pharisee led a revolution in and around Jerusalem and two thousand of his followers were killed. The Romans strung them up; they hung them up on crosses.  Can you imagine Highway 99, from Des Moines to Seattle, twenty miles of roadway, on every block there were ten men hanging dead on crosses, not for one mile but for twenty miles. Two thousand dead men hanging on crosses for the entire world to see? Would that send a message the Jewish population what the Romans do with political revolutionaries?

And then, on this Passover day, when Jesus came riding into town, there had already been thirty-two political riots …  in five years. Yes, as a young man, Jesus with his fellow countrymen had experienced thirty-two riots, six major riots per year for five years. Can you imagine thirty-two riots in Seattle, in Washington D.C., in a mere five years?  And according to the Bible story for today, they were on the edge of another riot. That is, the town was ready to blow.

In other words, it was political pandemonium. It was chaos. The town was ready to blow up with any spark. We are told that three to five million people were jammed into that town, and it was ready to ignite.

“Hey sanna, ho sanna, sanna sanna hey sanna, ho sanna, Jesus Christ, if you’re divine, throw out those bloody Roman swine.”

And so there were two groups on that first Palm Sunday. There were the religious fanatics who said, “Jesus, give me a miracle and then I will believe.” And then there were the political fanatics who said, “Restore our freedom and get rid of the Romans.” Both groups chanted, “Hosanna to the Son of David.  Hosanna to the Son of David. The king of Israel has come.” And that is the way it was. It was a carnival. It was a circus. It was revolution on the move.

What was Jesus doing? What was Jesus doing with this mass of humanity around him? What was Jesus doing in the midst of this psychedelic kaleidoscope of madness? Was he standing up on the back seat of his chariot and waving to the crowd like some politician? Was he riding on that chariot with arms upward and outward and his fingers spiking a “V” sign for victory? Was he waving at all those people in their second story windows as they were throwing confetti on him? Was he pumping them up with political oratory to get the political revolution moving? No. Here in this cacophony of craziness, Jesus didn’t say a word.  He rode in silence.  Silence.

Jesus rode on a jackass into town. The crowds wanted him to ride on a tall white horse, dignified in the sunlight or on a chariot of war, glistening in its golden trim. But Jesus rode on an animal of peace, not of war.  The crowd wanted him to grasp a sword in his hand and wave that sword to show what he and his followers would do to the Romans, but he had an olive branch of peace in his fingers. The crowds wanted him to give enflamed and impassioned oratory to inspire them into revolution; they wanted the shouts of soldiers but they heard only the songs of children.  And Jesus? Jesus didn’t say a word. Not a word as he rode into that city.

The crowd was chanting at the top of their lungs, “Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna to the King.” And slowly, and gradually, the Hosannas became quieter and quieter and quieter. Then nothing.  By afternoon, another chant had begun, almost in a whisper, “crucify him,” softly, softly, louder, louder and finally bursting with power, “Crucify him. Crucify him. Crucify him. Crucify that man. He’s a bloody imposter. A fake. He’s no king, that’s for sure.”

They had wanted a warrior on a warhorse and instead they got a carpenter on a jackass, and so they killed him and put a poster above his head, “King of the Jews.” Big joke.

That’s the way it was on that first Palm Sunday, on that first Passion Sunday.

It is interesting to me that there were two times in the Gospel of John where the crowds tried to force Jesus to be king.  Only twice. Once, in chapter six, where Jesus had fed the five thousand people. When Jesus caused that much food to be freely available, those people wanted to make him king.  Free food?  Much food? Yes, let’s make that guy king. The crowd tried to force Jesus to become king after feeding the five thousand, but the Bible says he would not be their king and he withdrew into the country.  The second time that the crowd tried to force Jesus to be king was on the Palm Sunday we are talking about. Jesus had worked big miracles, raising Lazarus from the dead and then healing the two blind men. If Jesus had that kind of power to heal, the crowd wanted to make him king. So once again, the crowds tried to force him to be their kind of king, and he refused. Jesus disappointed them twice.

Eventually, the crowds brought Jesus before Pilate and Pilate questioned Jesus. “You are Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews, are you not?”  Jesus replied, “You have said so.”   Pilate persisted: “Are you king of the Jews?  Out with it, are you or aren’t you king of the Jews?”  Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world. My kingdom is not like yours, Pilate. My kingdom is not of this world.”  Then Pilate asked the crucial question: “Well, then, Jesus, What kind of a king are you?  What kind of a king are you, Jesus of Nazareth?”

That is our question today, “What kind of king was this Jesus of Nazareth?”

Tell me, did Jesus live in a palace? Did he live in a luxurious palace?  Did he have a beautiful golden throne on which he sat, like all the other kings? Was his crown made out of diamonds inlaid into gold, like all the other kings of this earth? Did he wear sumptuous robes and have a beautiful queen seated at his left hand? Was he surrounded by valets to do his every beckoning and call? Did he have swords and spears and chariots and armies, like the other kings of this world? No, not at all, for his kingship was not of this world.  That is what he told us.

So I ask you, “What kind of king was this Jesus of Nazareth?”  It is hard to recognize this king because he doesn’t act like a king. He doesn’t look like a king. He doesn’t behave like a king.

For example.  Could you imagine a king doing the following:  Could you imagine a king getting down on his knees and washing the feet of his disciples? Compassionately washing their feet? Shining their shoes like poor shoeshine boy? Can you imagine a king doing such a thing?

Or, what kind of king is this who dresses up like a carpenter, and not only dresses up like a carpenter, but also actually is a carpenter and builds benches and chairs all day long. Have you ever heard of a king doing such plain and ordinary common labor, all day long? Have you ever heard of such a king as this?

Or, what kind of king is it, who goes out and tries to get his subjects to love him? What kind of king does that? He doesn’t act like a king.  What kind of king is it that is like a rejected father, goes out and waits at the fence for his son to come back to him? Or what kind of king is this who like a man, rejected by his wife, goes and tries to get her to come back?  What kind of king is that? What kind of king is it that searches for his lost citizens like a shepherd searches for his lost sheep? Or what kind of king allows you to address him by his first name, which allows you to address him so personally?  The kings I read about like to be called by their glorious sounding titles. And then, to top it off, this king does the ultimate. What kind of king is this, when I have committed a crime, and I am about to be executed for my crime, this king comes forward and volunteers to be executed on my behalf? Have you ever heard of such a king? To die in the place of me? It is absurd.  It is ridiculous. It is absolutely crazy. It does not make any sense. Jesus himself said, “My kingdom is not like the kings of this world.  Pilate, you will never get it.”

What kind of king is this who wants to rule our hearts?  To rule within and not from without? Who doesn’t want outer compliance from his followers but inner love? Who doesn’t want duty, but wants hearts doing the will of God.

What kind of king wants to rule our life styles, our habits, our homes, our marriages, our jobs, our friendships, and our time?  The king wants to rule everything about us. Not by using religious tricks. Not by using political power. This king wants to rule everything inside of us and around us.  What a strange kind of king, indeed.

What a carnival. What a circus. What a mad house. What a mess. Revolutionary madness gripped the city of Jerusalem. There was that group of people who wanted Jesus to be the Houdini of the Holy Land. Jesus. “Hey, give me a sign and I’ll believe. Work a little magic and I am yours.” … But Jesus didn’t do it.  … And there was that second group, that second mob that wanted Jesus to work a political revolution against Roman imperialism. …  Jesus didn’t do it. … Both groups were disillusioned.

There were very few who recognized his kingship, who recognized that here was a king who rules from his cross, whose cross is his throne, who rules through suffering, who rules through suffering love and humility. Very few people recognized his kingship and very few people became citizens of his kingdom.

“Hey sanna, ho sanna. Sanna. Sanna. Sannah. Hey sanna, ho sanna, Jesus Christ if you’re divine, turn my water into wine. Prove to me that you’re not fool, walk across my swimming pool. Jesus Christ, if you’re divine, throw out the bloody Roman swine. Hey sanna ho sanna, sanna sanna, hey sanna, ho sanna.”

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