SOMETHING MORE THAN PALMS

SOMETHING MORE THAN PALMS

Palm Sunday — April 7, 1968

 
 
THREE DAYS AFTER the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., a day declared by then–President Lyndon B. Johnson as a national day of mourning, for Christians, it was Palm Sunday.
 
THERE IS NO ROOM for violence and destruction in this great country, whether it be the rioting and violence of Black America or the subtle and poisonous mind of racial prejudice, which reaches out and cuts us from within, time after time, to destroy and dehumanize our civilization. 
 
Jesus, —knowing he would meet death, returned to Jerusalem. He wept bitterly over that city. He died for that city and the world, but his truth goes marching on.
 
Zechariah 9:9 – The Coming Ruler of God’s People
 
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
    Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
    triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on an ass,
    on a colt the foal of an ass.
 
Zechariah (9:9), the prophet, has spoken. In 530 B.C., he “began to prophesy,” the period following the Jewish people's return from exile. It was also the period of Jewish history when the people's hearts and minds were heavy and filled with hopelessness and discouragement; we catch something of this in the 5th chapter of Lamentations.
 
Lamentations 5:1 – A Plea for Mercy 
 
“Remember, O Lord, what has befallen us; 
behold, and see our disgrace! 
Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers, 
our homes to aliens.” 
 
Into this setting, Zechariah came. Empathizing with the feelings of his people — reaching out to them, loving them — knowing of their discouragement and hopelessness, he gave them hope. He prophesied, saying: 
 
Zechariah 10:6 & 12 – Restoration of Judah and Israel
 
“I will strengthen the house of Judah, 
and I will save the house of Joseph. 
I will bring them back because I have compassion on them, 
and they shall be as though I had not rejected them; 
for I am the Lord their God and I will answer them. 

12 I will make them strong in the Lord 
and they shall glory in his name,” 
says the Lord.” 
 
Zechariah has spoken… 
 
Zechariah 9:9 – The Coming Ruler of God’s People
 
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! 
Shout aloud, O Daughter of Jerusalem! 
Lo, your king comes to you 
triumphant and victorious is he, 
humble and riding on an ass, 
on a colt the foal of an ass.” 
 
And some five hundred years later, he did come. He marched triumphantly and victoriously into the city of Jerusalem.
 
He came riding an ass as Zechariah had prophesied.
 
“Spread on the ground before him were garments and branches of palm trees.”
 
“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” — “Hosanna in the Highest!”
 
Use Our Imagination
 
We, too, can see Him —there. He is among the throng. A vast multitude has come out to –– greet him. Some are waving. Some are shouting. Some are present out of curiosity; I know of no greater description of this event than in Lloyd C. Douglas's book, The Robe, where the enslaved Greek Demetrius was caught in the press of that crowd. 
 
THE ROBE  by Lloyd C. Douglas – Excerpts from Chapter V
 
“Standing on tiptoe for an instant in the swaying crowd, Demetrius caught a fleeting glimpse of the obvious centre of interest, a brown-haired, bareheaded, well–favoured Jew. A tight little circle had been left open for the slow advance of the shaggy white donkey on which he rode. It instantly occurred to Demetrius that this coronation project was an impromptu affair for which no preparation had been made.
 
Certainly, there were no efforts to bedeck the pretender with royal regalia. Instead, he was clad in a simple brown mantle with no decorations of any kind, and the handful of men — his intimate friends, no doubt — who tried to shield him from the pressure of the throng wore the commonest sort of country garb. 
 
Again Demetrius, regaining his lost balance, stretched to a full height for another look at the man who somehow evoked all this wild adulation. It was difficult to believe that this sort of person could be expected to inflame a mob into some bold action. Yet, instead of receiving the applause with an air of triumph or satisfaction, the unresponsive man on the white donkey seemed sad about the whole affair. He looked as if he would gladly have had none of it. 
 
‘Can you see him?’ called the little Athenian, who had stuck fast in the sticky-hot pack an arm's length away. 
 
Demetrius nodded without turning his head. 
 
‘Old man?’
 
‘No, not very,’ answered Demetrius, candidly remote. 
 
‘What does he look like?’ shouted the Athenian impatiently. 
 
Demetrius shook his head — and his hand, too — signaling that he couldn’t be bothered now, especially with questions as hard to answer as this one.
 
‘Look like a king?’ yelled the little Greek, guffawing boisterously. 
 
Demetrius did not reply. Tugging at his impounded garments, he crushed his way forward. The surging mass, pushing hard from the rear, now carried him on until he was borne almost into the very hub of the procession that edged along, step-by-step, keeping pace with the plodding donkey... 
 
...Now, there was a temporary blocking of the way, and the noisy procession stopped. The man on the white donkey straightened as if roused from a reverie, sighed deeply, and slowly turned his head. Demetrius watched with parted lips and a pounding heart… 
 
…Everyone was shouting — all but the Corinthian slave, whose throat was so dry he couldn't have shouted, who had no inclination to shout, who wished they would all be quiet, quiet! It wasn't the time or place for shouting. Quiet! This man wasn't the sort of person one shouted at or shouted for. Quiet! That was what this moment called for — Quiet! 
 
Gradually, the brooding eyes moved over the crowd until they came to rest on the strained, bewildered face of Demetrius. The eyes calmly appraised Demetrius. They neither widened nor smiled; even so, in some indefinable manner, they held Demetrius in a grip so firm it was almost a physical compulsion. The message, they communicated, was something other than sympathy, something more vital than friendly concern; a sort of stabilizing power that swept away all such negations as slavery, poverty, or any other afflicting circumstance. Demetrius was suffused with the glow of this curious kinship. Blind with sudden tears, he elbowed through the throng and reached the roadside. The uncouth Athenian, bursting with curiosity, inopportunely accosted him. 
 
‘See him—close up?’ he asked. 
 
Demetrius nodded; and, turning away, began to retrace his steps toward his abandoned duty. 
 
“Crazy?” persisted the Athenian, trudging alongside. 
 
‘No.’
 
‘King?’
 
‘No,’ muttered Demetrius, soberly, ‘not a king.’
 
‘What is he, then?’ demanded the Athenian, piqued by the Corinthian's aloofness.
 
‘I don't know,’ mumbled Demetrius, in a puzzled voice, ‘but—he is something more important than a king.’”
 
Something more than a King… 
There amid the throng were all sorts of people. Let us see if we can identify them, the subject, and the object. Now we are standing in front of a mirror —the recollection of the crowd comes back to us. What do we see? 
 
First, we see the curious ones. Not truly caring for the man Jesus, not knowing who it is that has attracted the crowd's attention, but present because of the throng. A crowd was conforming again to the winds that swept across Jerusalem that day and in the days immediately ahead. 
 
There is the blind man. 
 
The woman caught in the act of adultery.
 
The disabled boy.
 
And, there, a young man who cannot hear… 
 
Can we find ourselves in this crowd? 
 
What infirm condition do we take with us? Are we there, and are we here this morning out of curiosity, or have we come searching for a meaningful faith? 
 
Second, there are those in the throng who have come once again to trap Jesus. But, now they are more sure than ever that they will reach their goal –– accomplish their task.
 
Paying taxes to Caesar 
 
Healing on the Sabbath 
 
Stoning to death a woman who sinned. 
 
She broke the commandment, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” 
 
And then there is Judas! Someone used him. 
 
Politics — Using people.
 
Something More Than Palms  
Third, the most important person in that Palm Sunday throng was Jesus himself. 
 
Something More Than A King.  
 
Yes, — King of kings and Lord of lords. 
 
He was the Saviour of the world. God had sent him to save the world, but the world knew him not. Only a few of his people understood this man Jesus. Only a few men today understand him and willingly give their lives for him; Jesus was 33 when he died. 
 
He healed the sick. He caused the blind to see the lame to walk. Even so, such miracles as these did not kill Jesus. It was the political, economic, and social changes which he advocated that killed him. The same injustice he spoke against finally put him to death. 
 
The hatred of humanity, not the love he taught and exemplified, brought him to that cross on Calvary. 
 
The man killed by an assassin's bullet last Thursday night was crucified because, like Jesus, he also advocated political, economic, and social justice for all men. I do not want to talk about Martin Luther King, Jr. this morning.  It Is Too Painful…
 
And yet, I must; even though I know you are exhausted with the subject, I am also exhausted. It was not my intention even to mention race and prejudice in today's sermon, and of the things I have prayed about since I came to you is that I would not alienate you or cause you to think that I was trying to coerce the love which God has given me for the black people on you. 
 
I do not want to do either of these things this morning. 
So, I'm going to stop preaching — right now! 
 
I will talk to you as you speak to me when there is a death in your family. I do not seek your respect for the man who meant so much to me; I only seek your love in sharing with me the pain and suffering that this event of history has thrust upon me in the tragic death and loss of my brother. 
 
I talk out of deep pain, sorrow, and grief. It was in 1963 that I first came to know Martin Luther King. I was fresh out of seminary and had struggled with some of life's problems, including racial prejudice. However, I never took it seriously. 
 
A part of my upbringing was to play it safe; don't be controversial. Stay away; don’t become involved.
 
And then I received this letter from Martin Luther King, and I cried, and sometimes I still cry when I read it. This is where my brother has been misunderstood because people have seen only the violence, which often followed the non-violent movement. 
 
Martin Luther King, Jr. never carried a gun or a knife from the day he walked into the Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, following his seminary and doctorate at Boston University. Instead, he preached love, and he died because of it. I wish there were time to read the whole letter but let me complete it by sharing the last few paragraphs. 
 
A Letter from Birmingham Jail  –– A vigorous, eloquent reply to criticism expressed by eight other clergymen. 
 
“Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often, it is an arch-defender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church’s silent — and often even vocal — sanction of things as they are.
 
Nevertheless, the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the 20th century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.
 
Perhaps — I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps — I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ecclesia and the hope of the world. But again, I am thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing chains of conformity and joined us as active partners in the struggle for freedom.  
 
They have left their secure congregations and walked the streets of Albany, Georgia, with us. They have gone down the highways of the south on torturous rides for freedom. Yes, they have gone to jail with us. Some have been kicked out of their churches; have lost the support of their bishops and fellow ministers.  
 
But they have acted in the faith that right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. Their witness has been the spiritual salt that has preserved the true meaning of the gospel in these troubled times. They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain of disappointment.”
 
Something More than Palms! 
 
Jesus — knowing he would meet death — returned to Jerusalem. He wept bitterly over that city. He died for that city and the world, but his truth goes marching on.
 
There is no room for violence and destruction in this great country, whether it be the rioting and violence of Black America or the subtle and poisonous mind of prejudice, which reaches out and cuts us from within, time after time, to destroy and dehumanize our civilization. 
 
I would pray that both groups might reorder their lives rather than have a hell on earth, which is more than a possibility. Then, we might strive to have one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. 
 
Let us pray! 
 
 
 
Historical Note: In the aftermath of Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, there followed a nationwide wave of riots in more than 100 cities; this was the most significant wave of social unrest the United States had experienced since the Civil War. People were scared, and White America was frightened. This sermon was delivered in this social and racial context at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church in Beaumont, Texas.
 
Two months later, on June 6, 1968, the nation witnessed the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.
 
Sermon delivered at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church in Beaumont, Texas, on Sunday – April 7, 1968 – three days after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.

 
  


Personal Note from the Publisher/CEO of Saint Julian Press — Ron Starbuck:​

I was nearly sixteen years old at the time and remember so clearly still, standing in the den of the parsonage where we lived in Beaumont, Texas, holding my father as he cried over the tragic death  of Martin Luther King Jr., and what it meant to the nation. 

​A week or two after the assassination, a group of students, both black and white, from South Park High School gathered at the parsonage to talk about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s death. My parents welcomed them with open arms, and my father led the conversation we had that evening. As teenagers growing up and maturing soon into young adults, we needed someone in authority to listen to us. We needed a community, so we created one that evening. We came together to find some healing and cast off the bonds of enmity and violence.
 
Two months later, on June 6, 1968, the nation witnessed the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy.
 
Sermon delivered at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church in Beaumont, Texas, on Sunday – April 7, 1968 – three days after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.

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