4/3/66

Scripture: read Luke 9: 51-56; 19: 29-42.

Each year, in the early spring time, we come to a day, one week before Easter, which we call Palm Sunday. Many churches (and ours is no exception) have potted palms gracing their sanctuaries of worship on this day. We have allowed it to become a tradition that these represent the branches which people are said to have cut from trees in order to strew them on the way, as Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.

Actually, the Bible accounts say nothing about "palms" in this connection. Two of the gospels do speak of branches of trees which people cut near the roadside to put in the path of Jesus. We often assume that they would have been branches of palm trees. But the gospels do not say so.

The only reference I can recall of "palm branches" is that which is found in the book of Revelation, the 7th chapter, near the end of the 9th verse. There, mention is made of a vision in which multitudes of people of every sort and condition stood before the Lamb "clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands" shouting their praises to God on His throne. But that is quite a different thing from the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

We call the day "Palm Sunday," therefore, out of tradition rather than from any literal reading of scripture. So let us not allow words to stand between us and a grasping of the meaning of the occasion. The day is a celebration of the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem before the feast of the Passover. We speak of it as a "triumphal entry" --- which it is, but only in symbol.

Real triumph, as understood by the average person, would have been entry into Jerusalem upon an Arabian stallion, with a cavalry escort and a fanfare of trumpets. Jesus came along riding a young donkey. He had no escort except a few friends and the people who lined the way; no fanfare except the shout of the folk who watched; no prepared proclamation --- only the fulfillment of an ancient and scarcely-remembered prophecy. The events of the week which followed leave no doubt that the apparent triumph of that moment gave way to grim tragedy -- the greatest and grimmest in man’s history.

It might be noted that Palm Sunday this year has a particular meaning in our time because so much of the future looks dark, as it did when Jesus entered Jerusalem. The spirit with which he turned toward the Holy City is instructive for us in our time. There was a steadily gathering storm of dangerous opposition which he faced when he made known to his disciples his determination. But he "set his face to go to Jerusalem," [Luke 9: 51], daring an unpromising future to do its worst.

His friends, the disciples, tried to dissuade him -- to turn him back, where there was still a measure of safety. He was warned not to go. The Roman governor wanted him to keep still and go home, so that there would be no civil trouble stirred up. The temple leaders would have preferred him silent. His appearance and teaching had already made them enough trouble. His disciples feared for his safety. But when it was clear that no persuasion, however eloquent, could keep the Master from going, it was Thomas who spoke for all the disciples. He said, in one of the great sentences of the New Testament: "Come, let us go, that we may die with him." [John 11: 16]. So, together, Jesus and his disciples dared the worst that a discouraging future could do.

The spirit of the Master is important, because, when we look toward our future, so much of it appears ominous. It is discouraging to many of our young people who plan for college. Many young men know that the armed forces will claim them for some years of training and dangerous duty. They are uncertain of schooling and their plans for marriage and a home are upset. Many of the young folk appear to be saying, in effect, "What’s the use working or planning? It won’t do much good. I might as well have a good time while I can, in whatever way looks attractive." And they are not alone in this, for they hear their elders expressing apprehension and discouragement. The future looks discouraging to older folk, too. People see their savings being whittled down by inflation, and their security slipping away from them through no fault of their own planning. Business men wonder what is the use of exercising their initiative when taxes take all, or most, of the profit. Circumstances in our time have led us to disparage the future. We live under a cloud of uneasiness, knowing that it is entirely possible for mankind, through drifting or by careless judgment, to blow up the whole civilization. And we face that uneasy future with a nameless dread.

Therefore it is important for us to note that a dark future can be either a tomb or a prelude to Easter. That much becomes clear when we begin to see things in perspective. If we look back in time, we shall probably note that every generation of history has had reason to look ahead with some foreboding. To be sure, it is easy to look back, through a haze of distance, to what we call "the good old days." But curiously enough, those who lived in the good old days thought that they really had a bad enough time of it.

If we sing humorous songs about Father Noah and his ark, and how the animals paraded into the ark two by two, we can remember that the future was not bright in the accounts of his day. According to the record, Noah and his family were living in a time when "the earth was corrupt before God; and the earth was filled with violence." Prospects were tough for Noah’s sons -- Shem, Ham, and Japheth. But they did see a rainbow of promise in the sky and they pushed on toward its horizon to find light beyond the darkness of their time.

Glance ahead over the pages of time to the eighth century before Christ, and stop for a moment with Isaiah. He was a young man, well educated, dreaming of things to come when the future did not seem bright. So far as he could see, things were in a bad way. Clouds, with no silver lining, hung over his nation. He complained:

Your country is desolate

Your cities are burned with fire;

Your land -- strangers devour it is your presence,

And it is desolate. [Isaiah 1: 7].

In spite of such gloomy prospect, Isaiah set out to do everything he could by way of warning. Though he failed to change the people very much, it is now clear that there was a prophet among them whose preaching was a prelude to human progress.

If you look to the first century of our Christian era, you will find something really dark. Paul says it was a "perilous time." II Timothy 3: 1]. The world was full of "traitors and truce breakers," and of people without "knowledge of truth." A Christian hardly had a chance! The more devout and loyal he was, the more likely he was to be thrown to Nero’s hungry lions or burned at the stake. If there had been insurance salesmen then, they would probably have shunned the Christians like the plague, for they were certainly a poor risk! But, happily for the experience of all mankind, there were Christians who, like their Master had done, "set their faces steadfastly to go to Jerusalem." And, by dint of their courage and their faith, they cast their vision across the horizons of the future. If you and I are to judge the first century by what those who lived in it said, it was not a bright century. But it is clear that great things came out of it.

In the 16th century, Erasmus, who lived in it then, called the era "the excrement of the ages." It was a rugged time of war and confusion. But the Renaissance was afoot, so that the grimness of that time was a prelude to an age of learning. The 17th century was labeled, by one who lived in it, "a wicked and paltry age." Nevertheless it was the Pilgrims who, out of that time, opened the doors to a new world. We know that there were men of courage who made the 17th century an era of invention, discovery, progress, and growth, during which men pushed out the frontiers of the world. The poet, Cowper, spoke of his time in the 18th century as being so bad that "the props and pillars of our planet seem to fail." And Rousseau complained of "this great rottenness amidst which we live." Nevertheless, there were great souls in that day who turned a dark century into a time of growing freedom and enlightenment.

When we begin to see our own times in perspective, it is fairly obvious that our era, like every other period of history, looks toward a grim-appearing future. But it is just as clear that a dark future can be either a tomb or a prelude to Easter dawn. If there are enough people in our time who will "set their faces steadfastly to go to Jerusalem" they may still leave a creative mark upon "the shape of things to come," and turn our dark and threatening future into an Easter dawn.

The behavior of Jesus on the first Palm Sunday suggests his faith that, when things look blackest, the possibilities are greatest. When he rode into Jerusalem, he was under no illusions. What some people expected from him represented a popular hope. But what he really stood for was not popular. However he knew that what he did stand for was the key to a better future. And the possibilities in the situation were incalculable. Jesus was confident that, if for the moment he "lost his try" for the heart of the world, he would win it in the end.

He could have saved his own life then. He could have avoided the cross; it was not inevitable, if he had decided not to go to Jerusalem, but to remain a quiet teacher up in Galilee. He could have led quite a respectable existence in Nazareth. But he chose to go down to Judea and to enter Jerusalem; to pass down its main street, to cleanse its temple; to go to Gethsemane, Pilate’s judgment hall, the cross on the hill of Golgotha and death between two thieves with a prayer of forgiveness on his lips. It took courage for Jesus to volunteer, for God’s sake, to set himself against the ugly evil of his time. But it took more than courage; it took a faith that, when things are blackest, the possibilities with God are greatest. History illuminates the insight that his faith was abundantly justified.

It has often appeared that a black future has inspired bright courage and a quest for hopeful possibilities in the darkness. A half century ago, on August 3, 1914, King Albert of Belgium was given a German ultimatum to allow the German army free passage through his country and thus to escape destruction of the Belgian land. The alternative was a forced passage; and the outcome of resistance could hardly be in doubt. But King Albert never hesitated, and the passage was refused. Belgium was crushed at the time but, in speaking of it afterward, Albert said that Belgium had been "cornered into heroism."

It appears true that courage is proportionate to challenge. The promise of a dark future can be a stimulus calling out great powers to meet it. There is an old saying that "the North Wind made the Vikings." Certainly it is true that the cold winds of circumstance have been the instruments with which God has fashioned great character.

A Jewish philosopher named Spinoza was going blind at his job of grinding lenses for a living. At that very time, he was writing his greatest philosophy. John Milton wrote his greatest poetry when blindness made his future darkest.

Settlement of the New England coast of our own United States was made secure by Pilgrims who faced an exceedingly bleak future. They had already suffered severe persecution before they ever sailed on the Mayflower. Their crossing on that little sailing vessel had been uncomfortable and dangerous. They came ashore in the beginning of winter. They endured such extraordinary cold, disease and shortage of food that half of them died before spring could relieve them. Survivors had faced starvation, invasion, economic collapse, danger of Indian raids, even treachery of friends. But their character was such that they stayed, when it might have been possible for at least survivors to return to the old country. Their faith persisted even when things looked darkest. We are the heirs of the possibilities that William Bradford and his fellow colonists saw in a grim day.

I. We will do well to note that the future belongs not only to those who know that, when things look blackest, the possibilities are greatest, but to those who believe in God’s purposeful destiny of mankind even when the world seems to be going nowhere. When Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem" he stood in the tradition of the prophets, believing that God is the Lord of history. He spoke, incessantly, of the Kingdom of God, as if it were the goal of everything. He was always talking about it. As he saw it, no matter how things seem, a person is either for or against the Kingdom. And therein lies the meaning of life. Paul put the truth this way: "The whole world groans and travails in pain even until now, waiting for the revealing of the sons of God." [Romans 8: 22, 23]. How can any person face into the blackness of the future with courage if he sees neither meaning or purpose in his striving? One must be able to see that history is going some place with its sound and fury.

While Thomas Carlyle thought of the universe as "a huge, dead, immeasurable, steam engine," the best he could do was to defy it. When, however, he came to think of the universe as being "the living garment of the living God," he was able to trust it. In that faith he found courage and power; and in the end he came out to an everlasting "Yea" rather than an everlasting "nay." It is tragedy in our time, and in our lives, that so many people say no rather than yes.

Nobody envies youth if it faces only a great "no" in life. It is the "yes" which sees and affirms meaning, that puts meaning and zest into life for young people and for the older folk as well.

The novelist George Moore, in one of his writings, describes a collection of Irish peasants, poor and starving, who are put to work building roads to keep them busy and to burnish an excuse for feeding them. So they built roads to the bogs and into the marshes, going nowhere. And Moore says, "The road that leads nowhere is difficult to make, even though starving men are employed upon it; for a man to work well, there must be an end [or aim] in view." So the future belongs to those whose courage is sustained by faith that life is going somewhere with meaning, even while much of the world appears to be going nowhere but into trouble.

If we are going to take the dark future that appears before us, and help to turn it into an Easter dawn, we shall have to understand, with Charles Beard the historian, that "the world is not just a bog in which men trample themselves in the mire and die, but something magnificent is going on here. And the challenge to human intelligence is that of making the finest and the best in our heritage to prevail." Courage doesn’t come out of a vacuum; heroism does not appear from nothingness. Courage and heroism, which is anything like that of Jesus, requires faith that, under God, "something magnificent is going on here," and we are meant to be a part of it.

II. It should be noted, too, that the future belongs to those who see and trust the best, in the worst times. When Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem," and when he entered the city in that little procession of triumph, he went in the faith that the best things in living have their roots in God. Truth might seem very feeble as a weapon for dealing with the temple police; and goodness does not appear very forceable beside men bearing swords. But truth will last. Love might appear altogether helpless before a mob shouting "Crucify him!" But love will last.

Jesus bowed before the evil power of Caiaphas, and Caiaphas condemned him. But history condemned Caiaphas, and gave the future to Jesus. The Romans condemned Jesus to the shame of a rough hewn cross and death with thieves; but history shamed those Romans and glorified that cross. The noblest things are not so feeble as they seem. They become mighty with the strength of God. It is a realistic fact of history that the future has belonged to those who went on living for, and believing in, good things in bad times. Paul went right on writing letters to people about the Christian faith while he was in prison. So did Bonhoeffer in the time of World War II. The noblest treasure we have from bad times are those letters. It was so with John Bunyan. Suffering in the dark misery of Bedford prison, he went on dreaming and writing about great things, good things, in "Pilgrim’s Progress." What is more, it is our faith in good things in bad times that keeps us going.

A letter came home from a young fellow who was fighting on a moving front in war time. The letter was addressed to his mother. It read:

"We have been fighting for two weeks now without a stop. I have a beard like a son of David, and I can’t remember when I had a bath. Out in front of me, as I write, are several dead mules. The odor is awful."

Then he goes on with just a touch of whimsical humor:

"I’m not sure whether it is the mules or me. Sometimes I wonder what keeps me going, but now I know. Out there among the dead mules are wild flowers peeping up through the long grass. They remind me, at least remotely, of our garden and you."

Wild flowers peeping up through the long grass. They suggested home and love; priceless things that even dead mules and war’s straining, suffering cruelty could not crush or destroy.

If we see discouraging days and a bleak future, it may revive our hope to remember that long ago (and yet so realistically that it was only yesterday) a man of faith and courage, with the light of God in his eye --- looked squarely into the future, "set his face steadfastly to go to Jerusalem," and pushed his way steadily into that city. He believed that, with God, when things look darkest, the possibilities are greatest; and the future belongs to those who believe life is going somewhere when the world appears to be going nowhere. Now, when some of the going appears ominous to us, he calls across the ages: "Follow me."

Come one --- let us follow him! the Christ of our lives.

Let us pray:

Our Father, we have seen so many visions of ourselves as we ought to be, the hills we ought to climb, the deeds we ought to do. Go with us, we pray, as we enter days that lie ahead. Grant that we may not be heedless of Christ’s call nor prove false to the vision that we have treasured from the past.

Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord. Amen.

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Delivered in Wisconsin Rapids, April 3, 1966.

Also at Waioli Hui’ia Church, April 7, 1974.