A Humble King

By Pastor Tracey Leslie
Scripture:  Matthew 21:1-11

When I was about 7 years old, my family took a summer vacation to Massachusetts in our very old Chevy.  Back then, people didn’t travel as much as they do today and car odometers only had five digits.  When you reached 99,999, your next mile flipped the car’s odometer back to 00000.  And during our family vacation, right there in the heart of downtown Plymouth, Mass, our Chevy odometer turned over.  I was thrilled!  Back then people also didn’t care much about seat belts – wearing them wasn’t legally required – and when my dad announced the impending rollover, I leaned over the front seat to see all 5 digits flip to zeros.  In hindsight, what makes that event even more entertaining is that I could have been so excited about that old Chevy.  It was so old and dilapidated; we were lucky it even got us back to Pennsylvania.  We had nicknamed the car "Patches" because its body was held together by putty of varying hues. 
 
This morning is Palm Sunday.  It is the day we remember Jesus' entry into Jerusalem during what would turn out to be his last week on earth.  And quite an entry it was.  Jesus was cheered and welcomed by the masses.  It was Passover time and Jews from all over Israel had come to Jerusalem for this important religious pilgrimage.  The city was packed with people – pilgrims, merchants, soldiers.  And Jesus' entry turned into a parade of sorts.  According to Matthew, the crowd got so wound up at the sight of Jesus that their shouting and general uproar caused the city to shake like an earthquake – if you can imagine that.  The long and the short of it was that the crowd just couldn't have been any happier, any more jubilant, any more impressed… for the time being at least.  It's hard to know precisely what they expected from Jesus.  But it must have been something big.
 
And yet, Jesus didn't enter the city that day by a very glamorous mode of transportation.  He rode into town on a donkey, which broke with his usual mode of transportation: walking.  Until now Jesus and his disciples had, like most first-century travelers, simply walked from place to place. Occasionally, they took a boat, but even when Jesus was on the water, he walked.
 
Which might make us wonder:  Why does Jesus now decide to mount up?  And if he's going to ride, why not choose something a little more impressive, like a horse?  Horses were for warriors and kings, victors, the strong and the powerful.  Donkeys?  Well, they were more like my family's old Chevy.  Not so impressive.
 
And so Matthew tells us why when he declares that it is to fulfill scripture, specifically the image drawn in Zechariah 9:9 of a king entering Jerusalem “humbly and riding on a donkey.”  The point Jesus makes on Palm Sunday is that, yes he is king; yes he is the Son of David.  But he is a different kind of king than one might expect.  He is not a warrior king mounted on a stallion.  Jesus will not draw a sword to vanquish his enemies.  Instead, Jesus will submit to his heavenly Father's will and the powers of this world in order to vanquish our enemies, sin and death.  Jesus is no warrior king; he's humble and meek which doesn't turn out to sit very well with those Jerusalem pilgrims.  In less than a week, their sentiments will change and their cheerful shouts of "Hosanna" will evolve into an angry mob shouting "Crucify."
 
There was once an old fisherman and his wife who lived in a humble pig-stye by the sea.  One day, as he fished, his line was dragged deep into the water and, when he drew it up, there was a large flounder that spoke to him and said, "Fisherman, I am not really a flounder but an enchanted prince.  Pray thee, let me go."  "Why, a flounder that can talk, I should certainly let go," said the man and released the fish.  When he returned home his wife asked, "Did you catch nothing today?"  "Oh, I caught a flounder who said he was a prince, and so, I let him go," said the man.  "You let him go?" asked the woman, "without even making a wish?"  "What would I wish for?" asked the man.  "Why I should think we would not always live in this stinking pig-stye," said the woman.  "Go and tell the flounder we wish to have a cottage."  And so the fisherman returned to the sea and called out:
Flounder, flounder in the sea,
come I pray thee, unto me
for my wife, good Ilsabil,
wills not as I'd have her will.
 
The flounder swam quickly to the surface and asked, "What does she want?"  "She wishes to live in a cottage," said the man.  "Go," said the flounder, "and you will find it so."  The man returned to find his wife sitting beside the door of a lovely little cottage.  "Come and see," said the wife.  And, as they looked around, the man sighed and said, "Well, now, you shall be content, shall you not?"  The two ate dinner and went to bed.  A day or two went by before the wife, growing irritable, said to her husband, "This cottage is quite small.  The flounder could have done much better.  Go and tell him I wish to have a castle."  "Ah, my wife," said the man.  "This is quite good enough."  "Go," said his wife.  "The flounder should be happy to make it so."  As the man walked toward the sea, he noticed that the sky was growing gray, the wind had begun to blow and the water, when he reached it, was murky and choppy.  He called out once again:
Flounder, flounder in the sea,
come I pray thee, unto me
for my wife, good Ilsabil,
wills not as I'd have her will.
 
The flounder made his way to the surface and asked, "What is it that she wants?"  "She would like to live in a castle," said the man, somewhat sheepishly.  "Very well," said the flounder.  "It is so."  When the man returned, there stood a lovely stone castle.  There were gardens and an orchard and stables.  Entering the hallway of the castle, servants bustled about.  He called to his wife at the end of the hall, "Wife, surely now you are satisfied."  "We shall see," said she.  The day passed.  Once again, they ate and went to bed.  The next morning, when they awakened, the wife turned to her husband, "I have been thinking.  This castle is not enough.  We deserve more.  We should be king."  "King!" exclaimed the man.  "I do not wish to be king."  "Then I shall be king instead," said the woman.  "You must go to the flounder and make it so."  And so the man went with great reluctance and the sky above had grown darker.  The wind was howling and, at water's edge, waves were breaking and crashing.  The man called out:
Flounder, flounder in the sea,
come I pray thee, unto me
for my wife, good Ilsabil,
wills not as I'd have her will.
 
After making his way to the surface, the flounder asked, "What does she now want?"  The man responded, "She wants to be king."  "Go," said the flounder, "for it is so."  Upon his return, the man saw an even larger castle with an even greater number of servants and at the end of the long, great hall sat his wife upon a throne with a crown upon her head.  "Wife, you are king," said the man.  "Let it be enough."  And yet, the day had not ended before the woman summoned her husband.  "Husband," she said.  "I have decided.  To be pope is greater than to be king.  Tell the flounder I wish to be pope."  "One cannot simply decide to be pope," said the man.  "Listen," said the woman.  "I am your king and I have given you an order."  And so, with heavy heart, the man returned to the sea.  As the wind howled and the green, murky water churned, the man called out:
Flounder, flounder in the sea,
come I pray thee, unto me
for my wife, good Ilsabil,
wills not as I'd have her will.
 
The flounder surfaced and asked, "What does she wish?"  "She wishes to be pope," said the man.  "Go, for it is so," the flounder said.  Upon his return, there was no longer one great castle, but a cathedral surrounded by smaller castles with many priests and servants.  As he entered the church there sat his wife in priestly garb upon a throne surrounded by the light of many candles.  "You must be satisfied," said the man and, wearily, he made his way to bed.  The next morning, before the sun had dawned, the exhausted man was awakened by his wife.  "I know what I must have," said the woman.  "I wish to be like God."  The man shuddered and said, "Oh, wife.  You cannot wish for such a thing.  Please.  I beg of you."  But his wife would not be reasoned with and flew into a rage and ordered her husband to go.  Outside the wind was howling fiercely, ripping leaves from the trees and bending their boughs.  The water of the sea foamed and churned and was green and thick.  The man could not even hear his own voice as he shouted over the storm:
Flounder, flounder in the sea,
come I pray thee, unto me
for my wife, good Ilsabil,
wills not as I'd have her will.
 
The flounder, making his way to the surface, asked the man.  "What now can she possibly want?"  Trembling the man said, "She wishes to be like God."  And suddenly, the sea grew still and the wind became calm and the flounder spoke, "It is so.  Return and you will find her once again in a pig-stye."