Palm Sunday is definitely one of the most fun days of the whole year. Grown-ups get to act like kids in church. I know some of you feel a little self-conscious about this, but please, go ahead and wave away! This is our day to remember that King Jesus is hailed as a mighty king and welcomed as a savior.

Part of the reason we feel embarrassed is not only that we are a bit inhibited! It's that we know the whole story. And we know that we, the crowds who hail him today, are the very people who will deny him tomorrow. We know that the adulation he enjoys today will turn to scorn. We know that the palms we wave today will be burned to make the very ashes that will remind us of our sin and brokenness. Mixed emotions, indeed. Laughter and tears. Rejoicing and sorrow. It's strange, really, that a seemingly simple story of Jesus riding along on a donkey while crowds of children and grown-ups waved branches and shouted "Hosanna" can carry such complex emotional drama.

Scripture is holy because it tells the truth of our lives, the whole truth, even as it points us to the truth much larger and deeper and truer that comes from the heart of our God. Never be fooled by the apparent simplicity of a Bible story. It is never that shallow and it is rarely simple. Like poetry, it reminds us of larger truths. It is big enough to hold our heart and save our soul.

I recently heard the Poet Laureate of the United States, Billy Collins, say of poetry that "it allows us to have contrary feelings at the same time, unresolved attitudes." He said, "Poetry is the clear expression of mixed emotions" and, as such, can offer relief in uncertain times. In fact, during this month of April, National Poetry Month, he suggests that we all carry a poem in our pocket, and take it out and read it each day.

Collins' description of poetry as "the clear expression of mixed emotions" could, on this day especially, just as easily apply to Scripture. In the public world, he said, we want certainty, we want everything to be clear. But in our hearts, life is different, isn't it? We harbor a plethora of mixed emotions, especially in times as tumultuous as these, and Scripture, like poetry, gives them voice. Thank God for a faith rich and complex enough to make sense of our very complex world.

On this Palm Sunday morning, news from halfway around the world announces that the war in Iraq is nearing its end. How relieved we are to know that the intense violence and suffering might soon be over and our news-waves no longer filled day and night with the sounds of war.

And yet, we grieve. We grieve the loss of life, the suffering of those injured and maimed, those still missing. We grieve the destruction of libraries and hospitals and museums, places of beauty and ancient civilizations. We grieve what seems like the inevitability of war in our world, the failure of humans even now in the 21st century, smart in so many astonishing ways, yet perpetually ignorant in the skills of diplomacy and negotiation. We grieve the suffering of the innocents, especially the children, and the sorrow they will bear into future generations.

I have spoken with many of you over these last three weeks about just how difficult it has been to know how to carry on with our daily lives in the midst of it all. We have vacillated between being glued to the TV screen and wanting to get away from it all through family outings, movies, baseball, the college basketball tournament, feeling slightly guilty for finding pleasure amidst such a horrific time. Parents have wondered how best to guide children through such a time, some engaging in conversation about the war, others trying to shield their children from images that are frightening.

And, in the midst of it all, the burdens and challenges of our own lives persist-broken hearts, deferred dreams, financial worries, health concerns, grief-and it's hard to know where to put our personal pain into the big picture of a broken and battered world.

In these days, we have all been filled with mixed emotions and conflicting thoughts. Our hearts are heavy with the sorrow that war brings. And we are anxious for the future, uncertain of its path or promise. Mixed emotions and conflicting thoughts.

The ancient Palm Sunday story is the perfect story for us to hear on this day. This is the day on which we commemorate the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, but then immediately find ourselves poised on the brink of his betrayal and death. We rejoice, yet he rides forth to suffer.

You see, this is a story of mixed emotions. It is a story that depends on the tension between promise and peril for its drama and energy. It is a story in which what first seems quite obvious might not prove ultimately to be true: a triumphant parade that portends doom; a time of rejoicing that serves only to delay the inevitable end; a king who will never wear a crown of gold; a band of followers who don't know whether to laugh or cry.

According to Mark: "Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God! Blessed is the coming Kingdom of our ancestor David!'"

On the road approaching Jerusalem, the crowds were shouting. Their palms, symbols of victory and triumph, heralded a new king. This was the culmination of Jesus' three years of teaching, preaching and healing. The people's pent-up longings and all their deferred dreams overflowed with joy and anticipation on this day and cascaded down the road. And justice shall flow down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. "Hosanna," the people shouted. "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God and blessed is the coming kingdom. Hosanna in the highest heaven. Hear us sing, now. Hosanna! The new world, the new ruler, the new way is moving down this road right before our very eyes and we recognize it for all that it is. Hosanna."

And so Jesus enters Jerusalem, the seat of power and political and religious authority, choosing to challenge all those in authority with his new kingdom of peace and justice and love, and the people hail him as their king.

But so soon, the crowds put down their palms sadly, nervously, fearing the worst. Feeling the prick of the palms' sharply pointed tips, the razor-sharpness of their edges. These symbols of triumph become symbols of suffering. As Peter Gomes has said, they become "symbols of the vanity of human foolishness, the illusion of what passes for victory in this world…they are signs of suffering, the suffering of the Savior, the suffering of his people, the suffering of all creation and of us with it."

Pride and foolishness. Victory and suffering. Hope and defeat. It's all here. It's all here, in the pages of the Holy Book. The ancient Gospel story is a story strong enough, complex enough, to tell the whole story of our lives, giving voice to our sorrow and fear while grounding us in the true source of joy and hope. A story big enough for all the mixed emotions that come from the bittersweet, often contradictory realities of life, from unanswered questions and disturbing doubts.

A humorist once said something to the effect of: "If this world isn't making you crazy, you're not paying attention!" It's hard to hold it all together. It's hard to keep clear, to keep a moral and spiritual compass. It was hard in Jesus' time and it is just as hard now.

In a time of mixed emotions, such as then, such as now, a time mixed with sorrow and fear, joy and pain, a time defined by longing and disappointment, cynicism and hope, seek the loadstar of our faith, dear brothers and sisters. Look at Jesus on this day of his Triumphal Entry in to Jerusalem. Only Jesus remains clear. He alone sees through the mixed emotions, the mixed motives, the mixed agendas of that day.

While the crowds hail him as King, he refuses to confuse political might with true justice. While the crowds shout for victory, he refuses to choose earthly power over sacred authority. While the crowds sense imminent success, he refuses to seek quick gains over lasting transformation, the fleeting triumph of Palm Sunday over the eternal triumph of Easter.

Jesus alone remains focused on the ultimate goal, the abiding purpose of his life and calling: the restoration of life to a world broken by violence and sin.

Friends, if you have come today seeking a compass for your life's journey, look to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Learn from his deep spirituality, a life rooted and grounded in prayer. Pattern your lives after the example of his intimacy with God. Immerse yourselves, as did he, in the living word of the Holy Scriptures. Be emboldened by his courage. Go deep, under the mixed emotions and conflicting messages, to the source of true and abiding love. Abide there. Abide in his love.

Only God's love is strong enough to hold it all together. God's love is the only thing that makes it possible to see, to bear up, to understand and to pass on through to the other side. Only the love that could endure the cross and break forth from the grave can possibly be the source of strength that can make us whole.

We may come today with hurting hearts and mixed-up minds. We may come with frayed spirits and rattled nerves. We may come just hoping it will all go away. However we come, whatever brings us to this place this day, we find that our story has a place in the sacred story of God's people. We find a God who shares our sorrow, yet still promises us joy! We find a savior who knows exactly what we feel, and loves us all the more. We find a way to live, fully, honestly and still full of hope.

Let our Hosannas ring! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is his coming Kingdom! Amen and amen.

NOTES:

1. Billy Collins interviewed on NPR "All Things Considered," April 1, 2003.

2. Peter Gomes. Sermons: Biblical Wisdom for Daily Living. New York: Avon Books, 1998.