Palm Sunday Sermon

All Souls, Berkeley

Palm/Passion Sunday

Luke 19:28-40

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 31:9-16

Philippians 2:5-11

Luke 22:14 – 23:56

There’s a book that we read over and over again at my house. Actually, there are a lot of those, but the one I’m thinking of is The Easter Story by Brian Wildsmith.

It’s a children’s picture book and I love it for two reasons: first, it has the most amazing illustrations, the kind that set your heart to singing; and secondly, because it is a wonderful telling of the Easter story for children that in no way dumbs down the events from Palm Sunday all the way through the Ascension.

I also love it because it tells the story through the eyes of a donkey – without ever once skirting into cheesy or cutesy. Instead, we see all the well-known events unfold with the donkey as the constant witness and presence.

He begins the story close to Jesus gives him the ride into Jerusalem. And then as the story progresses we see the donkey always present, but always in the distance—close enough to witness the Last Supper through a window and watch Jesus pray in the garden as the disciples slept snuggled around his warm body, near enough to hear the accusations of his trials and gaze at Jesus on the cross—but always separated from him. Until it is time to take Jesus down from the cross and then it is the donkey who carries Jesus’ broken body to the tomb.

Like the women who prepared spices and ointments, the donkey returned to the tomb and saw the angels who said, “He is not here. Here is alive again.” And then he stayed with Jesus’ friends as they lived into the mystery of Easter until Jesus ascended, returning fully to God.

It is only then that one of Jesus’ friends took the little donkey back to his home, where he lived out the rest of his life, re-membering the story of Jesus.

It doesn’t take much to see that in this story we are the donkey. And, yes, I am aware of the myriad jokes found in that statement.

But the truth is, that like the book that is read and over and over in my house, we here come together to read and hear the same stories again and again. And just like the donkey, we re-member again and again—as a way to make meaning and to remember who and whose we are.

But we are not yet ready to return home, so today we pause and remain with the confusion, horror and pain of the crucifixion and tomb. We will not stay here long—just as Jesus did not—and like the donkey we will soon live into the fullness of our story and spend the rest of our lives both looking back and living forward.

In the poem The Poet Thinks about the Donkey, Mary Oliver put it this way:

On the outskirts of Jerusalem

the donkey waited.

Not especially brave, or filled with understanding,

he stood and waited.

How horses, turned out into the meadow,

leap with delight!

How doves, released from their cages,

clatter away, splashed with sunlight!

But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited.

Then he let himself be led away.

Then he let the stranger mount.

Never had he seen such crowds!

And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen.

Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.

I hope, finally, he felt brave.

I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him,

as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.

(from Thirst)

Seriously, if it weren’t for those pesky Commandments about idols and other gods and worshipping them, then I would totally bow down and worship Mary Oliver because time and again she is able to see to the heart of things and put into words the stirrings of my heart.

Not especially brave, or full of understanding…

Then he let himself be led away…

Still he was as he had always been…

I hope finally he felt brave…

He lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward…

We are the donkey.

Nothing special, or so it seems, except that we carry, each of us, a piece of God within us, just as the donkey carried a piece of God on his back. We don’t have to be brave or full of understanding, and yet, there is hope that we will continue to grow into the people God wants us to be, and we do that by putting one foot in front of the other and joining the story and mission of God to bring justice, compassion and reconciliation into this world.

And so, that is where we are today. We are walking in the midst of the story, our story. We are carrying Jesus. We carry him with us on the good days when we hear the shouts of Hosanna. And we are carry him with us on the not so good days when the pain of the world pushes down. We carry him with us on the days in between as we, like Jesus, speak truth to power, eat and celebrate with our friends and families and pray in our gardens.

It is now up to each of us to make space this week to really walk and re-member the story of Jesus. Thursday begins the Triduum—the great three days of the church year, spanning Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday.

Come to these services and be present to witness and partake in our greatest story. Wash the feet of another on Maundy Thursday. Immerse yourself in the nearly incomprehensible sorrow and love of the three hour service on Good Friday. Walk from darkness to light and celebrate the first Eucharist of Easter at the Vigil Saturday night and rejoice with those who will be baptized.

We are the donkey, and so this week let us be like the donkey, an abiding presence to the events that will lead us into the mystery of Easter.

~AMEN~