Like Paola, my hometown of Angleton is a county seat. When I was growing up, the 2nd full week of October was reserved for the Brazoria County Fair, Livestock Show, and Rodeo. The grand opening ceremonies were Tuesday—and began with a parade through downtown Angleton. As soon as my brother and I got home from school—our schools let out right before lunch on Parade Day—my Mom would take us to our pre-planned parade-watching spot.
Waiting in the warm Texas sun, about halfway along the parade route, we would hear cheers, music and drumbeats coming from the distance before we saw anyone or anything. I eagerly anticipated the fair queen contestants riding on the floats representing their high schools. It seemed that they were waving and smiling just at me. I also looked for the convertible cars decorated with school colors and the cheerleaders riding in them, throwing candies to the kids in the crowd. Tootsie rolls and lollipops—those were the tastes of the parade. I enjoyed listening to the different school fight songs played by the bands as they marched by. And I waited with baited breath for the trail riders—bringing up the rear on their horses. The county fair parade appealed to all my senses! As I grew older, I eagerly anticipated the day when I could participate in that parade.
By the time I was a senior in high school, though things had changed. I baked in my band costume marching in the heat of a south Texas afternoon. Playing 2 songs over and over and over on the 1½ hour parade route became tedious. I was, however, always thankful we were in front of the horses! By the time I was a senior in high school, the parade no longer held the appeal for me it had earlier in my life. Was it because I was older? Was it due to years of familiarity? Was it because I was seeing the parade from a different perspective—that of tired participant rather than enthusiastic observer? <pause>
I wonder if Palm Sunday lacks the appeal for us that it once did. If so, is it because we don’t wave the palm fronds—the children do? Is it because our own children are grown and no longer in the “parade”? Could it be we’re in a Sunday-to-Sunday mode—Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday—high point to high point and nothing to ground us in between? Could it be since we already know this story, we only half listen to the scripture? I wonder if Palm Sunday lacks the appeal it once held for us.
Reading today’s text, it surprises me that Mark spends 7 of the 11 verses on the preparations for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It appears “that Jesus has planned the entire occasion in advance.”[1] Riding on a colt, approaching Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, Jesus visually enacts Zechariah’s prophecy. While he rides now into Jerusalem as the humble, servant Messiah, he has been ushering in God’s reign in all the acts of his ministry—his teaching, his healing, and his miracles. Mark’s Jesus is both the humble servant riding to his death in the present and God’s Mighty Chosen One who will usher in—once and for all—God’s reign on earth—in the end times. Mark’s Jesus enacts a parable—turning everything upside down—is he the humble servant arriving as a mighty king . . . or is he the mighty king arriving as a humble servant?
Jesus and his disciples are only a few of the hundreds of thousands Jewish pilgrims arriving in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Many of them will recognize the connection to Zechariah’s prophecy. And who is actually participating in this “parade?” Definitely Jesus’ disciples and others who have been with him throughout his ministry. Probably many of the pilgrims who have encountered him, hearing his teaching and seeing his miracles these last few days on their way to Jerusalem. Those in front of him lay their cloaks or newly-cut branches on the road, giving Jesus the equivalent to today’s red carpet treatment. Both in front and following behind, this group of Jesus’ old and new followers shout cheers reminiscent of the fanfare for King David entering Jerusalem after his military victories. Kind of like a 1st century Galileean “Rock Chalk Jay Hawk!” Through sights, sounds, and smells, the procession appeals to many senses.
On some level, even if only briefly and not fully comprehending, the participants confirm the good news of Mark’s gospel—Jesus is ushering in God’s reign on earth. Through the ministry of Jesus, God is overpowering forces of darkness and destruction—political and religious oppression, hunger and homelessness, illness and death. But this parade group is only a small fraction of the people in Jerusalem for Passover. And I wonder what the other pilgrims—those just arriving from other directions and those already arrived—are thinking as they see and hear the procession. And what about the residents of Jerusalem, I wonder how many of them had ever even heard of Jesus before this day.
Mark says Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the temple. After he looked around at everything . . . he returned to Bethany with the Twelve.[2] In Mark’s gospel, Jesus does not linger at the temple this day—teaching the crowds, entering into controversies with the Pharisees, or chasing off the money-lenders. In Mark’s gospel, those events happen the next day. Why does Mark’s Jesus return to Bethany—where he is spending each night of Holy Week—now? Could it be his reception was not what Jesus was hoping for? Did the parade fizzle out entering the Temple Mount? Is it possible the joyous procession had just been a celebratory diversion until the pilgrims reached their destination, the Temple? Oh, how fickle a crowd can be.
Or perhaps Mark chooses to end Jesus’ day early for a reason. Until now, Mark’s gospel has a sense of urgency. The words, “and then” spring up all over his account like bluebonnets in a central Texas field. “And then” “and then” “and then” drives the story forward at a fast pace. And then we reach chapter 11, when Jesus enters Jerusalem, and Mark downshifts to 1st gear. Why does Mark slow down now that Jesus is entering Jerusalem? Perhaps Mark wants his audience to take time with the narrative to come. Maybe this is an invitation for us to slow down as we enter Holy Week.
Mark’s first 10 chapters relate 3 years of Jesus’ ministry, but the next 6 chapters cover only 1 week. Could it be that Mark wants us to attend very closely to what will happen in the coming week? Returning to the temple the next day, Jesus will publically instigate conflict with the religious leaders. Later in the week he will celebrate the Passover meal with his disciples. Digressing from the standard Passover meal dialogue,he will offer new words—instituting what will become one of our sacraments. He will be betrayed, abandoned, arrested, denied, convicted, beaten, and executed. And all of this will be necessary to facilitate the ultimate ushering in of God’s reign on earth.
If Palm Sunday lacks the appeal for us that it once did, might we reclaim our enthusiasm? For those of us who have been through Holy Week many times over, could downshifting the pace of our lives these next few days offer a fresh perspective not only on Christ’s journey through his last week but also on our faith journey? Might we live with intentionality through this Holy Week by accepting invitations to worship? I invite you to come here Maundy Thursday and—using multiple senses—re-experience the events prior to, during, and immediately following the Last Supper. On Friday, I invite you to remember the crucifixion—either at PACA’s Good Friday noon service at Cross Point or by walking the Stations of the Cross at the Methodist Church at 7pm. If work and family schedules already preclude accepting these invitations, I invite you to become re-acquainted with the Holy Week story found in Mark chapters 11 through 15.
The next few days, I invite you to—and I pledge to you that I will—slow down. Instead of rushing through the Palm Sunday parade headlong into Easter morning, let’s experience every single moment of this Holy Week. Rather than observing, let’s participate. Let us recapture our enthusiasm for this season of the church year not just by remembering events—the controversies, the new commandment, the betrayal, the denial, and the crucifixion. For it is in experiencing the pain and the remorse, that we are truly made ready for the joyful surprise of Easter morning. Amen.
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