April 13, 2003
Palm Sunday

Today I want to talk not so much about Palm Sunday as the day after Palm Sunday. Jesus had a wonderful Palm Sunday experience; he rode into Jerusalem to the tremendous shouts of the people of the city, who proclaimed him the true Messiah, the savior of all Jews everywhere. The gospel of Mark then records that Jesus played tourist. He entered the temple, and when he had looked round at everything, as it was already late, he went back to his motel room in Bethany with the twelve.

But then came Monday morning, How many of us have trouble getting started on Monday morning? How many of us have a tendency to be a little grumpy Monday morning? Yeah, I’m guilty on both counts. Now If you take our Gospel lesson at face value, it would seem that Jesus, oddly enough, also gets a little testy on Mondays. First, Jesus and the boys get up and start for Jerusalem, but there’s no place to stop for an egg mcmuffin, and he’s hungry. What does he spy but a fig tree in leaf, meaning springtime, the fruit has not yet developed. What’s he do? He curses the fig tree. “May nobody ever eat your figs again.” Real mature, Jesus.

Apparently he never does find anything to eat by the time he arrives at the temple. Remember Palm Sunday when he was content to look around? The same buyers and sellers are still there who were there the day before, but this time Jesus goes ballistic. He drives them all out, knocking over tables, sending coins flying, letting loose the pigeons that were caged up for sacrifices.

Can’t you just see that picture? A lot of people’s robes were painted white as all those pigeons got loose. And try to imagine all the faces of the disciples who were used to a mild-mannered Jesus, suddenly transformed into this weirdo who cusses out fruit trees and busts up the marketplace.

Now before we move on in this story I want to tell you about my Monday morning last week. I’ve been in my job at the newspaper since 1976, and there are days when it feels I could do it in my sleep, and then there are days when it feels like I got hit by a 2x4. When I got to work last Monday I found that the ceiling had partially collapsed and everything on the one desk was soaked, including a fried phone. It seems that the elderly lady who lives upstairs had a leaky toilet, and I guess she called somebody who didn’t know what they were doing, and, well, you get the picture.

There were other little problems I won’t bore you with, let’s just say that I did not feel either very Godly or very loving that day, but eventually I got over being a grump.

Now I’m sharing this with you to remind us all that the point of coming here Sunday after Sunday is to prepare ourselves so that for the rest of the week, the rest of our lives, we will bear spiritual fruit. Time after time in the scriptures, Jesus drives home the point that words without actions are meaningless—less than meaningless, they are hypocritical. You can sing all the Hosannas you want on Sunday morning, but if you can’t share Jesus with others on Monday, you haven’t borne good fruit.

And the story of the fig tree is used next to the story of Jesus cleansing the temple to make a simple illustration: the Israelites had not flourished and yielded good fruit despite all the efforts of the divine gardener.

On the following morning, the Tuesday of Holy Week, Jesus and the disciples again walked into town from Bethany and passed the same fig tree. Once again it’s Peter, the guy with the big mouth, who has to say, “Master, you really took care of that fig tree. That baby’s never gonna bear fruit again.” What does Jesus reply? Four little words, church. Say them with me: Have Faith In God. There is so much packed into those words, and the few sentences that follow. He’s trying to give his disciples a lesson so that in the days to come, their faith won’t wither. And like all his lessons, the story of the fig tree is a parable.

This message breaks down into four components. The first is the most obvious: Jesus is giving a command, Have faith. But he’s also explaining a truth: faith can move mountains, if it’s great enough. He’s explaining procedure or protocol, if you will: “Whatever you ask for in prayer, believe, and it will be yours.” Finally, it’s a warning. When you pray, don’t come before God with grudges in your heart against anyone. Forgive them first, so that you can be forgiven. Let’s look at these issues in more detail.

First of all, Christ is giving us a command: have faith in God means applying what we know about God to the challenges in our lives. Now I know that none of you think of yourselves as theologians, and yet you are, in a very real, very important way. You know who God is, you know what he does, but the trick is to apply that knowledge when we get up against some of the tough times in life. Christ says Don’t try to outguess yourself. Don’t make things overly complicated. Have faith.

When should we do that?

When we’re anxious, have faith in God. He promised that all things work together for good to those who love the Lord.

When we’re disappointed, have faith in God. He promised to bring good out of bad in the lives of his children.

When we’re angry, have faith in God. He promised to wipe away every tear when we reach Heaven.

When we’re impoverished or hungry, have faith in God. He promised to meet every need.

When facing sickness or death, have faith in God. He gives eternal life.

When we’re lonely, have faith in God. He is always near, and he promised never to forsake us.

Now, I said Jesus was explaining a truth: faith can move mountains. A person of faith can throw a mountain right into the sea.

That statement alone makes skeptics turn off, and even believers have trouble with it. “Well, yeah, Jesus, maybe you could do it, but what about us.” There’s a great scene in one of the Star Wars movies where Luke Skywalker gets his little spaceship stuck in a swamp, and Yoda, his teacher, is trying to explain that the Force can be used to raise the ship out of the muck. Luke tries and tries and can’t do it, and then Yoda, who looks like Mickey Rooney with bat ears, he sticks out his hand and lifts that ship onto solid ground. He turns to Luke and says, “There is no try. There is only do, or not do.”

And I can hear you say, “yeah, pastor, that’s only a movie.” But remember what I said, this is all a parable. The mountain stands for whatever in our lives is keeping up from the wholeness of life in Christ, which could be any number of things, but many people are held back by their fears. We fear being called out of our comfort zone, afraid to look foolish in the eyes of the world, afraid that love extended will not be returned. Look at me, folks: What Christ is saying is so important to catch: “If you want to get past your fears badly enough, you will have faith sufficient to do the job.”

And that leads right into the third component of the parable: prayer is a procedure in faith. Every week we recite the Lord’s Prayer together and say Your will be done, and if we’re sincere, if we surrender our will in favor of God’s will, there are no limits on what can happen. When we pray according to God’s word and God’s will, we are claiming what he has already granted, his power. Kevin Riggs, a pastor in Tennessee, wrote that “There is nothing in heaven more powerful than people of faith who, on their knees with an open Bible, trust God amid life’s impossibilities.”

Finally, we hear from Christ a warning: “Whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him. But if you do not forgive, neither will your father in heaven forgive you. Again, Jesus and the disciples were about to be badly abused. He was warning that a cold, unforgiving heart would destroy their effectiveness in prayer. And we run into the same problems.

If you try to pray and hold a grudge against somebody at the same time, it’s like…well, have you ever seen a woman trying to drive and put on makeup at the same time? You just know she’s going to wander off the track. Too much distraction.

If you resent somebody, that’s like turning a fire hose on your faith. Forgive first, and then pray. Release your anger. Remember the cross where Jesus died to forgive our sins and those of the whole world.

Biblical faith is a commitment of the whole person, with no reservations. It’s more than hope that good things will happen, it’s an unshakable faith that a loving God is committed to our welfare. And that’s rare. A person of faith commits his or her mind and spirit, everything that makes him or her unique, to Jesus Christ, including trust. Complete trust, no doubts, no looking back.

There once was a Frenchman who was renowned for his ability to walk on high wires. So famous was the Frenchman that an American promoter offered him a great amount of money to come to Niagara Falls and walk across on a high wire. The Frenchman has supreme faith in his own ability and accepted the challenge. Not only did he walk across once, he did it again, this time pushing a wheelbarrow in front of him. The Frenchman was met with the cheers of the crowd and the praise of the promoter, who assured him that he too had always had faith that the Frenchman would succeed.

So elated was the Frenchman with that expression of faith that he offered to walk across the falls once more, for free, if the promoter this time would ride in the wheelbarrow. Needless to say, the promoter declined. That kind of trusting faith, as I said, is rare.

The author of the letter to the Hebrews describes faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Many hundreds of years ago the common view of the world was the Christian point of view, and this was called the age of faith. But then came the Renaissance, and what is known as the Enlightenment, and the scientific view of the world that came to dominate people’s thinking remains very much in force today. And the scientific point of view, which always wants proof that can be tested and reproven, is supposed to make faith difficult, if not impossible. But I would argue that the progression of human knowledge makes faith stronger, not weaker.

A minister went to call on a woman whose husband had just died, to arrange for his funeral. Her husband had not been a church-goer, but the widow wanted to convince the pastor of her husband’s goodness, so she said, “Henry was a believer. He believed there is a God.”

 You can sympathize with her, but I wonder if she would have accepted that kind of faith from her husband. Suppose in her early years of marriage she had asked, “Henry, do you believe in me?” Suppose he had said “Yes, Mary, I believe you exist.” She would have brained him with the frying pan.

Knowledge can never be passive. The scientist who discovers the truth about nature is always driven to discover further truth. Catch this—he always has faith that there is more truth to discover. Furthermore, he has faith that the world exists in an order and logic that provides a framework for experimentation. In other words, if something were true yesterday, it will be true tomorrow. The scientists seeks to explain that order and logic, and that quest leads him to the author of this great drama we call life. Knowledge will never replace faith, it will only enhance it.

Similarly, faith is self-perpetuating: the more faith you have, the more you are likely to develop. That’s the message of the psalmist who writes, “Don’t fret over the evil that roams the world. Don’t be jealous of the ones who get ahead cheating. Be still. Be patient. Wait for the Lord, and he will answer your questions. Those who wait for the Lord will possess the land.”

That land may lie beyond what you can see, the Lord is always in the background, bringing justice to his people, preparing them to inherit his kingdom.

Finally, as we conclude our worship today, I want to tell you what happened on April 13 261 years ago. In Dublin, Ireland, on this date in 1742, Handel’s Messiah was first performed. Since that day it has been the world’s single most performed piece of music. Almost everybody is familiar with the Hallelujah Chorus. You might even be familiar with the tradition that audiences stand when the singers reach that part of the score. But you may not know why that is.

According to legend, King George I of England attended one of the early performances of the Messiah, which can last more than three hours if sung intact. The Hallelujah Chorus sits about two hours into the score.

Now back then it was routine for king and commoner alike to bring a couple bottles of wine and drink them during a concert, and King George apparently stood up to go to the privy just as the Hallelujah Chorus was getting started. When the king stands up, everybody stands up, and King George was too embarrassed to have everybody know where he was going, so he just stood there and then sat down at the end. The Messiah had another hour to go, and legend does not record whether the king sat there with his legs crossed for the rest of the concert, but ever since then, people have stood up for the Hallelujah Chorus whether they had to go to the bathroom or not.

I don’t tell you that story for your amusement, but to remind you of the last line of the Hallelujah Chorus. “And he shall reign forever and ever.” Each voice, the soprano, altos, tenors and basses, picks up that line and runs with it, overlapping, dancing, tumbling joyfully together like water over the rocks of a stream until they come back together for one last mighty Hallelujah! Christ reigns!

Basically our faith comes down to this: we believe that Christ shall win the final victory over sin and death, over evil and hell, and that victory will last forever. If we truly believe that, if we take that faith into our hearts, then anything that happens to us in this life doesn’t matter, because we’re only passing through anyway. Are we afraid of terrorists? The worst they can do is take my life and send me to Heaven. Let them come! Our fears are the biggest mountain we will ever have to move. Faith in the risen and reigning Christ will let us throw the mountain into the sea.