Sermon preached by The Rev. Dr. Harold T. Lewis

SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA PALM SUNDAY, 2007

"The disciples brought the ass and the colt, and put their garments on them, and Jesus sat thereon." (Matthew 21:7)


I was channel-surfing the other day, trying to find something to sort of look at while downing a quick breakfast, and ended up on The Movie Channel. The film playing at 6:30 a.m. was "Gulliver's Travels." I was delighted that I had stumbled across a fairy tale. I knew at once that I would encounter no violence, that the plot would be simple, if not inane, beginning with "once upon a time" and ending with "they lived happily ever after." I also knew that I could safely switch off that part of the brain that does analytical thinking. This would be pure entertainment. But a few minutes into the film, I found that Mr. Swift's time-honored tale was perhaps more profound than I had bargained for.

You will remember that Dr. Gulliver, on his voyage from England to the East Indies, has fallen overboard and has been washed ashore on an island which turns out to be the Land of Lilliput. The Lilliputians, of course, are tiny people, so small that several of them could fit in the palm of one's hand. While Dr. Gulliver is lying unconscious on the beach, an army of miniature men tie him up. When he awakes, he finds himself surrounded by hundreds of archers, and the king of Lilliput himself with several greater and lesser courtiers in his retinue, all of whom are trying to decide Gulliver's fate. They are loath to release him, for fear that this giant will do them harm. "You are, after all, the enemy," announces the prime minister. Gulliver responds, "No sir, I am not the enemy, I am just different." Then the prime minister retorts, "It's the same thing."

"It's the same thing." There is a human penchant to fear, to mistrust people who look different, or who live, act, dress, or even pray differently. People have gone to war over such differences since time immemorial.

If we are to understand the Passion, we must see it in terms of warring entities, in terms of the clash between different factions, and Jesus manages to find himself in the middle of all of them. First there was the cultural/religious problem. Judaism was the state religion, and the high priest, Caiaphas, was about the business of jealously guarding his prerogative as priest-president. Jesus, traipsing about the countryside healing the sick and raising the dead offered a new and different paradigm for religion. Jesus was different. He was the enemy. He had to go.

Then there was the political clash. Jesus was being tried, among other things, for being the King of the Jews. Although Pontius Pilate finds no fault in him, the people gently remind him that "we have no king but Caesar." Pilate realizes that his boss, the Emperor, would not take kindly to the idea of a rival king, and that he, Pilate, might find himself out of a job. So he gives in to the crowd's demand that Jesus be executed. Jesus was different. He was the enemy. He had to go.

The third conflict differs from the first two in that it involves not two sets of people, but one. The third conflict is an inner conflict that exists in the hearts of the populace. The crowds believed that Jesus was the king --- that is, that he was the Messiah who had come to set Israel free from the yoke of the Roman Emperor. They saw Jesus as their liberator from oppression, a messiah who would be their political hero, who would cause heads to roll. This is what Jesus' triumphal entry was all about. So intent were they that this was Jesus' role, that they didn't notice that Jesus rode into town on a donkey. Had he been a general, he would have chosen to enter Jerusalem on a beautiful and stately stallion.

The donkey showed that Jesus was a humble peasant on a peace mission. The same dumb beast who had been responsible for carrying Mary and Jesus at the beginning of our Lord's life is now seen as his means of transportation at the end of his earthly life. In this act, Jesus is consistent. He yet again lifts up the lowly, and identifies with the outcast, even the lowliest and dumbest of animals. So when the people figure out that their Messiah thinks he can conquer evil with peace, humility and non-violence, they have second thoughts about him. They would rather resort to violence and power. So less than a week after they cut down palms and strew them in his way, shouting "Hosanna," they cry instead, "Crucify him!" Their fervor, enthusiasm and support lasted just about as long as the palms did. No longer green and moist and fresh, they had turned yellow in the sun, and had become dry and brittle, just like their hearts. Jesus' goals were not in line with theirs. Jesus was different. He was the enemy. He had to go.

My friends, this morning we have all participated in the reading of the Passion. Whoever decided that the congregation should recite the parts of the crowd didn't come up with that idea because it was a nice dramatic touch. By praising our Lord in one breath, and demanding his crucifixion in the next, we are reminded of our own shortcomings, our own fickleness. We are reminded that like Caiaphas, we often hold the institution above the Gospel. We are reminded that like Pilate, we can all too frequently become fair-weather Christians, choosing to "stand up, stand up for Jesus" only when it is convenient and not too embarrassing, choosing to belt out the words "O for a thousand tongues to sing our dear Redeemer's praise," but opting not to praise God with the one tongue God has given us. Is Ash Wednesday too distant a memory? Do we not remember, in the Litany of Penitence, confessing to God that we have not loved him with our whole heart? Have we forgotten owning up to "the pride, hypocrisy and impatience of our lives?" And how about "uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us?" Those whom the Lilliputian prime minister equated with the enemy?

But the good news is that we are not left to wallow in our misery. As we enter Holy Week, and contemplate the mighty acts of the Passion, Death and Resurrection of our Lord, it has never been truer that we "offer our selves, our souls and bodies to be a reasonable, holy and living sacrifice." It is in the shadow of the Cross, more than anyplace else, that we learn that "there is a wideness in God's mercy." It is on that "green hill far away" that we learn, like the penitent thief, that "he died to make us good."

Let us pray: At his dear feet I'm kneeling, My sins I now confess; I bow in deep repentance, My soul He'll surely bless, My blinded eyes He opens, So that the light I see, And when I reach the pearly gates, He will remember me. [LEVAS 34] AMEN.