Written on March 7, 2008

[For the March 16, 2008 lectionary: Palm Sunday - Matthew 21:1-11.]

IN THE CROWD by Larry Patten

A few years back, preaching on Palm Sunday, I tried to be funny.

Tried and failed. Wasn’t it interesting, I mused in the sermon, that in the Gospel of Matthew (but not in John, Mark, or Luke) Jesus entered Jerusalem riding two animals at the same time? I embellished the moment with words and gestures, attempting to help people visualize Matthew 21:6: “The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.”

There you go. He sat on “them”. Mark and Luke only have a colt. John, hedging a bit, claimed it was a donkey’s colt. But that’s still singular!

Why did the writer of Matthew have Jesus straddling two different animals? An easy answer was Matthew viewed Jesus’ life as the fulfillment of Jewish prophesies. One of those “predictions” came from Zechariah. If you read Zechariah 9:9, with its longing for the coming of a humble king, you’ll run across a reference to . . . one animal. But Matthew, interpreting that ancient verse, conveys it so literally that he puts Jesus astride multiple mounts.

In my New Revised Standard Version translation, Zechariah’s statement is: “riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

Whoa! I could imagine interpreting Zechariah’s verse so that three animals were provided for Jesus’ needs. Or two. Or one. Poor, poor Matthew. Whatever translation or interpretation he used, Matthew decided to play it safe.

As I recall, only a few laughed at my failed efforts to be funny. Maybe it was because people didn’t get my humor. Or maybe it’s because the people in the pews were smarter than me. They knew Palm Sunday was serious.

And it is about serious choices. Every year, as Palm Sunday inaugurates Holy Week, I attempt to put myself in the midst of those folks welcoming Jesus. Whether it’s Mark’s low-key “many people” or Matthew’s more enthusiastic “a very large crowd,” what do I feel? On Palm Sunday, every Gospel writer places me (and you) in the crowd.

Last Saturday, I spent nearly three hours calling strangers in Texas. I was part of a “crowd” across the country that volunteered to contact other voters—in this case Texas—to encourage voter participation. I wanted, in some tiny way, to make a difference for Barack Obama. (Oops, now you know whom I am supporting in the presidential primaries.)

I was nervous. Cold calling strangers. Interrupting their day. How dare I tell ‘em what I believed. Mostly I dislike “political” calls. If the call is recorded, I hang up. If the caller is reading a prepared script, I hang up. And yet I also respect the call and the caller if the stranger contacting me is sincere.

I was given six pages of names to call in or around the Gulf Coast town of Palacios, Texas. Other volunteers were around me, their fingers punching in Lone Star area codes and their voices rising and falling as they encouraged people in Dallas or Laredo or Wherever to consider Obama. I started figuratively walking the streets of Palacios (also known as the “Shrimp Capital of Texas” according to the town’s Chamber of Commerce).

I made about 125 calls. And I talked with one person—count ‘em, 1—who was interested in Senator Obama. One other person, a die-hard Republican (“Everybody in this household has always been and always will be Republican.”), listened politely for about five seconds and our conversation ended. Whew.

I bet 80% of my calls went to disconnected numbers or phones that rang and rang and no one ever answered. Mid-way through, I wondered . . . has Texas outlawed answering machines? I did leave some messages, but I’m not exaggerating that 80%.

My earlier anxiety was unwarranted. Except for one guy in Texas’ Shrimp Capital, I never got to share why I thought someone should vote for the Illinois senator. What I should have worried about were my fingers going numb from punching so many disconnected numbers.

But I made a choice. I don’t have anything against Mike Huckabee, John McCain, or Hillary Clinton. All fine folks. But I wanted to do something for the candidate I’m supporting. Did I? Did calling all those numbers matter? I think so.

As Holy Week begins, we start in the Palm Sunday crowd. It is easy to just watch. Or, like Matthew, to try to ride a donkey and a colt.

But our life, and the invigorating life of our faith, is about choices. In every Gospel, Holy Week—Palm Sunday through Easter—gives a detailed account of Jesus’ actions. I don’t think the details are there as a history lesson about Jesus. They are there to help us choose if we will stay in the safety of the crowd or risk the call of faith.

in Peace,

Larry