The Rev. Dan Rondeau

Zechariah 9:9-12 | Psalm 118:19-29 | I Timothy 6:12-16 | Mark 11:1-11a

"You are my God, and I will thank you; * you are my God, and I will exalt you." (Psalm 118:28)

Do you remember the Last Sunday after Epiphany? We had wonderful music (the Side Street Strutters), we had a great preacher in John Guest, to be sure, but do you remember the Gospel reading? Just before we began Lent we went with Peter, James and John to the mountaintop and witnessed the Transfiguration of Jesus. The glory of God revealed in Jesus who then set off for Jerusalem and the fulfillment of his love for you and me. (Mark 9:2-9)

And here we are, arriving in Jerusalem with Jesus during Passover Week. And, once again, in a moment of clarity, we recognize Jesus: who comes in the name of the Lord, who comes as king, who comes as king in simple humility as God's prophet, Zechariah, foretold. "Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest heaven!" shout the people. The crowd before and after Jesus is wildly delirious and festive. "You are my God, and I will thank you, you are my God and I will exalt you!" in the words of the psalmist.

If we take a closer look at the crowd that day we will discover something about their joy, their exaltation, and we will discover ourselves, too.

One of my favorite mystics, Thomas Merton, wrote: "To be grateful is to recognize the love of God in everything He has given us. . . and He has given us everything. Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him. Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God. For the grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience. And that is what makes all the difference."1

The grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience…and that makes all the difference.

Leave your comfortable pew; leave the worries of today. Come away with me and scan the crowd as Jesus enters Jerusalem. Look carefully now; see that little man over there, the one dancing alongside Jesus? That's Zacchaeus. (Luke 19:1ff) Remember Zacchaeus? Jesus found him in a tree; Jesus found him at the edge of the crowd, small, cruel, loathed by many, an outsider. Jesus found him and invited himself to dinner. And what do you know? Zacchaeus was found, Zacchaeus was welcomed in, welcomed to his true home, his true self. Transformed by the words, the touch, and the humility of Jesus.

Look again; see those two women? They're a mother and daughter. They're a long way from home, you can tell. Canaanites; but here they are with Jesus. Remember? The daughter was ill, "demon possessed" they said. This woman carried a heavy burden: ill and an outsider, a Canaanite. The disciples tried to shoo Mom away (not too gently either). Jesus would barely talk with her (he even suggested she was like a dog). But she could see who he was, and so she persisted. Finally he spoke the word she most needed to hear: "Woman, great is your faith!" that's what he said. And the daughter was healed. The outsiders were brought in; healing was completed. The unlovable found love and life abundant in Jesus. "You are my God, and I will thank you." (Matthew 15:21ff)

And, see that woman over there? For eighteen years it pained her to look up. (Luke 13:10ff) Bent over, she learned to recognize people by their feet and the sound of their voice. Even lying in her bed at night she was curled on her side, she could not easily look into the night sky to see the glory of God shining in the stars. It was the Sabbath, a day of rest. The disciples looked on in horror as he called her over and said that she was set free. The joy on her face that day as she stood up straight and began praising God is the same you see today as she shouts her hosannas and turns and dances her way in this jubilant crowd. Separated, whispered about, or worse, ignored, one word from Jesus changed everything that day.

And see over there? It's Bartimaeus. (Mark 10:46ff) He's been following Jesus since that day in Jericho. Blind and begging and easily dismissed he was at the side of the road every day. Lost in the darkness, lost in his own world, hoping that others would help. On that day in Jericho he wouldn't shut up. He called louder and louder until even Jesus noticed him. He couldn't see with his eyes, and those all around him couldn't either. Jesus, however, Jesus could see. Bartimaeus had faith enough to see Jesus for who he was, and so he would not be silenced. And he heard that word of healing and he has been following the Way ever since. Look at him dancing with that once bent over woman.

And over there? Look at that man with palm branches in both hands and the lightest step in his dance, look at the light in his eyes. Not eighteen years, not twenty-eight years, but thirty-eight years he was ill and lost and finally, losing hope. (John 5:2ff) Lame, he longed for healing, he longed for the help of others to find the healing of God in the pool by the Sheep Gate. Not even the crippled around him had room in their hearts for him, they were too busy trying to get into the water first. I don't know how the man held on to hope that long, but he did. Coming to the end of that hope, at just the right moment, Jesus finds him.

What a great day it was. The question of Jesus was seemingly so innocent, "Do you want to be made well?" The next words he spoke: "Stand up, take your mat and walk," changed everything. Literally, Jesus put a spring in his steps. "You are my God, and I will thank you."

In fact, the crowd is full of the once lame, the once blind, the once deaf. Some of these sweet hosannas are shouted by those once mute. There are tax collectors here, see Matthew over there? The Canaanite women brought others. There are Samaritans in the crowd, and you can even see a scattering of Gentiles caught up in the celebration. And that man just ahead of Jesus? He was the only one who came back to say thank you to Jesus as he looked and discovered his once leprous skin, pink and new and clean after a word spoken by him. "You are my God, and I will thank you" he sings with the psalmist.

There's one other woman in the crowd who catches my eye. Today there's a smile on her face and she waves her palm with the others, but I remember her shamed, terrified and tear stained face that looked once at Jesus ever so briefly before she averted her eyes. (John 8:3ff) She's more restrained in her movements than the rest of the crowd, but that is understandable. Caught in adultery, pulled from the bed in terror, her humiliation couldn't have been more complete. Shoved in front of Jesus, naked in front of the whole town, moments away from a brutal and painful death she was a pawn in some bigger game and struggle. Totally lost, judged and found wanting, judged and condemned, hopeless in her shame she heard his words that day. They were words of forgiveness and life. She was found that day. She was forgiven that day. How could she not be here to sing a hosanna to God for his servant Jesus?

I see others here, too, forgiven by Jesus and given a new start, a new life, and singing God's praises because that is what a grateful heart does.

A lot of familiar faces are here in the crowd today. So many in this crowd have sat at the feet of Jesus and listened, just like me, I've seen them there. They have listened to his voice explain that there is one great commandment to be kept, not hundreds of rules and regulations to be observed. Love God with your whole being. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. All the law and the prophets are fulfilled in living this way he said. So many in this crowd have heard him speak in the synagogue, on the road, around the campfire at night. Always, his words seem to go straight to the heart. And everywhere he has spoken, the lost have been found, the estranged have been reconciled, the sinner forgiven, the hopeless strengthened and renewed, those unloved and unlovable welcomed into his embrace. And they are here. "You are my God, and I will give you thanks."

The grateful person knows that God is good not by hearsay, but by experience. And the hosannas cannot be restrained.

There's another group here, too. See them at the edges of the crowd. Arms folded against their chests. There's a darkness coming from their eyes. You know who they are: scribes and Pharisees, moneychangers, and isn't that the young man (he's said to be pretty rich) who thought he wanted to follow Jesus? No hosannas are coming from that group.

Now it's time to come back and look at this gathering. Look within yourself now, and look within our gathering. We're quite a collection, singing Hosanna today. Each of us carries a story of self-discovery, or of healing, or of hope restored, or of forgiveness, with Jesus at the center, don't we? Jesus, the still point of our lives. Jesus, the center of our lives. Perhaps others have brought us to Jesus like the parents who sought his blessing upon their children. Perhaps Jesus has encountered us in our childhood (like those children scooped up and blessed by him one day in his ministry); perhaps he has encountered us in our homes like Mary and Martha and Lazarus their brother; perhaps he has found us in our places of work and our places of play and rest; perhaps he has even found us here, in worship whether we came on our own or were invited by another.

Sometimes we have gone in search of Jesus, and sometimes, perhaps more often, he has come in search of us.

Jesus has found us lost and wandering in wildernesses of our own making, and he has found us cast away, cut-off, and estranged and he has proved to be the Way. Over and over he has proved the Way back to family and community and love, the Way back into the arms of a loving and tender God. We are here today because, thanks be to God, Jesus found us, called to us, welcomed us into his life, welcomed us into abundant life. "You are my God, and I will thank you; you are my God, and I will exalt you."

Let us remember all this as we move further into Holy Week. Let us remember the clarity of our vision, the gratitude that arises from our experiences with Jesus; let us remember the purity of our hosannas today as the week darkens and the rest of the story is told. Let us remember the joy within us today as we walk with Jesus the rest of the way into Jerusalem this week.

Let us remember even on Friday when it seems that evil and death have won. For if we can remember the gratitude that makes us sing today, we might be able to bear the sight of Jesus, arms stretched out in love on the hard wood of the cross "that everyone [even you and me] might come within the reach of [his] saving embrace."2

You are my God, and I will give you thanks; you are my God, and I will exalt you. Amen.

1 Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude, pp. 40-42, 105, 107 quoted in Space for God p. 60

2 A prayer for mission; Morning Prayer II, BCP, p. 101: Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen.