A Good Enough Community Parade
Preached on Sunday April 10th, 2022
At Wollaston Congregational Church
Scripture: Luke 19:28-40
This week, as we continue our sermon series “Good Enough” as we encounter the familiar story of Jesus’ dramatic entrance into Jerusalem on the day that has become known as Palm Sunday.
Throughout this series of services and sermons, we have been reminded that God does not desire our personal self-improvement and “living our best lives.” This series runs counter to our culture of perfectionism and individualism. God’s great desire for us, in Jesus, is that we are restored to relationship with one another and with God.
Today we heard the Palm Sunday story from Luke’s gospel. Luke sets Jesus on one continuous journey from Jericho to Bethany to Jerusalem for the feast of the Passover. Jesus just keeps on going, his forward momentum draws himself and the crowds around him toward the holy city.
According to Luke, Jesus initiates the procession down into Jerusalem and to the temple. He goes on ahead, the disciples who follow along. Then Jesus sends two of them to find a colt that has never been ridden. They are given a secret code, so that the owner of the colt will know that “the Lord needs it.”
They bring the colt to Jesus and lift him onto it. And, approaching the rocky, windy path down the Mount of Olives into the city, a great multitude picks up on the enthusiasm. They spread their cloaks on the ground, making a royal path, a “red carpet”. And they begin the chant from the ancient psalm:
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!" Jesus descends the Mount of Olives and enters the gate into Jerusalem.
If you attended Sunday school as a child, like me, you’ve heard this story many times before.
I remember my childhood Palm Sundays with great affection. In the Anglican church where I attended Sunday school, the vicar would hold an ornate cross high, and parade around the nave with the children. We’d go around the side aisles and back up the central aisle, arriving at the chancel and the altar. All along the route he would belt out the hymn, “Ride on, Ride on in Majesty” calling out “all together now!” at the beginning of each refrain. We were given pre-made palm crosses to take home. I would keep mine all year long, displayed in my bedroom as a reminder of that joyful day.
Palm Sunday has all the dramatic elements most children love. I believe that here at Wollaston Congregational Church there was a real live donkey, at least one year, to lead a palm waving parade around the block.
I am all for joyful Palm Sunday parades. They bring us back to the first disciples’ eager expectations for Jesus. The problem, though, is that sometimes our baked-in memories of the Palm Sunday story miss important details. We may have misconceptions about the Good Enough-ness of that first palm parade, and the role of the disciple community.
In the parades of my childhood, Jesus seems high and mighty. He rides into Jerusalem as the great multitudes line his path with their cloaks and palms and cry “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.” Everyone in Jerusalem sees this parade. All the residents come out to join the multitudes. Jesus has come to town!
In my baked-in memories I miss the detail that the colt that has never been ridden, and, as far as we know, Jesus is no horseman. The mount is uncontrollable, veering here and there. Jesus clings on for dear life with only a cloak for a saddle. This would not have been a dignified scene.
Pilate, the Roman governor, parades into town from the west for the festival of the Passover. He is accompanied by the Roman army: horses, chariots and shining armor. He rides on a noble steed, golden eagles on poles held high. He enters on the western side of Jerusalem and takes the wide, straight road to the palace. Citizens and those who want to be seen as loyal crowd the route, waving flags and cheering “hail Caesar!”
Meanwhile, Jesus and the little colt stumble down the steep and winding road from the Mount of Olives. The Good-Enough community of disciples that is rapidly gathering around them crowd the route. They perceive a king in this one, who does not even know how to ride a horse. So much so, that they are willing to allow this colt to step on and soil the only outer garments they possess, their precious cloaks.
When they reach the city wall at the bottom of the slope, they slip through the valley gate and they are a stone’s throw from the temple. There is no route that takes them through the streets of Jerusalem, where they might risk the jeering of the fancy city folk.
A second misconception that I have taken away from my baked-in memory is that Jesus acts alone. Many of the gospel stories we rehearse this season focus on the moments Jesus is away from the disciples. And yet, these moments are few and far between.
At the beginning of Lent we remembered that Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness before his ministry began. And, at the end of this coming week, he will be alone again, when he is arrested and taken away to be crucified.
But from the beginning Jesus gathers disciples who are his community through three years of ministry. He eats with them, talks with them, hangs out with them.
Today, as Jesus leads at first, the followers around him pick up the pace. Even if he is reluctant to go through with this, he cannot stop it now. The crowd’s cheers and cries propel him forward on his mission. When some Pharisees tell him to quiet his disciples, he replies that it would be useless to try. Even the stones are crying out on this day.
In our world today, the culture of individualism and perfectionism wants us to hold onto our early misconceptions. If we perceive Jesus as ruler King, commanding a grand reception through the streets of Jerusalem, he is no different from Pilate representing the power of the Empire. And if we think of Jesus riding into Jerusalem without the companionship and encouragement of his followers, we deny the deep human need for relationship and interdependence.
Now, I know I’ve been talking about my dad a lot these past few weeks. But there’s one more thing I’d like to remember about him. You see, he was a humble man. As the cards and letters began to arrive after he died, and the extended family exchanged words, this remark came up over and over. “Paul was humble.” He was not perfect, and he did not pretend otherwise.
When it came to the community he just fit in. He was happiest at home, drinking his coffee, reading his newspaper and books, listening to the radio, puttering in the garden and tending the roses. His social media footprint was non-existent. My dad didn’t look for leadership, but if he was asked he stepped up. He was content with his Good Enough life.
He belonged: to his church, to two Masonic Lodges, to his neighborhood and to his town. He lived his last years just a stone’s throw from the High School he and my mom attended, and where he served as treasurer of the scholarship committee up until the last few months.
When I arrived at my parents’ house a couple of week’s ago I found that every free inch of space was filled with cards. They were tucked between the books on all the book-shelves. They were lined along the mantle and the window ledges. The family photos were obscured by still more sympathy cards.
And when we arrived at the church for the service, the impression was the same. People kept coming. From my mom’s church as well as my dad’s, from the extended family, from the lodges, long-time school friends, former and current neighbors.
This is what it means to live in a community. Our family was held in love and support. This continued on this side of the Atlantic, as my husband and I received cards and flowers, messages and prayers from our churches, and neighborhoods, and colleagues – including from all of you.
And then, just the other week, a friend told me that his father had died and no one had said anything. There were no cards or messages from his friends and colleagues. The people who knew about his dad’s passing didn’t mention it, because they didn’t know what to say. My friend doesn’t belong to a church and he and his wife recently moved to a new neighborhood. I was stunned and saddened. I could not imagine facing grief with that kind of loneliness.
Kate Bowler, the author our Lenten book “Good Enough” also has a podcast series called “Everything Happens.” In these podcasts Bowler interviews authors, TV personalities, theologians, physicians and people from all walks of life. In the episode entitled “We Belong to Each Other” Bowler has a conversation with Jerome Adams, a former United States Surgeon General.
Adams talks about the human need to share our burdens and the things that cause us grief. He emphasizes the need for community in terms of the health and wellbeing of people, saying:
“When you look at the communities across the world that live the longest, the feature that is the most outstanding is that they have a sense of community, that they gather together, that they lift each other up. If you have three friends who you can call when you’re down, you actually have several years extra of life expectancy.” [1]
Friends of Wollaston Congregational Church, this morning I am thanking God, with all my heart, for the Good Enough-ness and the community of this congregation.
This week, may we view the Palm Sunday story anew, rejecting our culture of perfectionism and individualism.
May we know what it means to accompany Jesus on that winding, rocky route into Jerusalem. May we understand the Good Enough-ness of this Holy Week story, and the Good Enough-ness of our own lives.
And, most of all, may we know that we do not travel this journey alone, but together.
May all God’s people say,
Amen
A Blessing for When You Feel Lonely
“Blessed are we who cry out,
‘God, I need a friend to share the simple unaffected joys that come,
the troubles unbidden, those too heavy to sustain…’
Blessed are we, opening our hands in readiness,
to risk intimacy, to receive the gift of friendship, and give it in return.” [2]
[1] https://katebowler.com/podcasts/jerome-adams-we-belong-to-each-other/
[2] Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie, Good Enough: 40-ish Devotionals for a Life of Imperfection (New York: Convergent, 2022), 154