|
|||
 |
In sermon preparation, various methods may be helpful in making
the text “memorable,” that is, worthy and able of being remembered.
Some great African-American preachers have modeled the effective use of a
repetitious phrase throughout the sermon. An appropriate narrative with a
strong concluding scene or response used at the beginning or end of the sermon
has long been a means for prolonging the impact of the text in the mind and
hearts of the listeners.
Sometimes an image or metaphor serves this memorable purpose.
I have attempted to use this method to creatively come at a familiar text
that most have heard before (at least once a year for sure) and cause the
congregation to listen to the text in a new and, perhaps, different way. The
image of the donkey in this Palm Sunday passage serves this purpose. I have
preached this sermon in a variety of contexts over the past few years, and
persons have come up to me months and years later and mentioned the symbol
of the donkey and the impact of the passage. This homiletical method can be
an effective one if the image is consistent with the message.
One final word of explanation—preaching sometimes involves
physical movement (e.g., the preacher leaning forward or backward, raising
one’s hands, moving from behind the pulpit to the left or right). When
the physical movement has little to do with the message being spoken, it becomes
a distraction and creates competing “noise” for the hearers. Some
preachers pace back and forth on the platform in an effort to be more personable
or animated in their preaching. It often hinders rather than helps. When the
movement fits the context and meaning of the message, it can be an effective
complement. In this sermon, there is opportunity for some purposeful movement
to enhance the contrast between the two kingdoms. I hope that appropriate
places are evident in the manuscript.
Do you have pet peeves, those little things that other people
do that bother you to the point of aggravation? I have just a few. One was
eliminated when both of my daughters graduated from adolescence and stopped
wearing my clothes. The other is still with me. I hate fickle sports fans,
those fans who support their team when times are good, but abandon them when
things begin to go bad.
I love baseball. I am a faithful Kansas City Royals fan. Lately,
that has been an exercise in faith because the fortunes of my team have been
anything but royal. I love going to the ballpark to support them. I stay to
the very end, even when it is bitter!
Kansas City fans are notorious for leaving early. They start
heading for the exits around the sixth inning, with a third of the game yet
to be played. I am tempted at times to stand in the middle of the aisle and
order these fickle fans to return to their seats. Can’t you just see
me standing there with my open palm lifted high with authority, “GO BACK
AND SIT DOWN! THE GAME ISN’T OVER YET!”
My classic Royals memory was of a Thursday afternoon game several
years ago when two all-star pitchers were scheduled to play, Nolan Ryan for
the Texas Rangers and Bret Saberhagen for the Kansas City Royals. I was at
the ballpark early as a surprisingly large crowd of over 30,000 fans found
their seats. The game was not a disappointment. The pitching was superb and
the score close. But as was the usual practice, people started leaving around
the sixth inning with the Royals down by only a run. In the seventh inning
more left. In the eighth even more headed for the parking lot. By the ninth
only a faithful few remained. I, of course, was among those who stayed.
In the bottom of the ninth inning the Royals trailed by one run. The first
batter of the inning made an out. The faithful few grew restless. The second
batter was retired. The faithful few prepared to leave because an immediate
end seemed inevitable. Then the public-address announcer heralded the appearance
of a pinch hitter, “Now batting for the Kansas City Royals, Carmelo Martinez.”
The few fans around me began to curse, kicking half-empty beer
cups, and questioning the sanity and parentage of the manager. “Carmelo
Martinez? He can’t hit his way out of a paper bag!” And they were
partially correct. They all doubted, but I believed. As a lonely voice in
a sea of doubt, I began to cheer, “Carrrr . . . melo! Carrrr . . . melo!”
Carmelo stepped to the plate and took a pitch for strike one. The next pitch
was a ball. The third pitch was in his favorite spot, and the ball exploded
off his bat like a rocket and didn’t stop rising until it landed in the
left field bleachers for a home run! The game was now tied, and the faithful
few now rose in unison and cried, “Carrrr . . . melo! Carrrr . . . melo!
Carrrr . . . melo!” He was our hero.
The game proceeded into extra innings. The faithful few remained.
The tenth inning passed, then the eleventh. In the bottom of the twelfth,
it was Carmelo’s turn to bat again. The faithful few, who had doubted
before, now believed. We knew Carmelo would end the game with another home
run, and we could all go home. He strode confidently to the plate. His first
swing was a strike, but we were not deterred since we knew Carmelo only needed
one swing. The second was also a strike, a curveball to be exact, and the
primary reason Carmelo finally retired. But we were still undeterred in our
enthusiasm. We believed! The third pitch came. It was in his favorite spot,
and he swung with all his might. But instead of landing beyond the fence for
a home run, the ball landed securely in the catcher’s mitt for strike
three. And the faithful few, excluding me of course, began to curse aloud,
kicking anything and everything in sight, and requestioning the sanity of
the manager for leaving Carmelo in the game.
Carmelo Martinez started out as a goat. He became an instant
hero and, after exactly three innings, returned to being a goat again. Boy,
talk about fickle! After all, Carmelo’s only human.
Why did this happen? It was all about expectation. The first
time Carmelo came to bat no one (except me of course) expected anything from
him. The second time he came to bat everyone (including me of course) expected
everything from him. When he failed to live up to the crowd’s expectation,
he was immediately returned to goat status.
Our text for today is about a fickle crowd. The text is a familiar
one. It is the account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on that day we
have come to know as Palm Sunday.
(READ THE TEXT)
I am intrigued by the dynamics of that day and the week that
was to follow. As Jesus rode down into the valley and up the hill to Jerusalem,
the crowds were ecstatic in their praise. “HOSANNA! BLESSED IS HE WHO
COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD! HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST!” They threw their
cloaks on the ground and waved branches in adulation. It must have been an
incredible scene.
Yet, just a few days would pass before some of those same people
would stand in Pilate’s courtyard and lift their voices in scorn as Pilate
asked them, “What shall I do with Jesus?” “CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY
HIM! WE HAVE NO KING BUT CAESAR!” What could Jesus have done in those
few short days that would cause them to change their minds and allegiances
so dramatically? I have thought about that question a lot, and I think I’ve
found an answer. The clue is in their expectation, and the answer is in the
donkey.
Before you think that I’ve lost my mind, hear me out.
In Jesus’ day, when a king wanted to impress or intimidate his subjects
with his power, authority, and charisma, he would ride in a royal procession
on the back of a great and mighty steed with the aura of a conqueror. All
would bow in subservience to this overpowering symbol of might. But when a
king needed no proof or intimidating symbols of power, when a king only needed
the truth of his character as symbol of his authority, he came gentle, riding
on a donkey. In Jesus’ day, the donkey was a noble beast. They didn’t
insult each other by using the donkey’s name, nor did they ridicule anyone
who rode one. Our text today tells us that Jesus came riding into Jerusalem
on a donkey. But I am convinced that everyone saw a mighty steed instead.
The crowds who were there that day sang songs of praise, and
Jesus ascended the hill to the city gates. Their songs were messianic songs
reserved for the one who would deliver them from Roman bondage, who would
restore the kingdom of Israel to her glory days when David ruled and her citizens
could go anywhere in the world with their heads held high. They wanted the
prosperity they dreamed their messiah would bring. They wanted a king with
power and might. They saw in Jesus their messiah riding into Jerusalem on
a great and mighty steed. But Jesus came riding on a donkey.
The Pharisees who were there that day were afraid of Jesus.
He challenged their power and authority and threatened the status quo of the
religious system they worked so hard to maintain. Unlike the crowd, the Pharisees
sang no messianic song. They saw a maverick prophet whose words and deeds
had the power to start a revolution. These Pharisees, who were no friend to
Jesus, saw Him riding into Jerusalem on a great and mighty steed. But Jesus
came riding on a donkey.
Even the disciples who were there that day had expectations
for Jesus. What they were experiencing was pretty heady stuff. They heard
the crowd’s adulations. They were present when Peter made their confession
that Jesus was the Christ, the Messiah. They had visions of power and authority
dancing through their heads. Even on the way to Jerusalem they had argued
about which one of them would be greater when Jesus established His kingdom.
Not long before, the mother of James and John asked Jesus to allow her sons
to sit at His right and left hand in the Kingdom. They were fully in favor
of the request. Jesus asked if they were ready to “drink the cup”
he was “going to drink.” They replied with a hearty “We can”
(Matthew 20:22). James and John dreamed of powerful seats of authority, thrones
next to Jesus—one on the right and one on the left. But Jesus knew that
what awaited Him in Jerusalem was not a throne, but a cross—with one
on the right and one on the left. Even the disciples, who had been with Jesus
throughout His ministry and had heard Him speak of His suffering and death,
saw Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a might steed. But Jesus came riding on
a donkey.
(For the balance of this sermon manuscript, go to www.preachersmagazine.org.)