PALM SUNDAY 2016 LUKE 19:28-40

April 23 is a famous day. For one, it’s Shakespeare’s birthday. For another, it’s St George’s Day, so if you’re English April 23 is a day to celebrate. But, thousands of miles west of England, April 23 1985 was a momentous, historic, even world-changing day for less joyous reason. Not a day of celebration, but of dismay; not of glory but of ugliness; not of jubilation but of catastrophe. April 23 1985. If you were alive that day, what were you doing? Where were you enjoying that beautiful spring morning, what daffodils were you picking, what blossoms were you sniffing, what birdsong were you enjoying? I hope you were oblivious to the pain caused by that day. I hope the agony did not trouble you or the despair come near your door. Because April 23 1985 will long live in the archives of infamy. They say it was Roberto Goizueta’s fault. It was he, they said, who unleashed this new horror onto an undeserving world. How could he do it, why would he do it? Was it the money, was it the power, was it the greedy human impulse to brook no rivals, to crush all opponents?

I don’t know. But one thing is certain. When Roberto Goizueta, the CEO of the Coca- Cola Company, sipped a glass of at its launch on April 23 1985, it spelled the end of the world for a legion of fans of the Real Thing. According to Wikipedia, many southerners, who considered Coke a vital part of their regional identity, viewed the change of formula through the lens of the Civil War, and as a surrender to the Yankees. The company received over 400,000 calls and letters including one delivered to Goizueta, that was addressed “to the Chief Dodo, The Coca-Cola Company". Another letter asked for his autograph, as the signature of "one of the dumbest executives in American business history". The company hotline received over 1,500 calls a day. Coke hired a psychiatrist to listen in on these calls, and after listening to a few they told executives that some callers were talking as if they were discussing the death of a family member. Even , apparently a longtime fan, called New Coke a sign of American capitalist decadence.

Isn’t it strange, the choices people make. A better one was the nation’s decision to ignore Benjamin Franklin when he suggested that the national bird of the newly formed United States should be the turkey. And what about the decision to name today ‘Palm Sunday’. Because I think the early church got it wrong. They picked the wrong name. Just now, when we just read the story of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, you may have noticed that Luke does not mention people waving palm branches. It’s not there. Now, his triumphal entry is one of the few events in the life of Jesus that are recorded by all four Gospel writers – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – but, get this, none of them mention the crowds waving palms. Two, but only two, mention the crowds cutting branches off trees and waving them, but neither of them specify that these branches were from palm trees.

So, I reckon, we’ve bene calling it wrong for 2000 years. This isn’t Palm Sunday at all. No. Today is ‘Coat Sunday’. Say it a few times and it won’t seem so silly. Coat Sunday. It’s Coat Sunday. Happy Coat Sunday. Coat Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. Because instead of waving palm branches as Jesus approached, Luke tells us

1 that people lay their coats on the ground for the donkey bearing Jesus to walk over. Just think - if the early church had called it Coat Sunday, this morning you would not now be holding little palm crosses, you be holding little coats. I’d tell you to take your little coat home and magnet it to the fridge. And next year on Ash Wednesday you could burn your little coat and smear the smoldering polyester on your forehead.

I think we need to do this. Because what does a palm symbolize anyway? When people cut branches off trees and waved them, what did it cost, what did they lose, how did they suffer? We can all cut branches off trees and wave them. It’s no big deal, there’s no great offering, it calls for no real sacrifice.

But chopping branches and waving palms are not the same as removing your coat and laying it down. I remember when I was very young reading a children’s story book with simple text but eloquent pictures. I remember one story, I forget its name, and actually, I don’t recall anything that happened in it except for one picture. A well-dressed young man from several centuries ago, with a feathered hat, buckled shoes, velvet cloak, and a sword at his side, was out walking with an equally well-dressed young woman wearing a dress so huge she could have smuggled a Mini Cooper under it. This was an elegant image of courtly love, and completely nauseating to a five year-old boy. Now as the courting couple made their sickening way down some country lane they approached a large puddle in the middle of the road. And just as every five year-old boy was wishing they would both step into it and disappear for ever, the laughing cavalier takes off his velvet cloak and lays it over the puddle for the lady, reeking of privilege, to step on. Because clearly sisters were not doing it for themselves back then. And they told us that this was what chivalrous young Englishman did. I just thought it was a shocking waste of money. But then, if the dude had the poor taste to wear a velvet cloak he probably deserved it.

And that is the point of laying down your coat, isn’t it? It’s a lofty act of sacrifice, an offering that truly costs. Don’t forget what is going to step on your coat - not a fragrant English lady, but a dirty, smelly donkey. It’s one thing to wave a branch, it’s quite another to lay down your coat.

When you lay down your coat one side will get caked with mud, the other will become a canvass for filthy hooves. When you lay down your coat you will truly honor the coming King, you will see the divine radiance in the face of the man seated on the donkey’s back, the one who comes in the name of the Lord, and you will not be afraid to worship and cry “Hosanna”. When you lay down your coat you will lower your defenses, you will remove your protection, you will shed your façade. When you lay down your coat, you will stand in your vulnerable skin and trust God to watch over you. When you lay down your coat you will identify with those who have no coat because life has left them coatless.

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When you lay down your coat you will have skin in the game. The solemn but resolute plod towards the city – the city of conflict, betrayal, and injustice, will be the journey you too will make this Holy Week. When you lay down your coat you will also lay down your life, like the coming king on the back of the beast. But like the sovereign on the donkey, when you lay down your life, you will pick it up again – new, transformed, and glorious on Easter morning.

It will be easier this Holy Week to wave a branch. It asks for nothing, it costs you nothing. Waving a branch is a happy thing, like waving a streamer at a New Year’s Eve party, like waving a flag on a national holiday, like waving your bingo card when you have all the numbers. It will be easier this Holy Week to wave a branch, because that is what they will tell you to do. When the sovereign dismounts and on Monday strides into the temple to pray, only to be confronted by money-changers and livestock sellers, they will tell you to keep your head down. They will tell you to ignore the injustice, turn away from the blasphemy, tolerate the idolatry. They will tell you to wave a branch.

On Tuesday when the sovereign crosses swords with corrupt religious leaders who try to trick him and trap him, they will tell you to retreat, keep silent, look at the floor. They will tell you to wave a branch.

On Thursday when they come to arrest the sovereign, they will look, too, at you and they will tell you to run, to hide, to save your soul. They will tell you to wave a branch.

And on Friday when they haul the sovereign before a kangaroo court on trumped up charges, when they strip him, whip him and leave him half-dead, when they nail his hands and feet and watch him die, they will tell you he was deluded, they will tell you he was misled, they will tell you to be on your way and forget him. They will tell you it is a good job you hadn’t laid down your coat last Sunday, it’s good you weren’t committed, good you weren’t invested. They will tell you to wave a branch.

And on Sunday when the tomb of the sovereign is empty, when the women are saying they’ve seen him, when he stands before you and smiles, you will rejoice that you did not merely wave a branch like you were watching Macy’s Parade. You took off your coat, you laid it in front of the donkey, you followed all the way to the cross, and now you live in the joy of the risen sovereign.

Coats in biblical times were more than just the outer layer of clothing that they are to us. This was especially true if you were homeless. If you were without home or income your coat was your most treasured possession. Possibly your only possession. It was the blanket that kept you warm at night. During the day it was the sofa you sat on. Your coat was also your wallet, you would hide your money in the seams and the crevasses. So, your coat was a symbol of safety, protection, material security; in fact, it represented your whole life and your entire identity. Now do you see why today is really Coat Sunday? This changes everything. Coat Sunday challenges us in way that Palm Sunday does not. Instead of bystanders we are called to be participants. Instead of

3 uninvested observers, uncommitted onlookers, fickle fans, we are part of the drama. You see that coat, the one the donkey is on right now - I laid that, it was mine. You see that symbol of my security, that thing I have always trusted in, that object that give some happiness, safety, comfort – yes, that is my life that I have laid down, to be trampled by donkeys. You see that man on the beast, I follow him. He is my Lord, my Messiah, my sovereign. And in a minute, when the procession is over, I’m going with him.

What will you do this Holy Week, wave a branch or lay down your coat? One is easy, the other formidable; one is free, the other is costly; one disappears when the froth dies away, the other persists through conflict and cross. In theory, we have a choice, don’t we? But we don’t really. Because we have been this way before, and we know that without laying down our coats we cannot enjoy life in its fullness. The love of God compels us once more. No cross, no resurrection. And so our hearts tell us “lay down your coat, lay down your life, and then in seven days let that man who was carried by a donkey pick it up and hand it back to you – new, clean, no trace of mud or hooves.” Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.

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