A POEM FOR PALM SUNDAY

Rev. Steven S. Billings
Palm Sunday
Sermon
April 5, 2009

A Poem for Palm Sunday

Rejoice, O Daughter of Zion! Your King comes to you,
Righteous and having salvation; He is your King, it's true.
He comes to you in splendor, perched on the foal of an ass,
He comes to you in triumph; He is your King at last.

These three long years He labored, healing your sick and blind,
He healed the lame, the deaf, the dumb, yes, sickness of every kind.
To those who were broken hearted He gave new hope and cheer,
Yes it seems, Jerusalem, your King is finally here.

And how do you receive Him? With palms and shouts of joy!
Your people throng to greet Him, every girl and every boy.
Yes, men and women, old and young, they shout to Him and sing,
They crowd into your narrow streets to see the coming of their King.

But what sort of King do they expect? What manner of Man is this?
"He is the Son of David! He is due the royal kiss.
He will free us from oppression; He will set the captive free!"
Ah, Yes, He will, Jerusalem, you need only wait and see.

For in the span of five short days, your attitude will change.
The One you gladly welcome now, you'll drag back here in chains.
You'll hunt Him down like a criminal and those who are His friends
Will hide like frightened children from your wicked angry men.

You'll pretend a legal trial and you will be the judge.
You'll demand that He deny Himself, but, strangely, He will not budge.
He won't say a single word, but will turn it back on you,
"Thou sayest it," Jerusalem, for you know it to be true.

You've seen His works, you've heard His words, you've felt His touch of love.
He could not be a man like you; He must be from above.
From all you've seen and heard and felt, for you there is no doubt,
But how He angered you in the temple when He drove the merchants out!

How offending was He when He said, "I am the Bread of life,
"Whoever eats of Me in faith will surely never die.
But whoever does not eat of Me will surely taste of death."
So offended are you, Jerusalem, that you want to still His breath.

So a pack of lying witnesses you parade before the court.
You try in vain to intimidate Him, but He is not that sort.
For He is God, and you know it well; His miracles testify
That who and what He says He is, He is, and does not lie.

Unlike you, who today will say, "Hosannah to the King!"
And in five days will assemble again to shout quite another thing.
"Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" That will be your cry.
This One you call your King today, you will later ask to die.

But why the change? What went wrong? What caused you to turn on Him?
He did nothing evil, only good; He forgave you of your sin.
But is that why you changed your mind? Did you not want to hear
That you are truly sinful and that your death is near?

Oh, yes, I do suppose that you would gladly take the food
That He dispensed from a small boy's lunch; I'm sure that it was good.
And I'm sure you never noticed that only God could do
Such a feat as feeding thousands from what He had to use.

Nor did you deny Him the healings He performed.
You walked away, who crawled to Him, you ran on feet reformed,
You sang with voices stilled so long, you saw with eyes once dim,
But you looked upon the Son of God and never recognized Him.

He cried for you, Jerusalem, because you are so blind.
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem! How My heart does pine
To hold in My loving arms like the chicks of a mother hen,
But, alas, you will not have Me; you will not be My friend."

But go ahead, Jerusalem, rejoice and have your day.
Sing with shouts and laughter; throw your coats along the way.
Welcome in your new-found King, with royal fanfare cheer.
It won't be long, Jerusalem; His victory is near.

Yes, I do say victory, though you may call it death.
That is what you have planned for Him, your welcome honored Guest.
You welcome Him with bogus praise, while in the coming week
You plan a royal sacrifice for the One of whom you speak.

For surely as He rides today through your noble gates,
You will find Him guilty of a sin against the state.
You will pressure Pontius Pilate to submit to your demands.
And though he finds no fault in Him, His blood is on his hands.

He'll wash those hands and wash them over and over again,
But the stains will never leave them, they're embedded in his brain.
But what of you, Jerusalem, do you feel no guilt?
It surely rests upon you; you are buried to the hilt.

For it was you, Jerusalem, who called for His death.
"Give us Barabbas, crucify Him!", you cried with all your breath.
"But He is your King," said Pilate, "you have said so yourself."
"We have no King but Caesar; there is no one else!"

Yes, yes, Jerusalem, this all waits for you.
In five short days your mood will change and these things you will do.
Your people will be madmen, like lions smelling blood.
They'll demand the release of a murderer, and call for the death of the Son of God.

And He will not deny you; He'll come forth willingly.
He'll bow His head in submission, He'll enter a "guilty" plea.
He will endure your insults, your mockery and shame,
He'll take the thirty-nine lashes even though they cause such pain.

He will let you beat Him with your fists across His face.
He will even let you spit on Him, but never once forget His place.
For you are right, Jerusalem, this Man is your King,
Though you do not recognize the kingdom that He brings.

"My kingdom is not of this world," He said again and again.
"I have come to serve, not be served; I've come to free you from your sin.
And this I do by dying, by taking up this cross
And carrying it to Calvary where I will save the lost."

"For there is where I'll pay the price for the sins of the world.
I'll let them drive the spikes in and pierce Me with the sword.
And above Me you will read the sign carrying the news,
'This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.'"

"But, why will I let you do this? What reason could there be?
I know you must be wondering, but it is plain to see,
Jerusalem, I love you, I love you with all My heart.
And I'm willing to do anything to keep us from being apart."

"This is something I must do, for without Me, you will die.
But now I will die for you, and you needn't wonder why.
For Jerusalem, O Jerusalem, I have come for you,
A meek and humble servant, though I am your King, it's true."

"And out of love I do this, a love you've never known.
All that I do, I do for you, to redeem you as My own.
Jerusalem, O Jerusalem, for you my heart does burn.
Perhaps one day, Jerusalem, you will love Me in return."

And thus He prays for you, dear friend, and I do pray as well,
That you, the new Jerusalem, will hear and mark it well,
The story of the old one, to whom He came that day,
Who laid the palms before Him and threw their coats along the way.

Yet, five days hence, they killed Him, for He did not fulfill
The expectations held for Him, for these were not His Will.
Let it not be true of you as was true of them,
Who would rather have an earthly king than the Savior of all men.

Rejoice, O Daughter of Zion, at the coming of your King,
But listen oh, so carefully to the message that He brings.
The message of undying love that causes us to see
The actions of the dying Son as done for you and me.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.