Sermonstudio

Character
This is intended for the pastor to deliver to the congregation.

Music Suggestions For Passion/Palm Sunday
"It Is The Cry Of My Heart"
"We Sing Our Glad Hosannas"
"Hosanna, Loud Hosanna"
"King Of Kings"
"Lord, I Lift Your Name On High"
"All Glory, Laud, And Honor"

Pastor: I know you must find it unusual for a young person to be speaking to you on this high, holy day that you call Palm Sunday. You sometimes sing a hymn called "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna, The Little Children Sang." Please don't think it to be unusual; it's only fitting that a child is here telling you an eternal story.

I want to tell you a story about the first Holy Week from my perspective. Today, I'll tell you about my first Palm Sunday. Actually, in your perspective, it would be the first Palm Sunday ever. Traditions have changed a lot since that first Palm Sunday. Come Good Friday, I'll tell you what it was like to see Jesus die. On Easter, I'll tell you the end -- or the true beginning of the story. This story does have a happy ending if you still proclaim to have the hope in resurrection that you say you do. You still proclaim hope in the resurrection, don't you? Good ... I have always known that this is an eternal hope and truth.

"Hosanna" was nothing I sang with joy as much as I sang it in desperation. If you can imagine that words have double meaning, well, "Hosanna" had a double meaning. The first Palm Sunday was not a party -- even though we did celebrate on that day. It was a party, a parade, and a cry for help all in one. Things were pretty desperate for us to scream out, "Hosanna!" You know "Hosanna" means "save now." To ask for Jesus to save us immediately, things had to be pretty desperate. "Hosanna" is a cry for help. My dad was about ready to crack under the unfair rules that the temple put on us as a family. I don't think we could have taken another Passover like the ones we had in the past. We were poor and desperate folks.

I was ten years old when I saw Jesus ride into Jerusalem. I was one of the children who ran alongside the donkey and draped my coat over him for Jesus to sit on. Our coats were all we had to prepare the way for our king. I remember how much Jesus really seemed to enjoy having my friends and me run along beside him, and hearing our screams of "Hosanna." He was smiling. But now, when I think about it, I can tell you he had a faraway look in his eyes as if what was happening in the moment did not matter. What we were asking was not a "quick fix" request, even though we wanted Jesus to save us right then. It is hard to tell you everything that happened that day, because I only knew what was going on from a child's point of view.

I can only tell you why I think we were screaming, "Hosanna!" at the top of our lungs. I was with my family on that day. I think you might have heard of my father, Simon.

It was close to Passover, and my family was coming into the temple. We were a poor family from Cyrene. It was difficult for us to celebrate Passover, because each year, when we tried to offer our doves as a sacrifice for the cleansing of our sins, the scribes and Pharisees would tell us that our doves were not perfect, they did not meet the right standards, and they took them from us. They offered us the opportunity to purchase doves that were more "suitable."

Most of the time, we had to go back home because we couldn't afford to buy another dove. I will try to explain it to you in a way that is clearer for today -- it would be the same as you being refused forgiveness of your sins because you weren't rich enough to buy forgiveness when you came to church. I did not like the way things were run in the temple because it did not seem to be fair. I thought God's forgiveness was offered to all, not just to those who could afford to buy it. I did not like what it did to my family for us to be turned away from the temple. When the ritual of sacrifice for forgiveness cannot be done from one year to the next, some begin to think that they are unforgiven and worthless. We were certainly treated that way. I was taught that true religion is what freed us to love God and our neighbor that opposed the way we felt each time we left the temple. We felt like we had to earn, as well as, buy God's forgiveness.

I remember my family singing a psalm that made sense to us especially when we could not go through the ritual of yearly sacrifices ... "You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and contrite heart. O God, you will not despise." It seemed that all we ever had to offer God was a broken and contrite heart. That is Psalm 51, and we knew it as a psalm that we sang, knowing that God looked at our hearts and not at how much we had, or did not have. I don't think God expected us to be rich to go to the temple. I don't think Jesus expected us to be, either. Our only lifeline of knowing that we were not despicable people was that God did not despise our broken and contrite hearts.

I think the religious leaders expected us to be rich. One year, I remember that we were able to purchase a dove and we were pleased that we could afford it. We did not have to hang our heads and go home. They had taken our doves from us to begin with because they were not perfect enough -- in their opinion. I knew this was going to happen. They did this every year. I remember that I had made a small mark in the beak of one of our doves -- not so you could see or anything, but one that only I knew was there -- and wouldn't you know it, we were sold the same dove that we were told was not good enough! We purchased our own dove -- the one we had just given to them! That dove had the same mark on his beak because I put it there. We were ripped off. I was so furious! And there was nothing I could do. I was just a child. The religious leaders were doing this to everyone. They were putting us in a powerless position where we had no voice. Pardon me for saying this, but I didn't think religion was supposed to do that to anyone. At least they were doing this to everyone, not just my family. I can understand why Jesus was so furious when he went in and overturned the tables. He knew what was going on, too. I can understand why he called them a den of thieves because that was what temple was to me. I don't want to get ahead of myself, though ... because he had not yet gone into the temple to cleanse it on the day we paraded into Jerusalem. However, I was sure that his cleansing of the temple was a part of our cries for help being heard. He was saving us. At least he could fly into a holy rage and get away with it. The religious leaders already thought he was crazy -- and he broke all of their rules.

I tell you all these things about the religious leaders of my time because when it came to the yearly rituals of forgiveness and cleansing of our hearts before the altar of God, if we were not able to participate, we were cast out and treated as scum. It was very important for us to participate in this, as a community and as a family. We wanted to be accepted. We would be seen as unforgiven and unforgivable. There were a lot of us who were treated like scum. It was almost as if there was a whole community of people who were considered to be the filth and scum of the earth, and yet what had we done? We were just poor, and we were deliberately kept that way from what I could see. I mean, what government strips its citizens of their belongings and then turns around and sells that same property back to them at an outrageous price? Isn't that deliberate oppression? Is religion supposed to be an oppressive power? I thought true religion was supposed to allow people to be free to love God and their neighbors.

Things were pretty horrible for my family and for families like mine. We needed Jesus. We were desperate. What we needed was Jesus to save us right then. Hosanna! Save us! Save us now! NOW! Hosanna! This was not some selfish thing we were asking for. I knew that Jesus loved me. I knew that he cared for me. I knew that he loved the poor. I knew that he also had connections to those in the temple who treated us like dirt and that he showed them the same kind of love he showed us. Maybe he could do something. Maybe he could save us. We started to chant, "Hosanna!" We chanted it with determination and conviction. We chanted it at the top of our lungs.

All of us gathered around Jesus like you see the team gathering around a coach, carrying him on their shoulders. I think we would have put him on our shoulders, but Jesus rode in on a donkey, sitting upon my coat. There were hoards of us running and screaming, "Save us now -- Hosanna!" Can you hear the crowds in your mind? Can you hear what I was a part of? If you can imagine the crowd at a football game ... you can imagine the loud chanting of Hosanna. It was a party, a parade, and a cry for help all in one. We had such hope that Jesus could save us. We had such hope that Jesus could overthrow our religious government and make it into something more bearable. That's what the parade was about. We thought we had a king. We were a crowd big enough to overthrow the religious government if we only had a king who would take our side. Jesus had to be our king. This parade was nothing like I had ever seen before.

I know you all know the end of this story. But, sometimes it's important to hear what it was about then. We weren't thinking of 2,000 years ahead, we were thinking of what our immediate needs were. When I think of what we were trying to do with Jesus on that day, we were looking for a quick fix. We were looking for relief from a problem that ran much deeper than making Jesus a king in the same way you would elect a president. We wanted our problems to go away. "Save us now" was really our cry for help, our cry for a quick fix, and our cry to be delivered from poverty. I think that is the way I understood it. That is why we formed such a crowd around Jesus and we were ready to have an inauguration on the same day. That is not what Jesus had in mind, however. Jesus was not really about taking sides as much as he was interested in a level playing field for all. Jesus wanted the oppressed to love the oppressor, and he wanted the oppressors to love the oppressed -- love would erase the levels of class and hierarchy, and all would be seen as equal and loved children of God. Jesus had a better plan. You will see that in time, as I tell you my story.

I don't know if you can hear, "Hosanna" any differently now that I have told you about the desperate circumstances. But I hope that you can hear that same cry from people like me today. Can you hear the cries of the poor and the oppressed? Can you hear the cries of the outcasts and the people your society treats as scum? Can you hear the cries of those who are deliberately turned into scapegoats? "Hosanna" is a cry of desperation by people who are in pain, whose only hope is in God. Perhaps Jesus wanted everyone to cry, "Hosanna" because he simply wanted everyone to realize that their only hope was in God. The oppressed and the oppressors only have one hope. Have you cried this prayer to Jesus? Have you been so desperate to cry, "Save us now"?

I've wondered about this desperation cry ... that perhaps it is time for the church to cry this cry again, at the top of its lungs. Hosanna! I've wondered if this could even be the cry of your heart? I go from church to church every year telling this story. Is there the same sense of desperation for Jesus to save you now? Can you imagine what it was like for me? Can you join the crowd that I'm a part of and start chanting, "Hosanna"? Can you take the same journey with me?

Palm branches and all of these things that we laid out on the road to prepare the way for the Lord, those were only symbols. Today, I would tell you to treat yourself as a garment or as palm branches to be spread under Christ's feet as he enters in.

I have so much more to tell you about this week, but, I'll tell you on Friday. I want to tell you my whole story of who Jesus is to me. Take this journey with me.

*This is part one of a three-part monologue series using the same character. The other pieces are See How He Died and Do You Believe? by Amy Jo Jones.