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Written by Everett J. Bassett
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Sunday, 09 April 2006 |
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Mark 14: 1-11
I never quite know what to feel about Palm Sunday. My first impulse is to feel joy. It is, after all, a party; and everybody loves a party. The way the scriptures describe it, and the way the church has celebrated it for centuries, singing and dancing and shouting and waving decorative palm branches are in order. We Christians like to recall any moment when Jesus was lifted up, because heaven knows we see plenty of occasions in the Bible story when he was criticized, challenged, and plotted against. Here he was, riding into town like the winning team in the World Series returning to its home city to a ticker tape parade. We shout Hosanna on Palm Sunday.
But there is so much more to the story. We are looking back now, and we know a little more about what the parade of palms really meant. First of all, it is one of the courageous acts of all history. It is a conscious decision on the part of Jesus to enter into the arena of mortal danger - he was riding into the city of his death, and he knew it. If he had an agent or a handler, like so many famous people do today, they might say something like, "Listen. You've got the Galilee vote sewed up; your numbers are rising in Samaria, you've got some buzz going in the North Country, and growing momentum in Judea. If you sit tight now, the movement will grow around you, and then in a year or two, you'll take it to the city, and no one will dare challenge you."
But Jesus wasn't here to sit tight. On Palm Sunday, just as things were getting untracked, he rode into the face of his opposition, in a way that they could not ignore, in a way that was almost certain to lead to violent death. So part of me wants to shout to Jesus on Palm Sunday, "Stay away. You know this cannot end well for you."
Another part of me wants to shout to those people - the ones lifting the Hosannas, putting their coats on the road to make a path for him, and waving their branches. "What are you thinking? Don't you see what is happening?" Has there ever been a time in history when so many people got it so wrong? This palm party they were throwing was not something new they were just thinking up. This kind of reception was what they would do for a general returning victoriously from battle, or a king coming to claim his kingdom. So let's say there were some in the crowd who were just there for the party. It was a fun diversion from your Sunday morning chores. At least some in that crowd were there because they thought Jesus was the general who would lead them to war; or they thought Jesus was the king who would restore their political fortunes. This was about battle; about triumph; about freedom.
Here's what they should have noticed. There was no army with Jesus - only a somewhat befuddled, very contentious group of followers from the country. There was no armor or weaponry - only the simple dress of the road. And there was no dazzling steed sporting brilliant colors - only a donkey, the symbol of humility and simplicity. That's what they missed, or misunderstood, and no doubt some of them were disenchanted when the whole thing seemed to fizzle. It didn't last, this party. And you have to wonder, as many have, whether some of those very people who shouted Hosanna! on Sunday, also shouted Crucify Him! on Friday.
But put aside all those reservations from we who know the whole story of Holy Week. Palm Sunday was a beautiful thing, and even knowing all that we know we should celebrate it as a beautiful thing - it was an act of devotion that didn't last long - but it was an act of devotion nonetheless, and we do celebrate it. Still, the story moved on. And I'd like to pick up that phrase - 'a beautiful thing' - because Jesus said it a couple days later, and applied it to another act of devotion - one that was more closely connected to the true meaning of that fateful week in his life.
As Mark tells it, Jesus was having dinner with a man known as Simon the leper. And a woman came in; she is not named in Mark; the Gospel of John calls her Mary, sister of Martha; Luke calls her a prostitute; and there is a later tradition that she is Mary Magdalene. But whoever she is, she does an outrageous act. She takes an alabaster flask, filled with precious nard oil, and breaks it, and pours it over Jesus' head. Take what you make in a year, and figure about 90% of that - that's how much this flask and oil were worth in that woman's day - the Bible said it was worth almost a year's wages. Jesus' critics went nuts - and there were always critics around, at this point. How could he allow this kind of waste to take place? And then there is the conversation about the poor, which is totally misinterpreted today; I've preached about that before. But here's the verse I want to lift up today:
Jesus said to them, "Leave her alone: why do you trouble her? She has done a beautiful thing. .. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her."
It occurs to me that both the waving of the palm branches and the breaking of the flask were beautiful acts of devotion. And like the Palm Sunday crowd, the woman didn't fully understand all that was happening, the way Jesus could, and the way you and I can from our perspective 2000 Easters later. But the woman's act was special and beautiful because it was a sincere and costly act of devotion. She will never get that money back; she surely knew she would be scorned by the men around her; but at that moment none of that mattered; it was her devotion to the Lord that compelled her.
So what will this week mean to us? For most people, it will mean a party. They will come to church on Palm Sunday, and shout Hosanna, and they will dress up and come to church on Easter, and shout Hallelujah! And then, like that crowd on Palm Sunday, they'll move on from the party fairly uninspired by the whole thing.
But the heart of the story is what takes place between the Sundays: Jesus shares a Last Supper with his disciples - becomes their servant and washes their feet; becomes their sacrifice and shares his Body and Blood with them. Jesus kneels down in the Garden of Gethsemane and pours out his earnest prayer to live - but resigns to do what God wants him to do. Jesus betrayed, and arrested, and mocked, and denied, and beaten, and sentenced, and killed. And all the while forgiving the very people who were doing these deeds; forgiving the very people whose sins he was carrying on his back. There is so much there that challenges us to respond in some way.
And where is the example of that response? Do we talk imitate Peter, who denied Jesus? Judas, who betrayed him? The religious leaders, who plotted against him? The disciples, who ran away? Or do we talk about an unknown woman who did a beautiful thing for Jesus - gave all she had, for no other reason than her devotion to the one who had touched her life; to the one who would give everything to her. This is the only time I know of in the Gospels where Jesus points to a person and says, remember what she has done. And I want to remember that woman and what she did this week, and I invite you to consider the same.
I don't know about you, but before Lent begins I give some thought to what I should give up, or what I should add. And I consider what will fit my busy schedule, and what I can afford, and what I might even find the willpower to do. When I think of an offering to God in general, I look at the budget, and the calendar, and figure how it will work in with what I see as my God-given goals in life. In other words, I am constantly calculating what I can give.
I don't think this woman did any of that. I just think she poured out the best that she had for God - I don't think she gave it a second thought. If she had had ten times as much to give to the Lord she loved she would have done it. It was a beautiful thing. The people around her said, "Wait! You've got to count the cost. That's too much." And Jesus said, "No. It's no time for that. Can't you see I'm dying? Can't you see she's anointing me for my tomb? Can't you see that it's this act of devotion that will last?"
So many times I have been content to be in the Palm Sunday crowd, picking up the palm branch as the Master rides by, and then, once he's out of sight, going back to my same old self until the next religious moment. And looking for the general, or the king, who will attack the enemy and save the day.
How I long to be, instead, like that woman who gave her all. She didn't see a general; she saw a Savior. She didn't count the cost; she gave what she had. She didn't care what anyone thought. As a result, she will never forget that moment, and she will never be forgotten. Once all is said and done, only the gift of total devotion will truly last.
I want to give that kind of gift to Jesus. I want my love for him to be so pure that it never counts the cost; that it never wonders what others will say. I know he deserves it. You know that, too. What holds us back? Thank God, nothing held him back. He gave it all for you and for me and for God in that Holy Week - and that is truly the most beautiful thing of all.
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