It was often said that the late President Reagan was the “great communicator.” He was very talented, but the title really belongs to Jesus. In all the gospel stories that we have, he’s always communicating something. Every time he heals someone, there’s a message about God’s love for people. Every time he teaches, there’s a lesson about who God is, or who Jesus is, or who the people of God should be. Every time he pokes the religious authorities, there’s a warning. Whenever he acts on the sabbath, there’s a message. His actions always tell a story, and all the stories have been adding up to this day. We call it Palm Sunday, and it’s the start of our holiest week, the week between today and Easter.

As we watch Jesus enter Jerusalem each year, we wonder what he’s telling us.

The story is so intriguing that each of the four gospel writers remembered it and wrote it down. Our mental image of the day is a combination of all four but each one remembered different details. Mark’s version doesn’t have a single palm branch in sight, but we mentally add them in from other versions of the story. Mark’s story, the one we hear today, is much simpler, but we also add in the crowds to our image of the day.

So what does Jesus want us to know?

Should we see Jesus as a king, as the descendant of Israel’s great King David? Is he here to take up the throne? Is he the king entering this ancient city in triumph? Jesus goes to a lot of trouble to ride in on a colt — the sign of a ruler coming in peace. The first hearers of this gospel would have understood the reference to the prophet Zechariah, who promised, “Lo, your king comes to you, humble and riding on donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9) The garments in the road are another gesture of welcome for a king.

Or should we understand Jesus as the long-awaited messiah? The colt has never had a rider because it is an animal used for a sacred purpose. This is the Passover season, the holiday which celebrates God setting the people free from slavery in Egypt. The messiah is the one to bring deliverance from the Romans — or so they think. Jesus comes into Jerusalem from the east, from the Mount of Olives, where Jewish tradition held that the messiah would come in the last days.

Or are we to look for another purpose? Noted preacher Fred Craddock called it a “protest march” (Christian Century, April 5, 2003) .This is the long culmination of Jesus’ protests against the abuses he sees around him. All along, Jesus has disagreed with the common wisdom about who can eat at the table, who’s included in God’s kingdom, and what the sabbath means. Now, in the political and religious capital, he ratchets the protest up another notch.

He’s using the symbols people understand to make a point they won’t understand until later. He’s showing them who he is, using the symbols of king and messiah to show that he is something different altogether.

Oh, and there’s one more thing. Only Jesus knows that this is also a funeral procession.

What Jesus came to communicate was about the power of sacrifice. He had come to reveal the power of bending our wills toward what God wants. It was the lifetime call to serve the least and the lost. It was the pattern of loving one another, even in the face of betrayal and fear.

Perhaps you’ve heard the story of the monastery that had begun to decline.

The monastery was once a grand place, with beautiful buildings, bustling with activity and prayer. Now there were only five monks left, and all of them were elderly and dispirited,

Nearby, in the woods, was a little hut where a rabbi from a nearby synagogue would come to pray. One day, it occurred to the abbot that he should go and seek the advice of the rabbi, his wise colleague. He knocked on the door, and the rabbi welcomed the abbot into the hut. When the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only sympathize with him. “I know,” he said. “I have the same problem. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” The abbot and the rabbi talked and prayed together. When the abbot was leaving, he asked one more time. “Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me?”

“I’m sorry,” the rabbi told him. “I have no advice. I can only tell you that the Messiah is among you.”

When the abbot got back to the monastery, the other monks gathered around him to ask what advice the rabbi had for them. He didn’t have any suggestions, the abbot said sadly. All he said was something strange, the abbot reported. The Messiah is among us.

All the old monks thought about this as they did their work. Could there be any truth in what the rabbi had said? The Messiah is among us? They wondered if he could have meant one of them. In that case, which one? Could it be this one? No, he’s too grumpy... but just in case, I’ll treat him with respect. How about that one? No, too flighty... but just in case, I’ll treat him with reverence. Or, what about this one of us? No, too young... but just in case, I’ll treat him with honor. Or, each monk wondered, could it be me? Just in case, I’d better act with faith and honesty at all times, just in case.

As they thought about this, the old monks began to treat each other with great respect, just in case one of them was the Messiah. And on the off chance that each monk might himself be the Messiah, they began to act with honesty and compassion.

People still came to visit the monastery from time to time.

They would picnic on the lawn, to walk along the paths, or go into the run-down chapel to meditate. When they were there, even without realizing it, they felt the aura of extraordinary love that filled the place. That spirit of generosity and faith was strangely attractive. People began to come back to the monastery more frequently to walk, picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends with them. And their friends brought their friends. Some people even asked the abbot about joining. After a few years, the monastery was again filled with people.

Thanks to the rabbi’s gift, it was a vibrant place of light and prayer.

What if we all lived as if the Messiah was among us?

Palm Sunday reminds us that the Messiah is among us. He invites us to live his brand of generosity and respect. He invites us read the signs, and take up his work of love.

Jesus is the king who rejects every kind of power, except the power of sacrifice. As a king, his only triumph is when we love another. He is the Messiah, coming in triumph to bring the age of God’s rule - not winning the world by war, but as the prince of peace. Not by splitting the Mount of Olives in two and starting the final battle, but by winning the battle in our souls.

His new age begins when we, too, join in the battle to change the world. His life is only a success if we turn around everything we think we know and see through the eyes of the one riding on a colt, feet dragging in the dust, seeing with love the fickle hearts and frail faith of the crowd. Sacrifice is the only path to power, and love is the only power that matters. The palms branches and the shouts are all a sign of God’s love for us and the coming of God’s new world. That’s what Jesus is trying to tell us.

Jesus ends the story all alone, but he’s still communicating with us.

If we understand, we can follow him into this week of mystery, and beyond.

We can read the signs, and join his kingdom, this week, and always.

Amen.