Sermon Title: "Preparers of the Way"
Date: April 5, 2009
Minister: Rev. Charles E. Ensley, Jr.

Lesson:  Mark 11:1-11

Well, the Palm Sunday processional is all over and done with.  And what did it take—maybe four minutes?  I can tell you a lot more went into the planning of it than that.  At last Wednesday’s staff meeting alone, Alicia and Julie explained to Susie and myself the logistics of when the handbell players were to start walking, how many were to be in before the choir started down the side aisles, how much time it would take for the choir to get up into the chancel and ready to sing, and when Julie would indicate for the congregation to stand and sing, at which point Susie and I were to start the children’s processional, and where the children were to sit.  That doesn’t even count the time the handbells spent practicing the piece on Wednesday night and earlier this morning, and the choir rehearsing their part.  Last week, Jim Morris spent over an hour cutting palm fronds for the children to carry this morning, and on Friday another 45 minutes preparing the potted palms.  So, in sum, the preparation for the event took much longer than the event itself.

If you look at the events of the first Palm Sunday as portrayed in the Gospels, you would find much the same situation:  the preparation for the event took much longer than the event itself.  Look again at Mark’s version, virtually similar to Matthew’s and Luke’s.  The first seven verses are taken up with Jesus instructing the disciples the details of how to procure the colt—a young donkey which had never been ridden.  They were instructed where to find it, and how to deal with the owner if he questioned why they were appropriating it.  Finally, “they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it.” (11:7)  Seven verses detailing the preparation, and then the whole parade happens in the next three verses.  That’s not how we remember it from Sunday School.  It was all about the parade, the crowd waving palm branches and proclaiming, “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! … Hosanna in the highest heaven!”  (11:9-10)

Just as Jesus sent his disciples ahead to procure the colt and prepare it for the parade; so too he sent his disciples out on other tasks—to preach, to heal, and to cast out demons from troubled people.  Sometimes they were as successful as Jesus; other times they returned and told him they had failed.  But it was all a learning lesson, a preparation for the day when Jesus was no longer with them in body and it would become their responsibility to share his teachings and begin what has become the Christian church.

Much the same task falls to us today.  Every Sunday, volunteer Sunday School teachers sacrifice the second half of worship to go out and teach lessons to the children and youth of our church.  Youth leaders give up weeknights and summer camp volunteers give up a week to lead and influence the youth of our church.  You speak a simple word of, “I’m praying for you,” when you hear someone’s going through a rough time.  You bake a casserole or a pie for someone who has just returned home from the hospital, or suffered a death in their family.  You’re not called to heroically preach sermons on tough biblical texts, but you can bake a casserole, brownies or cookies on the third Wednesday of the month when we serve dinner to the hungry and homeless of Long Beach downtown at Christian Outreach in Action.  And through these seemingly small, countless gestures, we are fulfilling the will of God.  We are preparing the way of Jesus.  We are doing those things that must be done before Jesus can make his entry into the world.  You and I become preparers of the way!

William Willimon, former Dean of the Chapel at Duke University and now Bishop in the United Methodist Church in Alabama, wrote this paragraph from which I took my sermon title.  It’s relevant to those of us called to preach the gospel, but the message is to the congregation:

“In a way, as a preacher, to be honest, most of the work I do is simply getting things ready for the arrival of Jesus.  I work on these sermons, believe it or not, and I preach my heart out on Sunday morning.  But even in my best efforts, I do not make Jesus available to you.  That is something only Jesus can do.  I’m the advance-man.  I’m just the preparer of the way, the guy that’s in charge of the room arrangements; I’m not the way.  I test the PA system.  I try to make certain that everybody gets the information they need, in order to be on the same page.  But the presence of God, the voice of God, is something I don’t do.  I prepare the way.  I just get things ready.

“If, in a sermon that I preach to you, you feel your life seized, caught up in the grand purposes of God, it is as an act of God, a free, sovereign, condescension of God to you.  All I do is get things ready.”

Yet if any of the things that are necessary to prepare the way are overlooked, from disciples getting the colt for Jesus or teachers making copies of the Sunday School lesson in the office at 9:10 on Sunday morning, then an opportunity is missed to give us the necessary tools, to prepare us for the coming of Jesus into our lives.

In another of her poems from my favorite book for Lenten devotions, Kneeling in Jerusalem, Ann Weems writes “Between Parades” (© 1992 Ann Barr Weems, from Kneeling in Jerusalem, Westminster/John Knox Press, p. 69) to describe how we plan this Sunday and next, but often overlook the events that occur in the week between:

We’re good at planning!

Give us a task force

      and a project

and we’re off and running!

No trouble at all!

      Going to the village and finding the colt,

even negotiating with the owners

     is right down our alley.

And how we love a parade!

In a frenzy of celebration

     we gladly focus on Jesus

and generously throw our coats

     and palms in his path.

And we can shout praise

     loudly enough

to make the Pharisees complain.

It’s all so good!

It’s between parades that

     we don’t do so well.

From Sunday to Sunday

     we forget our hosannas.

Between parades

     the stones will have to shout

because we don’t.

It’s not always easy to understand the meaning of Palm Sunday.  It is a festive relief from the more somber and sobering music and lessons of the previous five Sundays of Lent.  And if I won’t see you again until next Sunday, this is a grand prelude to Easter.  But it seems to me that if Jesus had not made such an entrance into Jerusalem, had not attracted so much attention from the crowds, the religious and political leaders may not have taken as much notice, may not have been as threatened.  The whole script of darkening and painful events that unfold in Jesus’ life in the week ahead may not have happened as they did.  There may have been no crucifixion.  There may have been no resurrection.  And we wouldn’t be here today . . . and certainly not next Sunday.

The suffering most of us have experienced lately has been the drastic reduction in the worth of our investment portfolios, our pension plans, our homes.  Maybe your business has experienced a downturn.  Some of you have been sick, and we have lost a few of our beloved but aged members so far this year.  But this suffering pales in comparison to Jesus’ sacrifice in the week ahead.

Some things have to happen to prepare the way.