Words on the Wind

The Rev. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
April 5, 2009
Palm Sunday

Words on the Wind
Mark 11:1-11

Swirling eddies: winds blowing east, west,
north, south,
vagrant winds, random.
Watch a leaf caught in an eddy and it swirls all about --
back, forth, up, down,
round and round.

Judea was a land filled with swirling eddies,
winds coming from every direction:
salt-scented breezes from the west,
coming off the Mediterranean;
stifling hot winds from the Negev,
the desert to the south;
a slight scent of cedar floated in the air
from the forests of Lebanon to the North;
the most exotic winds came from the east,
spiced winds,
fragrant with ginger, frankincense, and myrrh.

The winds met in Jerusalem,
a city even in Jesus’ day bustling with people,
every footstep kicking up dust
blown about by the eddies.
During the celebration of the Passover
the city could easily swell in size by 5, even 10 times,
so many people, as though they themselves
had been carried there on the winds.

And there in the midst of the throngs,
not quite 2,000 years ago
at the very beginning of the Passover week,
words were carried on the wind,
words of excitement,
words that spoke of hope,
hope for someone to restore the days of grandeur,
the days of David, of Solomon,
a glorious time in Israel’s history,
more than 900 years in the past,
but still a time in the nation’s history
that stirred the people
and filled them with pride.

Hadn’t they lived for too many centuries
under the yoke of oppressors:
Assyrians, Babylonians, Medes, Persians,
and now the Romans.
Hadn’t the scriptures promised them a king
who would break the bonds, throw off the yoke,
and restore the throne of David?

And the words on the wind in Jerusalem
said that he was finally coming,
the one they had been waiting for,
the one who would reclaim the throne of David,
rid them of their Roman overlords,
rid them of corrupt kings
like Herod and his sons,
who were nothing more than pretenders to David’s throne,
weak, greedy pawns of the Roman government.

They could picture their King: mighty, majestic -
his dark hair cascading down to his broad shoulders,
his armor glistening in the mid-day sun,
as he rode on a fearless steed,
the King’s powerful arms holding the reins lightly,
as though horse and rider were of one mind.
Loyal soldiers around their king,
every one of them brave,
hearts, bodies, and minds,
along with swords, spears and shields,
ready to serve their king.

The words on the wind stirred the people with such fervor
that Passover season
that many of them headed for the eastern gates,
toward the Mount of Olives,
out of the city just far enough
to find trees so they could cut branches
to wave in welcome for the king,
for surely the king was coming!

As they lined the road,
the people strained to hear,
but the wind carried away any sounds they thought they heard.
They squinted in the harsh sunlight
as they looked down the road that went south around
the Mount of Olives and then east
to Bethany and Bethpage.

Finally they saw a group approaching,
hazy in a cloud of dust whipped by wind and shuffling feet.
Excitement spilled over
and the people waved their branches
as they shouted out:
“Hosanna! Save Us!
Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

The group came around the bend and into view.
But wait!
It was only a handful of men,
none of them with armor, swords, spears.
No horses, no chariots.
Could they be the vanguard of the king?
Servants sent ahead of the soldiers?
Ahead of the king?

And who was that in the middle of their group?
A man, a thin man,
a man astride a donkey,
not a horse, not a battle-hardened steed,
but a simple donkey,
The man on the donkey’s back
wore no sword, no spear;
he wasn’t even sitting on a proper saddle;
it looked as though a robe or a coat had been thrown
on the back of the beast.

The group passed in the dust and the winds
and the people kept waving and shouting.
But as soon as the group went by
the “Hosannas” faded away,
carried off by the winds.

The people who had lined the road walked away
in every direction, the excitement gone,
no longer thinking of a king,
now thinking only of where to find food
and a place to sleep for the night.
The swirling eddies quickly scoured the road of the palm branches,
scattering them in every direction.

The people didn’t understand.
The winds had apparently carried away
what they had learned from Scripture.
Yes, a king was promised,
and he would come “…triumphant and victorious…”
but he would also come,
“humble and riding on a donkey”.
(Zechariah 9:9)

Even the disciples who followed Jesus hadn’t understood.
Only a few days before
Jesus had said to them for the third time,
“the Son of Man will be handed over
to the chief priests and the scribes,
and they will condemn him to death;
then they will hand him over to the Gentiles;
they will mock him, and spit upon him,
and flog him, and kill him….”
(Mark 10:34)
And all the disciples could do after hearing their teacher
was argue about which of them would be the greatest.

As the sun set and people gathered around fires for warmth
those who had shouted out “Hosanna”,
may well have thought their words and their hopes
had been carried away by the winds.

But Jesus had heard.
He had heard their words, “save us”.
And in just a few days he would save them,
save them in a way neither they nor Jesus’ disciples
could ever have imagined.

In just a few days Jesus would save them,
and save you and me
as the swirling eddies carried the sound of
hammer against nail,
and the agonizing thud
of a cross dropped in its hole on Golgotha.

As you come to this table,
there is no need to shout out Hosannas,
for that prayer has been answered!
Instead, come to this table quietly,
gratefully,
humbly, like our Lord.

Come to this table listening:
listening for the words on the wind
even here in the stillness of this Sanctuary,
for they are there:
“the Lord is God,
and he has given us light!
The Lord is God,
and he has given us light!
Blessed is the one
who comes in the name of the Lord.”
AMEN