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Today is Palm Sunday, traditionally spoken of as Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, but which quickly turns into the passion story, the spiraling of events leading to his crucifixion.

So, what happened? First of all it’s important to recognize that these accounts of the Palm Sunday scene are not necessarily literal history. These are narratives written several years later by early Christians reflecting back and using earlier scriptures to say what they had come to believe about this man, Jesus – this man who had so touched and transformed the lives of so many.

Matthew, writing 50 or more years later, borrows heavily from the Old Testament scriptures and incorporates them into his gospel story, presenting Jesus as the fulfillment of earlier prophecy.

At the time of this event, the followers of Jesus were still a small Jewish sect, but there were widespread and diverse Jewish messianic expectations in peoples’ minds – hopes for a leader who would come and free them from the yoke of Roman imperialism, its military occupation and heavy taxation. So some were likely hoping that this Jesus might be the one. Others really paid little or no attention. And still others saw him breeding trouble.

Why did he go to Jerusalem? He knew it was dangerous to go to this seat of power. But this was Passover time when people flocked from all over to Jerusalem to visit the Temple and gather for the festival. And this was his tradition also. And what better time and place, in the tradition of the prophets, to spread his message and be faithful to what he believed God was calling him to do. But, to the disappointment of some, he had no intention of leading a revolt, being king or exercising force.

But what does he do after entering Jerusalem? He goes to the Temple, turns over the tables and drives out all who were selling and involved in profiteering and graft. You see, the place had become co-opted by Rome and had become controlled and corrupted in a way that was mutually convenient to the political/religious elite.

That Jesus would criticize and disrupt this was enough to get him arrested. And he was preaching about a different order or empire, the kingdom of God, whereas the Romans controlled everything and were intent on keeping order and putting down and punishing any hint of rebellion or threat to this control. And even though he was very much in the heritage of Jewish prophets, this was a word that did not sit well with those who had a stake in the existing Empire and sphere of influence.

Jesus saw the pain, brutality and exclusion of that world and dared in his words and actions to call it into question. He spoke of a new way, with new priorities and values, and a radically different notion about how human life might be ordered. He called people to follow a different path and live in this new way. But his vision of this new future wasn’t the violent apocalyptic one of peoples’ fantasies then or now, but one of justice and compassion and transforming love.

No doubt fearing that this disruption might get out of hand, he was arrested, tried in a Roman court, convicted of sedition against the Roman state, and executed in a manner typical of the way Rome dealt with peasant criminals and its enemies.

There’s a dark side to Matthew’s story. His emphasis is to point the finger of guilt at the Jews for Jesus’ death. While there were Jewish officials who no doubt would have played a role in this, because they were part of the system he questioned and criticized, Rome was in control and ultimately in charge.

It’s important to note that Matthew, though Jewish himself, is reflecting the late-first-century conflict and hostility that continued to develop between Jewish Christians and Judaism and their arguments over who was being more faithful to the tradition of Israel.

And in the meantime Christianity was spreading and become increasingly Gentile and anti-Jewish.

As Christians read this gospel account, they must be aware of this, because it has contributed to the roots of Anti-Semitism and the scapegoating of the Jews. Later, Augustine and Martin Luther would fan the flames of this viewpoint, and it certainly is still widely held in conservative Christian circles today.

The emphasis instead really needs to be put on Matthew’s contrasting of the two kingdoms, and Jesus pointing to a new way of seeing and living – the vision of a different order of life that is inclusive and caring, and a necessary life choice as to what and whom to follow. The question for his disciples and other followers, shocked by his arrest and execution as a criminal, is, "Will you still love me tomorrow" or will you turn away disappointed and disillusioned, scared or from social pressure, or with too much at stake in the way things are? Later on his followers would remember and experience resurrection in their lives and in their life together.

Is there a message here for us as we enter Holy Week? We’ve spoken of this Lenten season as a time for reflection and examining anew the choices we are making in our lives; a time for seeking to be more open and attentive to the way of God.

I’ve had some experiences these past few weeks that have prompted my own thinking about this. At the beginning of this month Meg and I celebrated her birthday by spending a weekend in New York City, which we both love. We had a wonderful time! We were staying uptown in a hotel across the street from the Museum of Natural History and the Hayden Planetarium. There’s a new IMAX movie there on the history of the universe – our universe which is estimated to be about 13 billion years old and expanding.

There’s nothing like this movie and exhibit to remind us of how limited our vision is, and how much more expansive our views about life and the world might become. I might add, that we also came away convinced that it should be required viewing for all creationists.

We took the ferry over to Ellis Island, where some 12 million immigrants reached out for a new life in America. It has been beautifully restored, and it was a very moving experience for us to be there and learn more about the rich diversity of peoples that came through.

On our way we passed the Statue of Liberty, just as they did, and I thought of what this meant to them, and of how much more it means to me after September 11^th.

Ellis Island reminds us that while we welcomed these immigrants into our country, at the same time we were conflicted because they also brought cultural differences and change into our midst. And yet this stretched and enlarged us as a people, and forced us to learn to deal with the new and different. And as a result we have become a more open, tolerant and inclusive society.

On the ferry, and from Ellis Island itself, one can look back at the New York skyline and see the emptiness where the twin towers used to be. We felt that we needed to visit the site and did – that massive vacant space, where workers are still there around the clock.

As a colleague has put it, one sees this with hearts broken, and yet made more spacious, as our hearts go out to all who perished, and to their families and friends. And these terrorist attacks have also forced us to face new realities and a world full of differences, both in our allies and our enemies. It’s a reminder to us, just as in Jesus’ time, that there’s so much pain and brutality in the world, so much that needs our attention and that we cannot ignore. And in contrast to trying to control, we must see the world in new ways and respond with more care and compassion.

Then again and again in my counseling work with couples, I’m reminded that we’re always dealing with differences and the inevitable conflicts, and how necessary it is to grow in acceptance and respect and give up trying to control the other. Isn’t it uncanny how we choose mates who cause us to mature and stretch in new ways, the very ways we need to? And they provide us with new opportunities to take care of some old, familiar, but unresolved business from our earlier years. We may not appreciate it at the time, but if we’re open to it, these relationships and the new growth bring healing and wholeness to our lives and help us to find our way more deeply into the spaciousness of love.

And then, just yesterday I was up in Milwaukee for the memorial service of my mother-in-law, Leor, the mother of my first wife, Judith. Leor’s death prompted so many thoughts about our relationship over 40 years time. I must admit that the early years could be characterized as, shall we say, classical mother-in-law/son-in-law. I was this less-than-mature, questioning, semi-agnostic seminarian, and she was a traditional Methodist, whose daughter left father and mother and followed me into the UCC, and into discovering that a little wine is good for the stomach and soul. But my relationship with Leor grew, especially as I took care of some of that earlier, unfinished business in my own life.

In these later years she’s delighted in reminding me of some of these things, and we could finally laugh and reminisce together. And the tragedy of Judith’s illness and death brought us even closer and into a deeper love and openness with each other. She blessed my marriage to Meg and we’ve stayed very close and shared much as she aged and became more disabled with Parkinson’s disease.

Her illness and death has been a time of remembering and a reminder of how much this has been for me another experience of dealing with differences, expanding and growing into new levels of relationship and love.

So, the Palm Sunday story and the events of Holy Week speak to us of faithfulness and the courage to love even in the face of difficulty and conflict, and even abandonment. Jesus spoke of a new way of seeing and of living and of ordering life differently. He proclaimed God’s concern for all people in this new empire, the kingdom of God, including those on the margins and the unlovable. He spoke of life together, embodying love, mutual care and nurture.

Jesus embraced this vision and lived it. In his life, and even in his death, he became an experience of God to others, challenging them to live into such a vision. His was a word and journey of love, and we are called to live in that love, as the body of Christ, ourselves prophets and teachers of that love.

As his followers we are reminded that in our own dealings with neighbors and strangers, and with one another, even in the face of differences and difficulty, pain and disappointment, even death and acts of evil against us, the recurring question is, "will you still love me?"

As we enter Holy Week and follow him into our new space and new future, let us be faithful and expansive in our loving, doing this in remembrance of him, and remembering also his last words, "I am with you always." Amen

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