Psalm 118 (selection), Matt 21:1-11

When I was studying at Rueschlikon in Switzerland we had some opportunities to visit other Baptist churches in Europe as students to gain experience in ministry and to make links for the seminary. One church we visited a couple of times was the Baptist Church on the outskirts Venice. Of course we took the opportunity to visit the island itself. I was fascinated by the postcards of Venice during Carnivale - the pre-Lenten festival - where citizens dressed in amazing medieval costumes complete with elaborate masks. I was determined to visit the city during Carnivale and managed to do so in our final semester with a group of other students. (David stayed at the seminary - he was much more diligent in his study than I was). It was a wonderful spectacle, but the religious background makes it even more interesting. The very name Carnivale refers to the pleasures of the flesh. Carnivale is a time to let the hair hang down, to indulge in revelry and mad behaviour, all safely concealed behind the mask: the last fling before the 6 week Lenten period when discipline, denial and decorum were expected by the church.

The festival atmosphere of Palm Sunday is similar to this - an opportunity for some lightness before the bleak journey through Holy Week leading up to Good Friday. In the context of the gospel it comes between two bleak stories. For a third time Jesus tells his disciples of his impending death and becomes frustrated when they just don't get it - as they hear him describe the dangers of Jerusalem they quarrel over who will have an honoured place in his kingdom. Straight after the triumphal entry comes the story of the cleansing of the temple - one event in the gospels where we find Jesus showing anger. But as he enters Jerusalem on a donkey he is welcomed, respected, his requests are immediately met and he is honoured with shouts of acclamation from the festival passages of the Old Testament. Some people think it may have been the time of the Festival of Booths, since palm branches were readily to hand. We think that children were part of the story - we know that whole families took part in festival events and a few verses later Matthew records the same shouts of hosanna as coming from the lips of children.

Coming right at the end of the Lenten period Palm Sunday is somewhat of an oasis in an otherwise bleak landscape. A time for peace and joy and calm before the storm.

I had the privilege of seeing the movie Hotel Rwanda on Tuesday night. It made quite an impact on me so I'm going to refer to it several times. The film is based on a true story that occurred during the terrible genocide in Rwanda in 1994 when over a million people were murdered in the Hutu-Tutsi conflicts. The film focuses on an ordinary man, Paul Rusesabagina, who worked as a hotel manager in an international hotel in the capital Kigali. When fighting began near his home he moved his family and a few neighbours into the hotel to keep them safe. Over the next few days he found himself taking responsibility for over a thousand people who for one reason or another took refuge in the hotel - people from both Tutsi and Hutu ethnicity. Several times his own life was at risk as he negotiated for the safety of his guests. Eventually all of them were able to escape Kigali to a neutral UN refugee camp, and several families, including Paul's own family, were given refuge in other countries.

The film is not light-hearted. There are violent scenes and gut wrenching images of bloated dead bodies as far as the eye can see. But early in the film, despite the crowded street scenes of an African nation, the uneasy menace of detached radio voices inciting unrest, and the build-up of machetes and guns, the scenes in the hotel itself are lovely. It is a setting of international goodwill and luxury - guests enjoy fine whiskey, gourmet dinners, in the sunny garden children are diving into a swimming pool, guests flirt with each other against the ambiance of a grand piano being played in the lobby. There is a festive atmosphere, the hotel is an oasis in the otherwise bleak landscape. Indeed, as it turns out, these scenes are the calm before the storm.

It is hard to know what Jesus would have been feeling that day as he rode into Jerusalem. He seemed to be resolute - he knew Jerusalem was a dangerous place but he set his face to go there anyway. That must have taken some courage. I wonder if he felt the weight of expectations - certainly we have the impression that the disciples were expecting great things of him - maybe now he would come into his own. Maybe there really would be a kingdom and a crown here with this sort of public support. Maybe success and glory were within their grasp.

Whether the disciples recognised it or not, Matthew certainly sent some signals as he told the story as to whether the expectations of the messiah would be fulfilled. The fact that he rode in on a donkey, for one, not a warhorse. The quotation from Zechariah which significantly leaves out the words "triumphant and victorious". The praises from some parts of the crowd and questions from others - who is this? An answer that mentioned Nazareth - an insignificant town of which the most that could be said was "can anything good come from it?" The mention as the story goes on that the blind and the lame came to him to be cured - people who heard this story would remember that King David of Israel had ordered that blind and lame were not allowed to come to the temple - but this Son of David was welcoming them and ministering to them. His recognition of the praise of children. In fact there was much less glory and success and triumph than humbleness, disquiet and attention to the marginalised. Jesus rode on into Jerusalem, knowing that the expectations of the crowd and his disciples would be disappointed. That took a special kind of courage.

We don't see this sort of courage in either our society or our church very much. There is a lamentable lack of willingness to get involved. Instead we opt for easy answers or diversions. There is a powerful scene in Hotel Rwanda when a foreign journalist is embarrassed that Paul witnesses his elation at shooting scenes of slaughter and mayhem that is good enough to lead that night's News Bulletin. But Paul dismisses his apology because as he says, when the rest of the world see what is going on they will come to our aid. The cynical but, as it turned out, accurate response from the journalist was "nothing will change. People will look at it say that's terrible and then go back to their dinners." This film has raised some hard questions for me. How did I hear the news of the events in Rwanda 10 years ago with such disinterest? What do we make of the fact that a high percentage of Rwandans who participated in the genocide were churchgoers? Do I think that the world should have responded with an armed force in that situation? One thing I do know - Palm Sunday reminds us that Jesus was not on about a quiet, pietistic, escapist religion. He was riding on into Jerusalem with courage, knowing that it would not be an easy journey. And he is out there calling us to take up our cross and follow him.

Something that the film Hotel Rwanda did show was the ability of each of us to make a difference in our own situation. You could say Paul was an accidental hero - he became a hero by circumstance. And yet he made choices that showed great courage. At the beginning of the film he shut his gate on a scene of a neighbour being beaten up. When his wife asked him "Can't we do something?" he responded "We can only look after our own family." In the course of the next few days he reached the point of risking his own life to show solidarity with the many others who came across his path - not important people who might be able to do him a favour but the "little ones": orphans, hotel staff, elderly neighbours. His view of family had broadened. His sense of compassion had grown. It took a disaster to bring that about, but I think he remained a changed man.

Following the tsunami last year a Sri Lankan man was reported as saying that a wave of destruction had crashed upon his people, but when he looked to the horizon he saw another wave rising: an even taller, deeper more powerful wave of compassion. I would think that the film Hotel Rwanda will evoke a similar wave of compassion for us in relation to our neighbours around the world. It is too late to respond to the terrible events in Rwanda, but there will be others. And it will also remind us that we are not called to save the whole world. One of the disturbing things about Hotel Rwanda was the necessity of focussing on one group of people and cheering them on as they escape the slaughter, but seeing them leave Rwanda in buses that drove past burning villages, hundreds of bloated dead bodies, thousands of refugees trudging along the road still at risk of their lives.

But this narrow focus was also encouraging. Paul was not called to save the whole world, or even the whole of his own nation. But he was called to realise he had a responsibility for those who had by association or circumstance come across his path. The fact that he was responsible for saving the lives of over 1000 is remarkable and that's what makes it a great story. He acted with love and courage and at times cunning - many times in the expectation that he would lose his own life. But in the end, he was determined to do what he could. As the promotional leaflet on the film says: "While the rest of the world closed its eyes, Paul opened his heart and proved that one good man can make a difference."

I'm not really sure what could be described as the turning point for Paul Rusesabagina in Hotel Rwanda. Perhaps it was stumbling onto a road filled with dead bodies, and the knowledge that this was the likely fate of all who were in his care if he gave them up to the rebels. But I do know that as the story unfolded and his capacity for compassion grew, his courage also grew.

It is good that we join in the festive atmosphere of this day in our church calendar. I hope 2000 years ago that Jesus felt loved and welcomed and was able to have a good time. Coming to Jerusalem was risky, and it took courage, but it would make a difference to many lives. We might not be able to save the whole world, but Jesus could, but only because he had the courage to go on that journey. Let me read another of Bruce Prewer's thought-provoking poems - one that reminds us we have a choice as to how we will respond to this story.

THE ARRIVAL
On the day
when Jesus the prophet
arrived in our town,
Joe Farmer was very busy
choosing a new car.
He heard the distant cheering:
"Hosanna! Blessed is he 
who comes in the name of the Lord."
Mentally he made a note
and promised himself
hear the prophet; 
some day,
not now.
Joe was far too occupied
with trade-in price,
fuel consumption,
and the virtues of the ST
or the LJ model,
and whether either car
was better
than his neighbour's.
 
At coffee break
22 year old Esther Romantic
also heard the uproar
coming from High Street.
She felt an impulse
to go and join the crowd
with those who welcomed
the prophet, 
for stories about him
had strangely 
shaken and encouraged her.
But Esther's wedding day
was only seven weeks off
and she still had thinking to do
about the flowers,
shade of eye shadow,
or whether on the tables
she wanted with every place card
a wishbone. 
 
For Jim Smiley
the real estate agent
it was infuriating:
Time was money!
Here he was stuck in a traffic jam
in the middle of town,
thanks to these idiots
with grins, slogans and palm branches,
supporting this new fool
Jesus
who had said some rotten things
about real estate.
Jim was due in four minutes
at Toorak Place
to meet with a wealthy client.
Jim yelled at a policeman
patrolling the edge of the procession:
"How about some law and order!"
 
Some did not even hear
the cheering
nor cared.
Beth Goldsmith
with fingers covered with rings
was watching "Days of our lives"
when the prophet
walked within one block
of her residence.
They interrupted the programme
for an eyewitness report
on the progress
of the street demo.
Beth took the opportunity
to fetch another pot of coffee
and two aspirin.
 
Professor Nicodemus
was lecturing at the Uni.
He noted the small number
who had turned up today,
and even they were restless.
He asked the reason.
They gave him the news
that the prophet Jesus
was leading a demo
to the Central Mall.
On an impulse Nicodemus
dismissed the surprised students
and hurried off down High Street
where, somewhat embarrassed,
he joined the crowd and found
himself shouting "Hosanna!"
At the sound of his own voice,
the Prof felt his own soul-
as if a birth was about to take place-
leap for joy within!
And it seemed as if all things
were becoming new.

Opportunity knocks. Sometimes. 

Will we hear the Palm Sunday story today and forget it again till next year? Or will we hear the invitation to follow, in both the sunshine and the shadow? Will we do what we can in the places to which we are called? We can't save the world - but maybe this week we can make a difference in someone else's life. Palm Sunday invites us to share God's love with courage and determination. Amen.