Imagine the day. You’re six years old. For the last month you have been asking, “Is it my birthday yet?” When mom says, “next week” you wonder, “how long can that possibly be because it feels like forever.” The day, however, has arrived. You wake up and know that the house will soon be filled with your other six year old friends. The house is perfectly decked out in the chosen theme—superheroes. The you spot it—there is even an piñata.
Mom had suggested a piñata and Dad told you that you get so swing a bat and hit things—you were convinced! It was going to be the highlight of the party. Later that night, while you were sleeping Dad was given instructions to purchase the candy for inside the piñata. “We need ten pounds.” It is a big piñata and we don’t want any disappointed kids.
Dad took to the task heading off to the equivalent of BJ’’s for where else would you go to buy ten pounds of candy. And then he saw it. The display bin $5.99 for 5 lbs.” A smile came across his face. “My wife is going to think I am brilliant!” And for $12.00 he filled the piñata secure in the knowledge that he had done exactly what as asked—and did it for a bargain.
Your six year old friends file in dressed as their favorite superheroes. You run around in the backyard, play party games, eat cake and ice cream and open gifts. You save the piñata for last. Mom said it was because she wanted to save the best for last. We know better—she was getting them all sugar’d up and sending them home with a bag of piñata candy in hand. She is a smart momma.
Dad put the blindfold over your eyes and spun you three times and led you to the piñata. You swing with all your might. “Boom.” Your friends followed suit. With each hit, the piñata ripped and tore. The excitement was growing—when would it burst. Dad decided to take a turn. Mom spun him five times and walked him to the piñata. He swung and “Pow.” The piñata burst, leaving the broken pieces of cardboard dangling from the string and igniting a spray of sugar. There was such glee as the candy shot through the sky. You and your six-year old friends frantically ran to collect all that they could, stockpiling it in their party bags. Soon the excitement of the sugar spray was halted by a six year old voice, “What is this?”
The young six year old holds up a small white round candy, marked with red around the edges and then wrapped in clear plastic. All the six year olds who where captivated by the promise of candy began to realize that every single piece looked like this. The entire piñata had been filled with peppermints. No tootsie rolls, or skittles, or gummi bears. They did not stand beneath a spray of sugary goodness but ten pounds of bargain peppermints.
The kids picked up the remaining pieces, the joy of the moment having passed them by. You said goodbye and for years to come whenever you look at a peppermint you remember the great peppermint piñata fiasco.
I came across this story several years ago and have been waiting for a sermon to use it in. You may remember that I tried several years ago every printing the title Peppermints and Pinatas in the bulletin. The illustration didn’t make it into that sermon but I have hung on to it.
This week as I was preparing for Palm Sunday, I kept thinking about the shift that the people gathered on Palm Sunday to Good Friday. How are they so ready to throw a parade on Sunday and crucify him a mere five days later? I hadn’t made much progress on that and it hit me…the same way that a six year old birthday party goes from exhilarating to disappointing in a matter of moments. Granted it is on a much smaller scale but the principle is the same. There is such expectation attached to the piñata has it hangs on the tree—what is inside? What will it yield?
Jesus enters Jerusalem Nazareth in Galilee .”
Jesus is headed to Jerusalem Jerusalem Israel to its greatness, to its proper place as a chosen and prosperous city of God
You have your palms ready, you have brought your cloak so to set on the road and practice you best, “Hosannah.” The man who you had heard about shows up on a donkey and you would likely think, “this is weird.” Today we would wonder why he wasn’t accompanied by a large motorcade full of fanciful cars. But Jesus comes on a donkey.
I imagine if I were in the crowd, I would be filled with excitement---where is he going first? To take on Pilate? To preach an inspirational sermon in the temple? Do any of you know what follows according to Matthew’s gospel? The turning over the tables in the temple. Remember that scene. You can imagine the crowds thinking, “Seriously. We have been giving this guy on a donkey the royal treatment and the first thing he does is turn over tables in the temple and yell at us?” I’m out of here!”
The disappointment in Jesus continues and begins to turn toward anger. He is met the in cover of night by Judas and the chief priests. Instead of putting up a huge fight like you would expected from the-so-called savior of the world, he simply says to his betrayer, “Friend, do what you came for.”
It is clear from our text that even Jesus’ followers didn’t quite get it. Perhaps they were even sad that what was “coming out of the piñata” was not what they had hoped. A companion draws a sword and slices off an ear. Jesus stops the violence, reminding the crowd gathered that violence only yields more violence. Jesus has come to save the world from itself. Jesus reminds them, I could be exactly what you wanted—my father could send down legions of angels, but I have bigger plans.
What unfolds is the most well known story of our faith…Jesus is taken. He is questioned. He is beaten, He is mocked. He is spat on. When the crowds are given the opportunity to release him, they choose to release a common criminal and send Jesus up the hill to be crucified. The crowds hosannas were filled with such hope just five days earlier. Now, they are filled with anger at hope disappointed. Filled with contempt as they realize what will never be. This so-called-savior of the world walked up a hill, carrying a heavy burden—physically a cross beam, spiritually our sin. Bruised, broken and beat down, he was nailed to a the tree of torture, the cross. Even as he is dying, taking his last breath, he is mocked by criminals and soldiers. He hangs on the cross, a dead man, of no more worth—to the human eye—than the scraps of cardboard left from the busted piñata. There was such hope that he would be something, that from inside him would come salvation, redemption, exceeding joy. Yet, at the foot of the cross, as darkness covered the sky, he seemed the symbol of hope lost, disappointment. He is speared by a solider in the side, almost as if to see—“was there really goodness inside?”
And this is where the church waits. Acknowledging the ways that we are disappointed, the places where we look at Jesus and say, “I thought you were supposed to be this or that.” “I thought you were supposed to heal, to redeem, to save, to fight…” We journeying this holy week as one of the crowd, as one of those that was so excited and yet has also experienced disappointment. We journeying knowing too often, we want Jesus to give us the quick fixes, the victorious revenge, the prosperous partnership. We want. We want…
Yet, church, we acknowledge our hopes and disappointments, knowing the ending, knowing that this body, hanging from a tree is just what we need. He may not be, act and do what we expected, but he is the savior of the world, the savior of you, the savior of me.
So on this palm Sunday, let us gather with palms shouting hosanna filled with the wonder and excitement of a six year olds birthday party. And know that unexpected peppermints might just be the sweetest surprise.
No comments:
Post a Comment