"Open for me the gates of righteousness; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord"
And so here we are, approaching the end of Lent and moving through the gateway of Palm Sunday into Holy Week.
But what a strange gateway Palm Sunday is.
It's a topsy-turvy upside down sort of day, a day when it's difficult to decide on how we're supposed to feel, at least it is for me. I know how to feel on Maundy Thursday which is sort of pensive, a bit ill at ease with a sense of foreboding.
I know how to feel on Good Friday, because although it might theologically be "good", humanly speaking its desperately sad. And of course Easter day brings no problems at all - can there be a more joyous time !
But today strikes me as a bit odd - the theme appears to be one of great festivity, people shouting "hosanna", waving palms of celebration in the air, throwing cloaks on the floor and being full of praise. But there's also a sort of brooding undercurrent, an ominous whiff of hypocrisy, a creeping fog of duplicity and betrayal.
We know it's there, we can sense it - for in amongst the people who are celebrating the entry into Jerusalem of the Son of David, are people who in a few days time will be shouting to crucify him.
We know that of the twelve disciples walking beside Jesus, enjoying all the excitement and glory of the moment, one will take money and betray Jesus to death, with a kiss.
We know that the disciple whom Jesus called the "rock", will deny even knowing him - three times.
And we know that the rest of the disciples won't even stay awake and watch with Jesus in his final agonising hours in the garden of Gethsemane, and that they'll all run off as soon as trouble comes.
Yet here they all are, and here we all are, walking beside our Lord, having a jolly good time - enjoying a moment of glory.
Jesus comes, travelling from the Mount of Olives down into Jerusalem fulfilling Zechariahs prophecy concerning the coming of Zion's king, a king that will proclaim "peace to the nations and whose rule will extend from the River Euphrates to the end of the earth".
This King comes in humility, rather than great glory; his army is composed of disciples who will betray him and kinsfolk who honour and condemn him within the same week. His standard bearers are local folk waving palm branches, and his red carpet of honour consists of the cloaks and shawls of the crowd, thrown onto the dusty floor before the feet of his war-horse - a colt, the foal of donkey.
"God-with-us" comes into his city in such a way, to love and serve his people in a way that no great King, Queen, President, Prime Minister or Chief ever has, or ever will do.
And I wonder - has there ever been a more subversive picture of what true faith, glory and power consists of ?
When we watch the leaders of today's world on the TV, preceded by armies, body guards, riding in luxury, often with their faces on posters, placards, and wined and dined in sumptuous surroundings - are we witnessing true greatness, or something of a hollow sham - glory for glories sake ?
Whether we watch the monstrosity of President Mugabe parading around in his finest clothes while 80% of his people have no work and are dying of poverty, or whether it's the American Presidential campaign with it's ticker-tape, cavalcades and rock-music fanfares - what we're watching has little or nothing to do with true greatness.
Indeed what we're witnessing is a profound poverty of greatness, a bleakness, a "sham - glory". We're staring into a yawning chasm that divides human ideas of what power and glory is, and the truth of real power and glory as revealed to us through the events of Palm Sunday.
So much for the world of power- politics. It's easy to say the leaders have got it all wrong, that they should in all humility give themselves up for the people they purport to serve, but they're not going to - so what about us ?
Are we not called as Christ's people, to model the way of our Lord to those around us, and if we are, how can we do it ?
A few weeks ago we had an opening meeting to discuss the future development of the Priory building.
Every aspect was open, and continues to be open, for discussion - from what sort of chairs we should get, to issues concerning the lighting, access for wheelchairs, the sound system and so on.
The Priory building is a critical part of what this church community has to offer to the local community, and indeed to pilgrims and tourists passing through.
It's critical because it's the clearest and most visible sign of God's presence, his majesty, his glory and power, in this town. When people see this building from the outside, they know that God has touched people here, and that their response has been to build and maintain this magnificent place of worship.
And when / if they come inside, they begin to make judgements on what this God might be like, and they do that by looking at what they find and considering what it might mean, what it might say.
As the custodians of this building its up to us to ensure that it reflects something of the character and nature of the God who rides into the city on the back of donkey, surrounded by people who say they love him but when it comes to the crunch betray and deny him, but who loves them just the same, even unto the Cross.
God is the God of all people, the disciples, the on-lookers, the betrayers, the un-believers - all journey with Christ from the mount of Olives, into Jerusalem, and finally to the hill of Golgotha. For many Malvern people, pilgrims and tourists, this building must be a place that speaks to them in words, symbols, and structure about true glory, majesty and power, as revealed in and through the King of kings, Jesus Christ our Lord.
As one illustration of the danger we might inadvertently run into, I'm aware, perhaps you are to, of the story of the young boy who came into this place last year after riding his skateboard on ramps we'd provided as part of an open day for young folk. He said to one of the stewards, "I didn't think we were allowed in here".
Why did he say that ? Did he think that this place was to good for the likes of him ? Did it speak more of the vain-glory of the world, than of the true glory of the God of Palm Sunday? And if he felt that way, how many others might feel the same ? How many other folk see this place as a majestic building that speaks more of human skill and endeavour, than the reflection of a God majestic in his love and humility?
We've more than the building to consider, however, when we reflect upon the Palm Sunday King of kings.
We need to consider how the living stones that populate this place also speak of the
God of Palm Sunday, the God who subverts human concepts of power and glory and
offers in there place the glory of loving service and sacrifice.
Obviously there are things we can do and say as individuals that might hopefully reflect something of the God of Palm Sunday in our own lives, but I'm thinking in particular about what we might do and say together as a Christian community worshipping in the heart of Great Malvern.
Jesus's ministry was worked out firmly in the middle of the dust, grime, messy-ness and ordinary-ness of every day life.
No comfy palace for this king, no quiet gardens to stroll in after a busy day shaking hands and chatting to folk, no servants to cook his meals, clean his clothes, and put toothpaste on his toothbrush before bed.
This king spent each day and each night amongst the people he served, those who loved him, those who were indifferent to him, those who despised him.
He lived the same physical lives as they did - what sort of a king has ever done that ?
So the question for us is, how do we as the body of Christ witness to this beautiful sovereign, this gracious Lord, here in Malvern ?
On that first Palm Sunday the people recognised Christ as a sort of King, probably recognising in the imagery he invoked the prophetic words of Zechariah, and they lay palm branches, boughs and foliage of other trees, and their cloaks at his feet.
St Andrew of Crete (a 7th century monk and archbishop of Crete), in his Palm Sunday address writes,
" Come then, let us run with him as he presses on to his passion. Let us imitate those who have gone out to meet him, not scattering olive branches or garments or palms in his path, but spreading ourselves before him as best we can, with humility of soul and upright purpose. So may we welcome the Word as he comes, so may God who cannot be contained within any bounds, be contained within us".
How do we witness to our gracious Lord who comes to us in all humility and grace ?
Simply by offering ourselves to his purposes, and not our own. And his purposes do not include maintaining any kind of distance between himself and the people he came to serve, even the ones who betrayed him, jeered at him, flogged and crucified him.
Therefore, whenever the Christian community in this place comes together to talk about how to witness to our faith, one thing is very clear - the guiding principle must surely be the removal of any barriers that come between the King and people.
Whatever individual pieces of work we do to proclaim the gospel of Christ, the principle must always be to make straight the paths, to raise up valleys and lay low the hills, that the King of kings may be clearly seen in amongst his people - not at a distance through either bullet proof glass or indeed, acres of stained glass.
I began this address by saying that Palm Sunday confuses my emotions, should I be joyful, or should I be sad ? Nothing has changed in terms of the story - the same hypocrisy, duplicity and betrayal lie beneath the celebrations, but in the course of writing this address, I think I've changed. Here comes my King, in full knowledge of what I'm like, knowing in my sin I'm going to betray him again and again and again. Yet still he comes, still he comes, still he comes - a King journeying toward a throne not made of gold inlaid with precious stones - but a throne made of crossed wood, studded with cruel nails and crowned with twisted thorns. A King whose glory is in humility, whose power is in forgiveness, whose majesty is in eternal love.
Yes, today is a topsy-turvy day - what sort of a King comes to his people like this ?
My King, our King, the King of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen.
And so, am I sad - not a chance - Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna to the King !
Amen.
Ian Spencer
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