Jack McKinney
Pullen Memorial Baptist Church
March 16, 2008 – Palm Sunday
Text: Matthew 21:1-11
Living in the Mix
It is hard to know what Jesus expected when he walked out of that wilderness three years earlier ready to begin his ministry. Did he suspect that people would consider him crazy? Some did think that and at one point his family tried to get him to come home and quit making such a public spectacle of himself. Did he wonder if some people would take his teachings seriously and become his disciples? Of course that happened too, though Jesus learned that devoted followers can be as much of a curse as a blessing. Did Jesus expect that someday he would be riding a donkey into Jerusalem while people laid their cloaks in the road and shouted his name? Who knows? It is almost impossible to gauge our own expectations, much less those of someone we only know through the pages of the Bible.
But even if we cannot understand what Jesus’ expectations were on that day people shook palm branches and shouted “Hosanna” at him, there are some things about this story that seem obvious to me. And what seem clear are the things that were important to him.
It isn’t hard to figure out what matters to most of us. Give me your checkbook and calendar and I can make a decent guess at what is important to you. Tell me the last five books you read, your favorite movie, and where you like to eat and I’ll have an even better idea. But if you really want me to know what is close to your heart then tell me about the people and places in your life. Tell me who and what you love and the picture will be pretty complete.
Palm Sunday puts us in touch with the people and the place that were most important to Jesus. He rides into Jerusalem, surrounded by his friends and followers, and it is all right there. The temple, the holiest site to all Jews, would be the location for his final sermons and lessons. The people who had sacrificed all to learn at his feet would be by his side. It is a beautiful scene that unfolds as Jesus comes into town surrounded by all that he cared about most.
Yet, because we read this story each year already knowing the end it is hard to feel happy for Jesus. By the end of the week he will have experienced betrayal and desertion, and that was from the people who loved him. The people who didn’t care for him will call for his execution. And as for the city that meant so much to Jesus, he will end up saying: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matthew 23:37) Can you hear the disappointment in those words? This place that he loves so dearly will reject him. The people he holds closest to his heart will leave him. Does he know all of this as he rides into town listening to the chants of the adoring crowd? It’s impossible to say, but if he did that mixture of emotions would not be unique to Jesus.
The truth is our greatest sadnesses are always connected to the people and places that matter most to us. There is an old quote often attributed to Buddha that says: “The one with fifty loves has fifty losses; the one with twenty loves has twenty losses; the one with no loves has no losses.” In order for us to experience the depth of despair we must first care about something or someone deeply. The loss of something we barely notice is hardly noticed; the loss of that which means more to us than anything else rips our hearts wide open.
But there are different kinds of loss in life, and while everyone’s pain is valid and real, these distinctions are important. To have a child grow up and move away, or to experience the death of a loved one, creates an unmistakable grief. These natural losses in the life cycle can linger with us for a very long time. But there is another kind of suffering altogether when someone or something we love hurts us or rejects us. When we give our heart away and have it crumpled up and handed back to us we are suddenly faced with the greatest of human dilemmas. How do we keep loving the one who has wounded us? How do we keep trusting the one who has deceived us?
There are no simple answers to those questions. I do know that we get a lot of practice with this particular dynamic. Sometimes we are the ones who disappoint those who love us, and sometimes we are the ones who get disappointed. And our instinct in those circumstances is to run away or severe the connection with the person or place that is the source of the hurt. Indeed, there are times when such a separation is the healthiest thing we can do. But most of the time the people and places in our lives that are filled with both love and pain are not discardable. They are just there, and a part of us, and we have to figure out how to live in the mix with them. And they have to figure out how to live in the mix with us.
My models for how to live in this mix of love and heartache are largely in this room. Family members and friends who have extended grace to me when I let them down. Church members who have stayed engaged with one another even during times of serious conflict. I observe relationships in this place and note that few of those relationships are free of scars. We hurt each other and betray each other and reject each other. And, in this same place and in these same relationships, we forgive each other and bless each other and love each other. It’s all right here, all blended together, and usually isn’t very pretty. But it’s real and in some very true sense sacred. God’s presence isn’t manifested in those places where there is perfect harmony. Because there are no such places. God’s presence is manifested in people and places where there is a genuine effort not to give up on each other.
I was talking to a friend the other day who is a pastor. Awhile back I knew this friend was in the midst of an agonizing decision about hiring a new staff member for her church. The search committee had gotten to the end of its work and felt really good about their candidate, but when it came time to offer the person the position the candidate acknowledged a criminal background. And not just a few minor offenses, but some pretty serious stuff that had resulted in prison time. After weeks of wrestling with the decision, my friend’s church decided to go ahead and offer the person the job.
So, I asked her the other day how it was going with the new staff member. She said, “It’s going okay. It’s not perfect, but I think it has a chance to work out well.” But then she said something that really caught my attention: “I don’t really know what is going to happen with this person, but giving him the job may be the most important thing I have ever done as the pastor of this church.”
What I loved about that comment was that my friend was still at a complete loss as to what was the right or wrong thing to do in that situation. And she had no sense of what the outcome was going to be with her new employee. But even so, she believed the act of offering the job was essential for her to do.
And maybe that is the best we can do when we are caught up in the mix of life. When pain and hope are all mixed together, and the people and places that matter most to us are filled with both, maybe the best we can do is to extend grace to one another. And to receive such grace when it is extended. That doesn’t mean we forego hard conversations or stop naming hard truths. It just means when push comes to shove, and we aren’t clear what to do, we simply decide not to give up on the people and places that mean so much to us.
Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week. In these days we experience the highs and lows of what Jesus experienced in his final days. From the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, to the mounting danger at the temple, to the intimate last meal with his disciples, to the midnight betrayal, to the rejection by one of his closest friends, and ultimately to the cross and the empty tomb. It’s all there. These people and this place that mean so much to Jesus will both bless him and break him. And, what do we see him doing in this mix of life? Teaching lessons, washing feet, sharing a meal, and offering forgiveness to those who harm him. In other words, he chooses to extend grace to the very end. Let us make the same choice.