Only a child can truly absorb the joyous impact of Palm Sunday. Many teenagers have grown too cynical to appreciate a parade. Adults are skeptical, for we know all too well the rest of the story. We have stood too many times with tiptoed expectation, awaiting the motorcade of some messianic politician or religious leader who seems to embody a new era of righteousness for our troubled times. We know what it means to witness the crucifixion of our heroes: an assassination in Memphis, a resounding defeat at the polls, the stagnation of political process, the death of a saint. We adults have, likewise, been tempered by realism in the church. We have weathered many religious trends that were touted to be vessels of spiritual transformation: lay witness week-ends, crusillo gatherings, Bethel and Disciple Bible experiences. None of these have ushered in the Kingdom. We, therefore, avoid excessive enthusiasm at religious parades.

This day has been christened by the church calendar with two names, indicative of our ambivalence on the first day of Holy Week: today we observe both Palm and Passion Sunday. Two moods; one story. We try to capture the essence of the narrative concerning Jesus’ entering the East Gate of Jerusalem riding upon an humble donkey. Our children, carrying palm branches, have begun our triumphant act of worship, enacting the biblical story. But the scriptures of Christ’s passion remind us of the movement from shouts of "Hosanna in the highest; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" toward the equally vociferous demand, "Crucify him!" Two responses to the same Jesus. This is why services upon Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are often poorly attended. We would prefer to bootleg our theology around Calvary and move directly from palm branches to Easter lilies. We would like to fantasize, on this perfectly beautify spring day, that God is in the heavens and all is right with the world. Life is beautiful as long as we can block out the mention of passion, pathos, or tragedy.

But the profundity of Palm/Passion Sunday is the way in which the gospel story reflects real life and real life imitates the gospel narrative. Jesus orchestrated the whole scene as he departed from Bethpage over the Mount of Olives, setting his face like flint toward his destination -- Jerusalem. He knew that the ancient prophets had envisioned a time in which exiled Judah, bruised and beaten by Babylonian conquerors, would return to this treasured city through the leadership of an anointed one. Thus, Matthew made reference to a prophecy quoted by both Trito-Isaiah and Zechariah late in Hebrew tradition: "Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humbly, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey."1/

Have you ever been in such an ecstatic crowd as that day? The population of the city always tripled upon the beginning of Passover. The pilgrims were flesh pressing flesh as they gathered upon the ribboned road leading down the mountain near Bethany. Thousands had arrived from Galilee to encourage their home-grown prophet. They treated Jesus like royalty, placing fine garments upon the beast and cushioning the path with tree branches. They screamed at the top of their lungs with words reserved only for military heros or kings, the likes of Zerubbabel or Judas Maccabeus: "Hosanna to the Son of David!"2/

The racial and ethnic hatreds within that crowd probably exceeded the hostility in Kosovo, Serbia, Bosnia, and Croatia combined. The hot blood of hostility raced through the veins of the Zealots who were looking for opportunity to start guerrilla warfare against the Romans. The Sicarii clutched daggers concealed under their flowing garments. Herod’s temple, glistening in the morning sunlight, was an anathema to these revolutionaries. When Jesus entered the court of the Gentiles and drove out the money changers, these supporters assumed that this was their messiah. But the day of the palms concluded with this anticlimax: "He left them, went out of the city to Bethany, and spent the night there."3/

Perhaps only the children in the crowd had absorbed the mystery and majesty of this holy moment. They celebrated the joy of a man on a donkey, making a mockery of all those arrogant military commanders who had presided over other parades in Jerusalem. The children knew that this man was not like other famous or important men. He did not ride upon a glorious white steed, high above the eyes of children. He carried neither sword nor dagger. He was a man of compassion and peace. After day’s end, he journeyed to Bethany, the village of the poor. The Jewish children of Jerusalem and Galilee lived a stark life of oppression and violence. Somehow they knew that day that this one was truly with them.

Palm Sunday is a day of paradox which reminds us that life’s tragic dimension is the window through which we see the glory of God shining through the form of Jesus who enters our circumstances of pain and suffering.

We awakened this morning to the news of bombs falling over Belgrade, rumors of ethnic cleansing, and many other horrors that infest the world. What is the response of those of us who wish to follow faithfully the man of Nazareth who rode into Jerusalem on a donkey? We dare not "dress up" the passion story and look for happy endings. In a world of violence we choose to follow the man of peace upon that donkey. In a world of greed, we choose to pursue the way of the man who emptied himself, taking the form of a servant. In an ugly world of inhumanity and cruelty, we choose to shout, "Hosanna anyhow!" For the blessed One has come and is coming. His way of compassion, though temporarily defeated by a cross, will have the final victory.

There is something hauntingly simple, yet profound, about the film honored this week, "Life Is Beautiful." Critics of the movie state that the story trivializes the holocaust -- the most tragic episode in the Twentieth Century. If the holocaust were the theme of the film, I would concur. But this cinema presented a totally fictitious story about a young Jewish father and husband who refused to succumb to the ugliness of a sinful world. He and his wife operate a modest bookstore in a picturesque town during the era of Fascist Italy. When the Axis powers approved of the "final solution" (Hitler’s plan to exterminate the Jews), this family was arrested and placed in a Nazi death camp. The movie introduced to the English speaking world Roberto Benigni, a well-known Italian comedian. Roberto’s character is a compassionate father who successfully persuaded his son that the imprisonment was actually a temporary game in which those who sacrifice self-interest win a real army tank. In the end the father dies in order that his son and wife might live. He empties himself completely. He even laughs in the face of incomparable evil, demonstrating that life is really beautiful.

We too live in a paradoxical world where terrible things happen to the best of people. Just a few years ago the members of a certain United Methodist Church in Alabama gathered for Palm Sunday worship. The little children assembled for the opening processional. As they clutched their palm branches and began their procession, a roaring sound interrupted their movement. In a moment a tornado had flattened the entire sanctuary, killing many worshipers, including the tiny daughter of the pastor.

On Palm Sunday the followers of Christ continue to gather in festive array, not to pretend that tragedy does not occur, not to hide form the reality of evil in this cracked creation, but to sing "Hosanna anyhow!"

The paradox of Palm Sunday was profoundly expressed in an early hymn recorded by the apostle Paul when he addressed his friends in the congregation of Philippi. Some of these people had been contentious. Some had been arrogant and cruel toward those who were from a different culture. Paul appealed to his brothers and sisters to take upon themselves the mind of Christ. If we wish to experience the beloved community, if we want to experience the true beauty of life; we must follow the way of Christ. The hymn then described the man upon a donkey: " . . . in the form of God [he] did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness."4/

In Benigni’s film, the one person whose spirit was not shackled was this compassionate father who guided his son and wife toward their survival. Life is beautiful, not because we are oblivious to the reality of human tragedy and the malignant power of pervasive evil. Life is beautiful because God takes the form of a perfect servant, giving his life in order that we might know eternal life. Life is beautiful because this servant has called into being a blessed community of self-giving servants -- the Church. Thus, no situation is ever hopeless. No tragedy is too great for us to bear. No hurt is so harmful that we are destroyed. Even the knowledge of some looming evil cannot cancel our present joy!

Nearly ten years ago our family attended the Passion Play in the Bavarian village of Oberammergau. This drama has evolved over the centuries, beginning immediately after the catastrophic plague of 1633. The village had been devastated by the many deaths. But, throughout the tragedy, they had felt the abiding presence of the spirit of Christ who suffered with his people. The villagers collectively decided that, in gratitude to the graciousness of God in sparing their village, they would dramatize the story of Christ’s passion, inviting neighboring villagers to be their guests. Visitors now come each ten years from around the globe to witness this presentation.

One of the most memorable scenes at Oberammergau is the depiction of Palm Sunday. Hundreds of the town’s citizens participated in this scene daily for five months. Children were recessed from the village school just in time for the triumphant entry.

On the day we attended the performance, these German kindergarten children had gathered at an outdoor fountain near the sculptured form of a life-sized Jesus upon a donkey. These children danced barefoot in the water and reached over to tough the feet of the statue. In that beatific moment of summer flowers, playful children, and an Alpine paradise; I thought: "Can it get any better than this?"

As I walked away from that unforgettable setting of grandeur, I suddenly felt the paradox of standing just a few kilometers from Berchtesgaden -- once the command center of Hitler’s evil empire.

If there is any hope for this world of bombing raids and human hostility; if there is to be peace in our time; if love shall ever preside over the homes of our congregation; if reconciliation between the races shall ever occur in this noble city; it will be because a man rode into Jerusalem one day, not to set himself upon a throne, but to enthrone his cross of sacrificial love in the hearts of each of us.

1. Matthew 21:5 NRSV

2. Matthew 21: 9 NRSV

3. Matthew 21:17 NRSV

4. Matthew 21: 6-7