Come with me
for a few moments to a place long ago and far away. We’re going to visit the
old West, the West of the late 1880s – the West of cowboys and cattle ranchers
and outlaws. We’re going to a little town in Arizona. It’s a quiet place where
dust devils swirl and tumbleweeds blow down the main street. The general store
is over here, right next to the saloon. Over there is the hotel, the livery
stable, and the bank; and way down at the end of the street is the church. Some
of the town’s founders are buried in that churchyard. At the other end of the
street are private homes. (The saloonkeeper lives in the biggest one.) It’s a
town where everybody knows everybody else. And today is market day. The general
store is buzzing with activity as people from the surrounding countryside drive
their buggies in to fill up their market baskets. The church has scheduled
special services for that afternoon; and the hotel is full to overflowing. People
are greeting friends that they only see on market days, and catching up on the
latest news: who is getting married, who is having a baby, and who has been
seen keeping company with someone other than his wife! And then, conversation
dies down. All heads turn towards the main street. A group of men is riding
into town. One is clearly the leader. He rides in front of the others; and they
surround him protectively. No one has ever seen him before. Who is this? That’s
clearly the question on everyone’s mind as their eyes follow his progress into
town. Is he an outlaw who has come to raise cain during market day? Maybe he even
has plans to try to rob the town bank! On the other hand, he might be leading a
delegation from the territory, and he is here on official business. Or maybe he
is simply a rancher new to the area who is looking for a place to settle down and
raise a family. The response of the townspeople to this stranger depends on who
he is – and they don’t know that answer yet.
It’s a long
way from the American West of the 1880s to the ancient city of Jerusalem, but
the situation on the first Palm Sunday wasn’t that different from the one in
our little Arizona town. Jerusalem was buzzing with activity – not because it
was market day, but because the Passover celebration was in full swing. The
Temple was full of worshippers all wanting to offer a sacrifice. The
marketplace was full of visitors buying provisions for their visit. The streets
were full of people greeting friends who only saw one another during the yearly
Passover celebration. Into that scene, a man came riding. He was surrounded by
a whole group of people – people who were waving palm branches, shouting
“Hosanna,” and laying their coats down in front of him. And the question in the
minds of the people watching was a familiar one: Who is this? Just like in our
little Arizona town, the response of the people of Jerusalem will depend on the
answer to that question.
He might be
a king. Kings did ride into cities in just this way. When a king showed up,
everyone turned out to swear allegiance to him, and to listen to what he had to
say. Kings dictate what we can and can’t do. They set policy for everyone in
their kingdom! But this man didn’t look much like a king. Kings ride prancing
war horses and are escorted by soldiers with helmets and spears. This man rode
a donkey and was surrounded by very ordinary looking people. They had no
helmets or spears, just their coats that they were laying in front of him as he
passed by. If he was a king, he was a king like no one had ever seen before.
Or he might
be a priest. Priests led processions into the Temple during religious
festivals; and sometimes the worshippers carried palm branches and shouted
“Hosanna!” just like these people were doing. Priests offer sacrifices on
behalf of the people so that we can approach God with confidence. Priests
bridge the gap between the people and God. But this man didn’t look much like a
priest. Priests wear elaborate clothing that sets them apart from the people
and symbolize their religious responsibility; and they chant psalms as they
lead processions. This man was wearing ordinary clothing and looked pretty much
like everybody else! And he wasn’t chanting anything. In fact, he was mostly
silent. If he was a priest, he was a priest like no one had ever seen before.
And then
some of the people recognized him as Jesus, the man from Nazareth in Galilee. They
called him a prophet. We knew all about prophets! Prophets take action on
behalf of God. They relay messages from God to the people, and they remind
those people of their responsibilities. When a prophet shows up, we need to
listen! But this man said things like no other prophet had said before. Instead
of talking about God’s wrath, he talked about God’s love; and he told his
listeners that they should love other people, too. If he was a prophet, he was
a prophet like no one had ever seen before.
Those people
of long-ago Jerusalem had to decide for themselves how to respond to this
stranger who came riding into town. Was he a king? A priest? A prophet? Or was
he just some crackpot from the sticks who decided that he wanted 15 minutes of
fame?
If he was a
king, they should swear allegiance to him.
If he was a
priest, they needed to allow him to sacrifice on their behalf.
If he was a
prophet, they should listen to what he had to say and change their behavior.
And if he
was a crackpot… well, then, they could safely ignore him and his little
demonstration.
On this Palm
Sunday nearly 2,000 years later, we have the very same decision to make. Who is
this man, anyway; and why is he riding into our town?
If he is our
king, then we should swear allegiance to him, and live in his kingdom as
loving, forgiving people.
If he is our
priest, then we should accept his sacrifice on our behalf; although it will be
the sacrifice of his own life.
If he is a
prophet, then we should listen to what he has to say to us, and believe that
his message of self-sacrifice is really from God.
If he is a
crackpot, then we can go home and forget all about him.
The decision
is yours.
Who is this
man, anyway?
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