Palms and Parades

“CALM BEFORE THE STORM”
Text: Mark 11:1-11
Faith United
April 5, 2009

I love parades
I’ve never been to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade
but Larry went before I ever met him
and it was an awesome, yet crowded experience
When I was in Middle School in Red Bank, New Jersey,
the high school, big as it was,
had a serious shortage of band members
and so let Middle Schoolers play in the high school band
I played clarinet at the time
and really didn’t enjoy it a whole lot
but I wanted to play in the band
Not so much for anything else but the experience of playing in parades
I just wanted to wear the nifty uniform
It was a pretty formal band uniform that was kind of a barn red
and lots of tassles and decorations
We had white shoes
that matched the tall, furry hat
with a brim that we got to wear
It was pretty cool
Red Bank had a population of about 12,000 people
which in New Jersey is considered a small town
And they had parades for pretty much every holiday
including Halloween
so it was pretty thrilling to walk down Highway 35
wearing that really cool uniform
and playing my clarinet
I felt like big stuff
And thousands of strangers lined the street
catching candy, waving banners,
waving flags, cheering various members of the parade
It was just fun, pure joy and celebration
It didn’t matter if you knew anybody,
it was pretty exciting

I think of that experience
when I watch the July 4th parade here
Here of course everybody knows everybody
that lines the streets
they shout out to their friends and grandchildren
who are on the floats in the parades
and everyone is connected
But the point of it is all the same
we all love a parade
we love joy and a chance to celebrate
Whether it’s to cheer our children or grandchildren
in Girl Scouts or on the basketball team
or the firefighters, EMTs, or military
or whether it’s just watching the kids
tackle each other for that piece of candy
We do love a parade
and it’s a time when we can come out of our houses
and feel connected to a whole community
there are stories all over the place
stories connected to that antique tractor that just passed by
or the guys in the funny hats riding motor scooters
in circles
And after the parade we disperse
maybe to get ice cream at the Baptist Church
go to a tractor pull
or attend a cookout with friends
and light a few fireworks in the front yard
The party continues after the parade
and goes on till after dark

Sometimes we march in the street to remember
some people hold candles to remember people who have died
to mark an anniversary of a tragedy
to protest some injustice that keeps going on
Sometimes we march to say we believe in something
and we want to make a statement
we don’t just want to sit on the sidelines
and be quiet anymore

Parades can be dangerous
I was just a toddler
when Martin Luther King Jr and friends marched
but I’ve heard the stories
I’ve seen the pictures
of hoses turned onto people
dogs sent to run people off
I’ve seen that parades that start off with joy and conviction
can turn ugly, maybe even deadly

What was he thinking? I wonder
when Jesus went into the temple that evening?
The story says that he went in and looked around
It was empty
It was getting dark, as it was late
It was getting very late
Did he think about the parade he just left?
Did he hear the cries of joy, see the hope in the faces?
Did he hear the music and see the dancing
in his mind?
Did he sway a bit in his solitude
singing the songs of God that he’d heard in the streets?
Did he picture his parents coming to this temple
only to be let into the outer gates
since they were poor?
Coming to have their child blessed and presented to God?
Blessed at the edges of the crowd
not at the center of the worship space
reserved for higher classes?
Did he try to picture the old prophet Simeon
and the prophetess Anna
that his mother told him about?
The ones who were so overjoyed that day to see him as a baby?
A sign of hope in their old age?
Did he remember the precocious little 12 year old he was
that came to this temple
and discussed theology with the priests?
Did he remember his own unchanged adolescent voice
speaking amidst the old rabbis, who were suspicious of his wisdom?
I wonder what he thought about that night
all alone in the silence
Did he feel peace in remembering?
Did he feel connected to all those who had worshipped in this place
over the centuries?
Did he feel the history, the weight of prayers lifted up here?
Or did he mourn the fact that many of his friends were still not welcome
within these walls
but were still left out in the outer courts
like his own parents had been over 30 years ago?
I wonder if he knelt
I wonder if he fingered his own prayer shawl
and softly sang the words of prayer he’d sung as a child?
I wonder if he looked up at the veil, the thick curtain
that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the room
the place that people believed housed the very presence of God
and was kept separated from God’s people?
I wonder if he prayed
for Jerusalem, for peace that even then seemed so far off….
I wonder if he asked God why…
I wonder if he wept
if he pouned a fist on a nearby table
Hosanna! They’d cried just moments before
Hosanna! He saw their faces
the poor, the ignored, the hungry, the lost
the prostitutes, the homeless, the men, the women,
the misfits, the invisible ones
Hosanna! they’d cried
Save us! the word meant… Save us!
It was late, he must have seen the shadows lengthen against the dark walls
he must have seen the curtain disappear in the unlit room
as the sun behind him descended into the horizon
It was already very late
he could feel it in his bones …

Earlier that day, there was a parade
There was a parade on each side of town
On one side, the Romans entered town
on their majestic military horses
their impressive uniforms,
swords hanging at their sides
so many of them,
a symbol of power
making a statement: don’t mess with us
You will regret it
The important, powerful people rode in on their horses
getting attention
making a statement
Showing who was in control of this gathering
And the people bowed down in submission
the people backed away to let them through
some of them trembled, afraid
knowing that one false move and someone would die
On the other side of town
there was another parade
rather pathetic, really, compared to the other one
A poor-looking man riding a donkey,
with a few ragtag people dancing alongside
Poor people, dirty people, people of questionable character
People who wouldn’t be let into respectable places
who wouldn’t be allowed in the temple
but who would be kept on the outer limits
because they didn’t have anything to give
But they were strangely joyful, hopeful
greeting this humble man
as if he were a king
yet he carried no weapons
he didn’t wave to the crowds
he didn’t say anything
he didn’t intimidate anyone
or warn anyone to behave
He just rode the donkey and watched the crowds
as the donkey, the small, pathetic donkey he rode
walked over the coats laid in the pathway
the tree branches waving like flags
It was a motley crew,
but they all knew that in his eyes they were somebody
And I wonder,
which parade would I have been in?
Would I have known?
Would I have risked my reputation to be in the parade
with the motley crew?
Or would I have preferred to be seen
on the other side,
let the powers that be see
that I was loyal
and would never dream of taking a stand
that could get me killed?
Which parade would you be in?

This week I came across an article from The Record
which is a newspaper in Canada
The article was about an event in memory of a man named Martin Tarback
a 41 year-old man who died of cancer last week
In the town of Kitchener,
there was a large gathering of senior police officers,
city councilors, street people
recovering crack addicts, Crown attorneys
and nurses
all walking through the downtown streets of the city
carrying long stem roses
Martin Tarback was a gentle giant of a man
with dreadlocks who had lived on the streets
At his memorial, he was remembered as the homeless man
who brought out the best of people
store owners who gave him clothes,
bank managers who helped him with his money
street cops, cabbies, bus drivers and street nurses
who all watched out for him
Before the procession downtown,
Tarback was memorialized in a moving ceremony
at the St. John Kitchen
that was packed with more than 200 people
They played his favorite music,
“Let it Be” by the Beatles, and “Imagine” by John Lennon
and people wept
Someone read a poem written by Tarback
that was published 17 years ago
It said,
“Maybe I’m just a fool in the rain,
hopeless enough to see what you say
Or maybe I’ll just fly through the sky, never a dreamer
or wonderin’ why…”
Tarback had helped plan his own memorial
a few months before his death
he wanted cheese squares and non-alcohlic beer served
Marty Schreter of the Multicultural Centre said,
“We are here, we area community,
we think about human dignity,
Martin lead us up that path…
He was a community leader, not a follower
The more I think about it,” Schreiter said,
“the more WE followed HIM…”
At the memorial, they showed a variety of pictures
up on the screen
pictures of Tarback growing up, smiling
and no trace of the demons that would put him on the streets later in life—
the demons of schizophrenia and alcohol
His sister said that Martin had wanted to be a musician,
an architect and to travel the world
But he was confined to the streets
Shop owners along King street, where Martin lived
said that he always stopped in to ask them how THEY were doing
A Crown attorney who spoke
said that the way Martin carried himself
made her see beyond the layers of tattered cloths and unkept hair
“He was a gentle, intelligent soul,” she said,
“who brought out the best in people.”
A nurse met Tarback at a hospital where he’d sought help
“He was my inspiration,” she said, “to become a street nurse,
“It was clear to me last February that something was really wrong,
he was really very sick.”
An administrator at the local hospital said at his memorial,
“You have inspired our entire community
to not give up on its poorest citizens…you have changed us.”
After the memorial service at the soup kitchen,
about 100 people walked down King Street
Along the way photographs of Tarback were taped
to walls and posts, along with roses
His family was blown away by how a whole city had looked out
for their troubled brother
and in the process, been changed themselves….

I have mixed feelings about Palm Sunday
because I know what happens later in the week
after all the palms are laid aside
and the people disperse
I know that people can be fickle
selfish and easily swayed by passion, even
and it hurts to know the rest of the story
from the vantage point of Palm Sunday
And I wonder what Jesus thought about that night
in the temple
Did he feel alone?
Did he know how fickle we really are
when we wave our banners and profess our love?
Did he wonder who would leave his parade
to join the parade on the other side of town?
We don’t know
But we’re here again
we wave our palms because we do love him
even though we don’t always understand him
even though his teachings demand too much of us
and we’re not sure we’re up to it all
But he changed the world
He came, knowing what would happen to him
but he came anyway
He came because God loves us
this motley crew of fickle and often selfish people
he came because God has hope for us
and our crazy world
Even when we join the other parade
that calls for violence, bloodshed
and destruction of our enemies
Enemies we don’t even know
whose eyes we’ll never look into
Jesus came because he knows we can do better than that
and he believes that someday we will
and so we keep telling the story
we keep envisioning the parade of misfits
There’s a part of me that keeps remembering that song
I used to love by Don McClean
It was written about the artist Van Gogh,
called, “Starry, Starry Night”
I was always haunted by that last line,
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
I think about that as we praise Jesus today
and wave our palms
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
Our world kills people like that
Our world calls for the destruction of people who call for peace
who stand up for the invisible ones, the misunderstood ones
the poor, the struggling, the mentally ill,
the broken
the sinners
Time after time after time
we see the peacemakers killed
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you….”
He knew that
and yet he came anyway
because God loves the world that much
and will never, ever give up on redeeming it
So God will keep coming, no matter how many times
we fight back,
God will keep coming, keep calling for peace,
keep raising up prophets to lead us
even when we keep killing them
and God will not stop coming
until we all feast at his heavenly banquet
the poor, the rich, the beautiful, the sinners,
the dirty, the clean, the misfits
We will all feast one day
together
in peace
Until then,
we will keep singing,
keep telling the story
keep marching, keep praying, and hoping
and we will keep entering the darkness of Good Friday
trusting that we will wake up to Easter,
to Resurrection and redemption
trusting in that day when Easter will never end
and death will be no more….