Outside the gates of Jerusalem, a cloak was thrown on the colt. The mighty, muscular and larger steeds mounted by Roman military men moved through the Passover crowds with great authority, causing all in their paths to scatter. He, surrounded by the followers, was lifted onto the colt, and, with face set, headed along the path down from the Mount of Olives. People gathered rather than scattered. Cloaks were spread on the path before him. Those who had been spellbound by his words found their voice, and shouted praise to God. Those who had been mystified by his authority gave witness to his authority. Those who had hidden in the shadows of his presence, moved to the light to give life to the moment.

And it was a mighty din they made. Was it the sound, the noise, the claims, or the praise that brought the complaint? For immediately, somehow, from among the followers, some of the oft-accused or criticized religious leaders appeared. "Teacher, order your disciples to stop!" For calling Jesus the King will surely bring about political repercussions. Let us not upset the Romans and lose what few benefits we now have. Or was it: "Teacher, order your disciples to stop." for we fear for your safety. Did we not warn you earlier of the threat from Herod? Or was it simply that they were registering their own disagreement or disbelief. "Teacher, order your disciples to stop."

"No. No, he said, If these were silent, the stones would shout out!" What stones? Or better yet, what did he mean by that. Would there be some natural phenomena? Or did he mean that the truth about who he is WOULD be told. How does one get to the truth? How do we take into our very soul, the spiritual truths that God sets before us? And what about this riding on a donkey or colt thing and all the symbolism there in. Is this to conjure up images of David, the beloved political and religious leader and imply that the battle against Rome had begun? But Luke puts King and Peace together. So what does that mean?

But we are not even to the gate yet. Just as Jesus had to go through the gate of Jerusalem, we must go through the gate of doubt and wonder. However intimidating the gate, however long the shadows cast by it because of all that we know, we must go through the gate and not only observe, but take into our very selves the scenes, the sights, the sounds and especially the terror being played out before us. We cannot get to any spiritual truth by celebrating, then standing outside the gate until the next celebration a week later. If we go from joy to joy, we cannot experience the change. Also it is through the gate that we begin to see this Jesus that the woman who anointed him with oil tried to tell us about. For as she poured out the costly oil and her tears, so too, we begin to see Jesus, at ultimate cost, pouring himself out, again and again.

At the table he poured out the wine and called to the memory of all the gathered dear ones the many times before that he had gathered them at table and nourished and fed them spiritually and physically. Through this pouring he reenacted and reminded them of how vulnerable he had been by insisting on opening the table to all. By pouring, he also pointed them to the pouring out of life and gave them hope through and beyond that.

That very same evening, he poured out water. He poured water into a bowl and took a towel, and as he washed, he poured out his servant self all over them. He

poured out himself and washed away the ladder climbing, power grabbing ways of the world, for all those who would follow.

The next day, amid taunts and jeers, inhumanity and obscene cruelty his life was poured out. Even at this horrific time, there was no use of the superpower he had been tempted to use much earlier in the wilderness. There was only agony and death - the ultimate pouring out.

He had asked if his followers could drink from the cup he would have to drink from. Drink from it?. I do not even want to hold it! And if I do, I am quick to put my hand over the rim so that I cannot possibly look into it. I do not want this pouring into my cup. The twentieth century filled my cup to over flowing with pain, destruction and evil. From Hitler to Milosovich and even some in our own country, I am convinced of evil. I am dumbfounded at the insidiousness of their activities and ability to turn one group against another and convince the power group of the righteousness of that activity of hatred. Look into that cup? Drink from it? I want to smash it.

But Paul was right. He knew we not only must go there but we must look into the cup, taking in its story. We must look into the eyes of and into the cup of the one who emptied himself to take on human form and humbled himself even unto death.

And what do I get, if I take the lid off my cup and allow the pouring out to flow from my cup to my very soul? As I become vulnerable to this experience and to my own experiences of pain and suffering I make room in my cup for goodness, grace, and yes, resurrection. If we cannot take in the pouring out, the emptying, the fullness of the resurrection loses it power and significance and we are left to drown in piles of plastic Easter eggs.

Suffering and death are realities of this world. If they are glossed over or passed over we miss the experiences of God holding our hand through the times of trial, of God suffering with us, and of being comforted by God. Faith often comes to us at times such as these. Rarely does faith come to us through intellectual exercise, or from bouncing from one celebrative activity to another. Most often, when I ask about someone’s faith, they tell me a story of an experience they had. So, we have to experience the Jesus story, the whole story on the whole journey to faith.

Every now and then, I receive a real gem of a gift that was never intended as such. The other day I received a letter. It went something like this. "This is a very difficult time for all of us. But we are learning to dig deep down into personal courage, resources, risk-taking, and energy supply. I am discovering again, as I have discovered before, that we are never given an infusion of God’s grace more abundant nor more welcome than on the darkest parts of our journey. We are ever so grateful for the mystery of spiritual reserves and God’s gifts." What a beautiful description of Jesus’ pouring out for us in our darkest hours.

Blessed. Blessed indeed. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Bind the festal procession with branches up to the altar. Blessed is the one who comes riding on a colt in the face of all the vestiges of power. Blessed is the one who gathers the multitudes to pour out stories of hope and promise. Blessed is the one who comes riding on the wings of hope and promise. Blessed is the one who pours out wine, nurture, nourishment and openness along with his own blood. Blessed is the one who pours out the water of servitude, and changes the ways of his followers. Blessed is the one who empties himself of divinity and takes on humanity. Blessed is the one who pours out his life and joins us in our suffering. Blessed is the one of stones rolled away and empty tombs and poured out amazing stories. O give thanks to God for this blessed one is good and abounds in steadfast love forever. Amen