"The Great Parade"
Who is this Jesus?
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Text: Matthew 3:13-17; 21:6-11
Over the last month, I have been afforded the opportunity to be at the end of two parades. Now, when I say the end of the parade, I mean the parade was already over when I arrived. The first was a few weeks ago, when I was in Oakville, and they had just had their Santa Claus parade. I didn't even know it was being held, but my wife and I went for lunch, and sure enough, a parade had just finished. As after any parade, everyone was milling around and talking to one another and making comments about the parade. People in the stores were talking about how Santa Claus looked particularly fat this year. Others were talking about the wonder of the reindeer, and how they got their electronic heads to bob. One father was talking to a mother, and whispered to her, “All I hope this year is Santa hasn't heard about Playstation 3!” Some children were still doing the post-mortem and enjoying every single moment of the experience they had just encountered: a post-parade assessment.
The second one was a little more somber. It was on November 11, and I was in Wolfville doing my studies. I arrived late. The parade had already finished: The veterans had marched through the streets; the bands had finished playing; and they were getting ready to have a celebration in one of the halls. Everyone had left the parade and moved on - with one exception. The exception was a gentleman sitting at the foot of the Cenotaph. He still had all the medals on his chest, and he had his poppy and his beret and his winter coat on. Clearly, he had been part of the parade, but didn't have the energy to go any further. I asked myself what this man might have seen or observed in his experiences that would make him participate in such a parade? Why was he sitting here as a solitary figure before the Cenotaph in front of the Canada Post office? The parade had finished. It was over.
But clearly, in both cases, the parade had been a powerful experience. They had touched many people, and those who had observed them from the sidelines had found them meaningful and provocative. Parades do that!
Sometimes parades are fairly benign things: They don't have much meaning; they are just a great party. One such is the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City that has been going for 80 years, since 1924. Only for two years has it been missed - during World War II - and now it is observing its 80th anniversary. They are expecting 3.5 million people this year at this parade. It still draws people, and is a magnificent occasion.
Sometimes, parades are more ominous, like Nuremberg in 1934, when Adolf Hitler gave his Thousand-Year Reich speech before 164,000 people. Then, at the end, there was the grand finale, the grand parade in which Hitler showed that he was really on his way to power. The power of a parade!
And then, there were people such as Eric Satie, who in 1916 composed the magnificent ballet titled Parade, which featured magnificent paintings by Picasso. This ballet seems meaningless, just a bunch of clowns dancing around symbolizing nothing, but when you contrast it with the dark days of World War I and the somber atmosphere of France in 1916, you realize this Parade said an awful lot!
Parades are powerful. The parade we heard about today was the Palm Sunday parade of Jesus into Jerusalem. Now, you might assume that this parade has more to do with Easter than Christmas, and you'd be right. Palm Sunday is the week before Easter. That is when we remember Jesus coming into Jerusalem. Nevertheless, as you and I prepare ourselves for Advent, there is an incredible moment in that parade that has great meaning for us in the Advent season. It is the moment when the crowd asks, “Who is this? Who is he that is coming into Jerusalem?”
Now, the crowds themselves would have experienced a great number of parades in their time. The Roman centurions would have been marching down the street in their military parades almost daily to assert Roman power in Jerusalem. But the crowds were hoping for something more: They were hoping for a Messianic parade. Maybe this would be another Judas Macabaes or maybe another great uprising; something for the people to coalesce around. They watched this Jesus come into Jerusalem on a donkey, and they said, “Who is this?” Some said, “Oh, it is just a prophet, Jesus of Nazareth.” Nothing more! They didn't really know. They didn't really understand who this Jesus was.
Now, this Advent season I want us to ask that very question: Who is this Jesus? I don't want us just to settle for a glib answer. I want us to do what we always do at a parade, and that is to analyze those who are standing on the sidelines and asking the question. Who are you in asking the question, “Who is this Jesus?” For indeed, many people ask that question with many different motives and for many different reasons.
For example, there are those I call “searchers.” These are people who stand and look at the parade of Jesus and look at his arrival into Jerusalem, look at his life and look at his story and try and analyze it as a journalist would. They look at the facts, and they try to understand the facts, and analyze the facts, and see if they can reconstruct the events of Christ's life in order to be able to answer the question, “Who is this?”
Peter Jennings, before his unfortunate and sad demise not long ago, did a documentary on the life of Jesus. He asked that very question, but he did it as an interviewer and as a journalist. He looked at the facts and he tried to recreate the life of Jesus by looking at the texts, but he also looked at things beyond the text to try to create a sense of context for the life of Jesus. The only problem is that alone simply cannot do it! You see, all the sources about Jesus' life were history interpreted by faith. Simply looking at the flat facts of the matter does not give you a real sense of who this Jesus really is.
Now, don't misunderstand me. Just because history is interpreted by faith does not mean that it is not history. All history to some extent is interpreted by those who view it and see it. Take for example the events of yesterday at the Liberal convention. It was drawn out, a little bit too long, but it made great theatre - didn't it? I couldn't help but think that if you were to interview supporters of Stéphane Dion at the end of the convention, they would have described the events of the day as one of the most glorious days in the history of the Liberal party, because their candidate had won. They would have given you a blow-by-blow description of the movement of all the people and all the background decisions and all the votes, and they would give you an honest, historical appraisal of what had happened. However, if you had asked the followers of Ken Dryden or Michael Ignatieff what they had thought about the unfolding of the day, they would have given you a blow-by-blow description of it, everything that had taken place, and they would have told you that it was a sad and a disappointing day. Why? It is because the person you are asking is interpreting the events through the lens of his or her own experience.
My friends, that doesn't mean that the events they are describing are not history. They are history! They are history interpreted through the eyes of those who observe it. So, I say to people who are the “searchers,” who just want to look at the facts, who want to look at Christ from face value, “You cannot on your own reconstruct the life of Jesus and know who he is by standing on the sidelines of the parade and describing, blow-by-blow, what happened. It is not enough!”
Now, there are some people who look at Jesus and look at the parade and are skeptics. Many years ago in his autobiography, a famous cellist described what it was like to play with Arturo Toscanini. He said that every time he was performing with Toscanini, Toscanini would say in the dressing room, “We are absolutely dreadful!” Then, they would get ready to go on stage, and he would look at the cellist and say, “We are absolutely dreadful!” One night the cellist said to him, “Now look, just a minute, this is getting a wee bit depressing. Is there nothing more that you can say than that we are dreadful? Say something, please, to inspire me to understand what is going on.” Toscanini looked at him as they were about to go onto the stage, and he said, “We are dreadful, but everybody else is worse. Now, let's just get on and play!”
Skeptics are a bit like that. Cynics are a bit like that. They do look at the life of Jesus, and ask the question, “Who is he,” but they do it with the motivation of finding fault and bringing it down to the lowest level, in order to elevate their own views. They look at Jesus and they deliberately try to find something to affirm their skepticism. Trust me, my friends, if you look at the life of Jesus with skepticism you will find things that affirm your skepticism - no question about it! But there are people who even make a life and an industry out of this thing: who in their skepticism try to bring Jesus down in order that they might be lifted up.
Don't misunderstand me. There are some people who I say have a legitimate skepticism. There were people who looked at Jesus and said, “Hold on a minute, he healed Jairus' daughter, but he didn't heal mine.” Some would say, “Oh, he went to Zaccheaus' house and had dinner with him, but he didn't come to my house for dinner. He performed all these great miracles when I wasn't there: never in my sight and never in my hearing!” Even to this day there are a great many wounded people - wounded in their hearts and in their souls - who look at the life of Jesus and at the Christian faith, and with a degree of sadness and skepticism they say, “But this has not worked for me! This has no meaning for me. I cannot accept him as others tell me he is.” So, they stand with the crowd, and they look from a distance, and they have no interest in asking the question, “Who is he?” They have made up their minds: He doesn't count.
Another group that lines the streets is the “seekers.” I love a line that came from Oz Guinness, somebody I have always respected greatly. He wrote: “To believe is to be in one mind about accepting something that is true. To disbelieve is to be in one mind in rejecting it. To doubt is to waver between the two: to believe and disbelieve at once and so be therefore in two minds.” The reality is there are many people who, when they look at Jesus, are in two minds. At times they believe; at times they disbelieve.
However, when they are true seekers, they want at the very least to find something in Jesus that will make a difference in their lives. They are spiritually hungry; they know that there is something there, but they want it to be real for them. They don't want to stand at a distance; they want to be included. They want it to be meaningful and real for them. They want the hope of eternal life to be true. They want compassion to be greater than hatred. They want hope to burst through the bonds of fear. They pray that this Jesus who comes into Jerusalem is the Son of God. They really do! They are seeking.
I think it is fair enough to say that of my generation - and by that I mean the baby boomers, at which I am at the tail end, I want you to know - really do seek something deeper. They hope and they pray that there is some substance to the faith that is going to make a difference, and they want a better world. They want a world that is environmentally sustainable. They want a world at peace. They want a world that is reconciled. They want a world that is filled with the power of God's spirit. They are genuinely seeking, just like many in the crowd on that first Palm Sunday who stood on the outside looking in saying, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Let's just hope he is who we think he is.” There is nothing wrong with seeking. There is nothing wrong with craving the presence of God. There is nothing wrong with having two minds.
But, you can't stay there, for there is another group, that lines the streets, and they are the “satisfied.” By the satisfied, I mean those who really do know the one who is in the parade. But, here is the difference. Unlike all the others who have stood and lined the streets, they have decided to join the parade and follow. A reporter said something last night at the Liberal convention:, “It is hard for us to know, those of us who stand on the outside, what it must be like for those who are part of the event.” The camera went immediately to Ignatieff and then to Dion, and he continued, “We have no understanding what those two men and their followers are going through at the moment.” And it is true. You don't know until you actually belong. You don't know until you actually support. You don't know until you actually get into the parade and follow.
As many of you know, I am a great fan of Garrison Keillor, and I am just glad that he is not on the radio at 11 a.m., because if he was, I'd be listening to him and not me! Garrison Keillor has a great description of faith: “What else will do except faith in such a cynical and corrupt time? When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word.” But, you notice that the cats have to do something. Faith is not a passive thing.
Faith is not assent from a distance. Faith requires following. It requires joining the parade and immersing yourself in who this Jesus is. When you do that, the searchers realize there is something to this, historically. The Skeptics realize that the brokenness in their hearts can be mended. The seekers get what they are looking for. It is the difference between the baptism and the triumphal entrance. At the triumphal entry they say, “Who is this?” At the baptism, they hear the spirit: “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” You don't come to know that unless you are prepared to join the parade.
I stood at a distance and I looked at the veteran sitting at that Cenotaph and I thought, “What should I do? Walk on by or sit down and talk to him?” So, I sat down and joined him. I asked him what he had gone through and I asked him what he had seen and experienced, and he told me. I asked him why he hadn't gone to the worship service, and he replied that he was just too tired. After our conversation was finished, I realized I understood him. I knew him, and I was richer for it.
So are we! When we do not just stand on the outside of the parade and look at Jesus from a distance, but follow and join and live with him in spirit, then, when we hear the question that the great parade asks, “Who is he,” we know the answer. Amen.
This is a verbatim transcription of the original sermon.