Make no mistake about it: Jesus’ entry into the city of Jerusalem – what we celebrate and remember on Palm Sunday – is a staged event. It is street theatre. Jesus has arranged for, and choreographed, a kind of living parable. It is the most overtly political act of Jesus’ life. It is the day he has been preparing for since he was baptized by John in the Jordan. That event – his baptism – and this event – his entry into Jerusalem – are the bookends, the beginning and end of his public ministry.

His entrance into the holy city astride an animal is deliberately reminiscent of the return of kings in triumph from battle… except for this: Jesus has no sword, no lance, no shield and no helmet. And except for this: kings processed astride great steeds. Jesus rides a donkey.

What he does have are the words of Isaiah’s prophecy echoing in his mind: “Tell the daughter of Zion … your king is coming to you …humble … and riding on a donkey.”. What he also has are God’s words from the day of his baptism: “This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.” In other words, he knows who he is, to whom belongs, and what he is about. It is this knowledge, this identity that gives him the courage to face his destiny.

He enters the city where a hostile Empire and powerful and menacing religious leaders hold sway. They want him out of the way. Yet, he deliberately enters the city vulnerable to whatever his enemies may choose to do to him.

As Jesus nears the city, word passes quickly. People stream out to join the procession – throwing down their cloaks and cutting palm branches to spread on the way before him. “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” They are hungry for a king who will rescue them from their Roman oppressors … and they are just plain hungry, poor, dog tired and in need. Hearing the clamor, more and more people stream out of homes and shops to watch and wonder and some even to participate. There are Roman soldiers, and religious leaders among them. “Who is this?” “Who is he?” they ask.

It must have been a terrifying experience for Jesus. He is exposed and vulnerable to his enemies. Yet, Jesus knows who he is, to whom he belongs, and what he is about this day. It is this knowledge that gives him courage as he rides into Jerusalem to his destiny.

As you hold that image of Jesus in your minds’ eyes, I invite you to see a different man in a different great city, as he in his turn walks toward his destiny, among people who are overtly hostile to him.

It is 1921 and George Washington Carver has been summed to Washington DC to appear before the House Ways and Means Committee to explain his work on the peanut … on its medicinal as well as its commercial potential.¹  Carver has waited all day for his turn. As the only African American in the room he is last of a long list of speakers. All day he has felt the hostility of others toward him. He has felt by turns uneasy and terrified.

At last his turn comes and he is called forward. He rises and begins the long walk toward the front of the hall. As he walks down the aisle he is met with derisive and bigoted comments. One of the committee members yells out a crude and cutting remark. It hurts, but Carver ignores the remark and continues down the aisle. Another committee member leans back in his chair, places his feet up on the table and puts his hat over his face as if to go to sleep. When the chairman of the Ways and Means Committee instructs the member to take off his hat, he responds with a loud, ugly racial slur.

At this point, Carver is ready to turn around and go home. He is afraid of the powerful men in the room – of their hostility and hate – and he wants to flee to safety. But he doesn’t. Instead, like Jesus, he reminds himself of his baptism and of who he is. “Whatever they say of me, I know who I am:  I am a child of God.” By his baptism, he knows who he is, to whom he belongs and what he is about. It is an identity to give one courage.

Carver finally reaches the podium and is told that he has twenty minutes to speak. He opens his display case and starts to talk. Well, so engaging is his presentation that those twenty minutes fly by. The Chairman rises and asks for an extension of time and no one opposes the request.

Carver is granted four additional extensions of time and, in the end, speaks for several hours to a rapt audience. At the conclusion of his presentation, the members of the House Ways and Means Committee stand and, to a man, they give George Washington Carver – scientist and former slave – a long round of applause.

By our baptisms we know who we are and to whom we belong.

Today, together, in front of God and everybody, we baptized a child, an infant, into the Christian life. This is not merely a pretty ritual. It is, instead, an act of courage and of defiance: an act of naming and claiming … naming who we are and to whom we belong. By this act, we claim we belong to God and not to the world; we are answerable to God and not to kings and potentates; our lives are measured not by wealth or respectability or power, but by our obedience to the moral law of God. It is an identity to give one courage.

God knows it takes courage to live faithfully today. It takes courage to stand for peace, to work for peace, and to believe in peace in the midst of a culture that supports, even believes in, war. But through our baptism God calls us to beat swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks and this call, direct from God, is enough to give us courage.

It takes courage to face illnesses, to grow old and to face death … our own or those of people whom we love. But by our baptism we measure our lives not by our mortality, but by our immortality. It is enough to give us courage.

Old South Church has a new fellowship group … a mother’s group that has just begun to meet. For their second meeting they are taking up the topic of courage. It takes courage to be and become a parent today; it takes courage to bring a child into this frightening world. It takes courage to love fiercely. As they meet and talk about courage, perhaps these mothers will talk together about their Christian baptism, about their identities as beloved children of God and that they will find courage in that identity.

Just as Jesus choreographed a little street theater in the first century, so have we today. With our children and or palms, with our hymns and our shouts of hosanna, we declare our intention to follow a God who will not rule by brute force and coercion, but by the power of love, forgiveness and hope. We declare that in the act of baptism we have been named and claimed to follow a King whose kingdom is not of this world, who challenges the powers and principalities, but who has no army, armor, or armory with which to protect himself or to coerce others.

By our baptism, we know who we are and to whom we belong. It is an identity to give one courage.

So, if you are ever asked the purpose of Christian baptism, you can tell the story of George Washington Carver. And then, tell your story: tell them who you are and to whom you belong.
 

1. Bausch, William, More Compelling Stories, p. 55f
 
 

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