I had a wonderful day yesterday, Saturday. I was buried up at my desk at home, working through some of the Gospel of Mark that we are studying. AND I had a little TV across the room to check in on the NCAA Basketball games every once in awhile.

And over the course of the day, I probably listened 4-5 times to this song the youth group and leaders just sang (Vito’s Ordination, Sufjan Stevens). It struck me as a musical restatement of Psalm 139, don’ you think? “O Lord, you know when I sit and when I rise, you perceive my thoughts from afar…before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord….where can I go from your Spirit?...” A great sense of God’s near presence with us. Thank you.

Let me tell you a story from our vacation in 2007. We were in Hawaii for a week, and on a quiet afternoon I was by myself at the swimming pool, reading a book and enjoying the sun. The pool was a small one, enclosed with a wrought iron fence and totally encircled by about 8 large palm trees. Now, they were clearly not the same kind of palms present near Jerusalem that people grabbed branches off of to welcome Jesus, but they were palm trees, nevertheless.

The palm trees in Hawaii are probably 40 feet tall, with graceful swaying branches at the very top of the long, bare trunk. So I laid there reading, hearing the palm branches sway, way up at the top rustling in a gentle breeze. It was beautiful.

After a little while, though there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, an extremely strong wind came up. It only lasted for about 15 minutes. But as I lay there, wondering where this wind had come from, I heard a ripping and cracking sound up above me. The wind had torn off an entire palm branch, probably 8-9 feet long, and it went plummeting those 40 feet to the ground…just yards away from me. When it hit the ground, it made a huge smashing sound that was pretty startling. It was such a contrast, this beautiful palm branch and such a violent ending.

I ran into a friend yesterday, a man who has been a pastor for about 40 years now. And he said “Dan, why is it that after all these years, I still don’t totally “get” Palm Sunday? It just never seems easy.” I couldn’t agree more. That uneasiness is reflected in the fact that this day has two names: Palm Sunday, a celebration, a parade, the kids march in, and Passion Sunday- the start of the end of Jesus’ life.

We join with the crowds to shout “Hosanna.”And we join with the same crowds to shout “Crucify him.” We hold up palms branches, and we contemplate the painful artwork on our sanctuary walls depicting Jesus’ death. Everyone wants Jesus on Palm Sunday, and nobody wants him by Good Friday. Of course we’re uneasy.

This morning I want us to embrace that uneasiness, and also look further into what it means to follow Jesus through the Gospel of Mark. We’ve sat with Mark for a couple of months already, and we’re still only in chapter 4. Last week we looked at the beginning of what I called Jesus’ sermon, the parable of the sower. This morning we read the very end of that same sermon, another parable. It’s in Mark 4:30-32, and I invite you to stand with me for the reading of the gospel.

Reading: Mark 4:30-32

Palms. We don’t have them here as much, but we all know what they are. They grow in warmer and dryer climates. They have this distinct kind of leaf that rustles in a breeze, some of them grow fruit like dates, and they thrive in arid climates because their root structures persistently seek out the water table. Because of that, they tend to last for many, many years.

Palm branches had many joyful uses. God told Moses that the people could wave palm fronds to celebrate the Festival of Tabernacles (Lev 23:40). Solomon’s temple had palm branches engraved on the walls and doors (I Kings 6:29-32, 2 Chron 3:5). Ezekiel’s (40-41) vision of a new temple had similar decorations. In Revelation’s (7:9) picture of heaven, people from every tribe stood before the throne of God, wearing white robes and waving palm branches in worship.

All four of the gospels tell the story of what we call “Palm Sunday,” or “The triumphal entry,” as it is often called, Jesus entering into Jerusalem to the cheering of crowds and the waving of branches (only John says they were specifically palm branches). We didn’t that text this morning, but we repeated the litany, and sang it in a song: Jesus on a humble donkey, and the people shouting “Hosanna!,” which means “Save us! Rescue us!” Linguistically there is an urgency to it, Jesus, “Save us now! Hurry and rescue us!” And the branches wave and flutter.

But palms have another story as well. Two centuries before Jesus, in the times of the Maccabeans, Jewish resistance fighters around Jerusalem were battling for religious freedom to worship in the temple, and the removal of their Hellenistic oppressors, and they even succeeded for awhile. That’s part of the celebration of Hannakuh, the recapture and re-dedication of the temple. The struggles included murders, guerilla warfare, scuffles around the temple. And the symbol for these liberators, these zealot guerilla warfare soldiers? The palm branch. A symbol of resistance. We even have coins that were minted during this period by the rebels, with palm branches on them.

So palms used for worship and celebration. Palms used for fighting. There’s some dissonance there, isn’t there? The thing in common is that no matter how showy they might be as celebration tools or useful as symbols, they are very temporary. Once you tear them off of the tree, they are dying. These branches of the kids’ this morning will wither as the week goes on until they are brown and dry. In fact, in Christian tradition the ashes that we put on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday are the very ashes of the dead and burned palm branches from the previous Palm Sunday.

So the palm branches taken off the tree have this interesting characteristic: Flashy and attention –grabbing at first, but in the end nothing more than dead ashes.

The parable that Jesus tells about the mustard seed goes exactly the other way. . This is another “ kingdom of God” parable. Now, remember that the gospels use “the kingdom of God” to encompass two different things: one is God’s presence impacting life on earth now. And the other is what God will do at the end of time. Often “the kingdom of God” means both the “here” and the “not yet.” Much of what Jesus teaches in Mark has to do with our connection with the kingdom of God.

I call this the Parable of Looks Can Be Deceiving.

If we hear this parable at all, we’ll hear it for its contrasts. And if we interpret it at all, it’s contrasts we’ll notice. A little tiny, tiny seed is contrasted with a large, flourishing bush. The seed is so tiny and plain, it doesn’t belong in the same picture as a healthy tree. It’s so unlikely.

The gospel of Jesus, even in his day, was contrasted with the wisdom of the great ancient philosophies- Socrates, Plato. Jesus’ gospel seemed so plain. The gospel of Jesus was contrasted with the technological advances of the day, and the exploding realms of knowledge. Next to it, the gospel seems so simple.

The kingdom of God, a hint, a whisper, a picture, a conversation, a word contrasted with the political powers and armies and empires of the day, seemed like no contest at all. Jesus Himself, one person, contrasted against the evils of all humankind. A whole tree from a little seed. How unlikely.

The thing is, we should be used to this by now. The Bible is full of upside down, unlikely, nearly inexplainable people and events. Part of the character of the kingdom is that God uses exactly those things, those people which don’t look like much.

God picks Jacob, sniveling deceiver and conniver, to bear the name of his chosen people, Israel.

God picks that Israel, small and insignificant country among the nations, to be his own people and to communicate the kingdom to the rest of the world.

God picks Moses, the guy who was abandoned at birth, who couldn’t speak to save his life and who murdered a man, to lead Israel out of Egypt.

God picks Rahab, a prostitute, to hide the Israelites spying out the promised land and save their lives.

God picks David, the 7 th of seven brothers, the runt of the litter, to become king.

God picks Paul, emphatic Christian-hater, to become the missionary to the world.

God chooses several women, on the low rung of their culture, to bear the news of the resurrection.

Over and over again we see it. The smallest, the most insignificant, the most unlikely, and the kingdom of God is breaking in again.

A mustard seed appeared in many Jewish stories as the description of the smallest thing imaginable. (what would Jesus use today? atom? subatomic particle?) t takes 750 mustard seeds together to weigh one gram . Now, I can see you are like me and have no idea what that means! How about this: 750 mustard seeds weigh 4/100 of one ounce!

The kingdom of God is like this, so small you virtually cannot see it. It is that seed, small, insignificant, unlikely that ends up as an 8-10 foot bush, large enough that the birds of the air can nest in it. It’s so unlikely. Over and over and over the things of the kingdom seem to be small…but the effects of the kingdom are huge and lifechanging.

So why is it that we then think that the kingdom depends on us being large? Look at us! Large churches, large ministries, large public relations, a desire for large status in the community, large leaders desperate to be respected by the secular community, large television ministries, large personalities, large endowments, large marketing programs, large budgets, everything has to be big to prove to everyone that it’s as good as the stuff that is out in the world. Bigger is better. That’s what the kingdom of the world advocates.

But the kingdom of God is what happens to the mustard seed. From apparent insignificance, to something that matters immensely. Notice that the end product is a bush large enough to house birds. If you were a listener of Jesus’ familiar with the prophet Ezekiel, you would have recognized this picture, and these birds as representatives of the people of other nations, of the world. They are in the story to highlight the amazing and universal impact of the kingdom. Little tiny seed- impacting the world. Amazing.

I think we get grabbed anytime the unlikely bears fruit. It’s why I find the stories I read so fascinating- JRR Tolkien’s hero and the one ultimately with the strength to defeat evil…is a little, insignificant hobbit. The heroes of Narnia are four unlikely children. Victor Hugo’s (Les Mis) Valjean is a common criminal. They don’t look like much on the outside, but what amazing kingdom-things happen through them.

The insignificant and small that bears fruit.

So I start to get scared when all we can do is think BIG. When we put all our hopes, once again, in the next technology that will solve everything, or the next president who will rescue us, or the next latest greatest big thing. We do it in the church all the time.

Remember the movie The Passion of Christ? Mel Gibson’s movie from 2004? It had a record amount of people seeing it, and extraordinary amount of publicity, it was controversial, it stirred everyone up, some thought it would be the amazing movie that would change the world and re-establish Christianity to its rightful place in our culture. Well, I walked into Blockbuster the other day, and there it was on the shelf, just another movie from 2004 that nobody watches. We’re onto the next thing. It was big, now it’s gone.

The mustard seed of the Kingdom goes exactly the other way.

- the kingdom of God might be like a few people deciding to share a meal with a dozen food bank recipients and finding the Wednesday Night Dinner, one of the most remarkable communities I know.

- the kingdom of God might be like one small school on a hill just above Lake Victoria in Kenya, Christ’s Gift Academy. Surrounded by all of the terrible problems of Africa, yet sending out this student and that student and that one. To be teachers, lawyers, pastors to change families and towns. Just one insignificant school, changing the world.

- the kingdom of God might be like you starting a conversation with someone sitting in a coffee shop who looked in need of a friend. And greeting them on the street the next time you saw them. And the next time remembering their name. You may have no idea what kind of tree that might grow into. You may have no idea that the person you are led to be friends with was someone who SO needed a friend, who SO needed someone to live out kingdom life in front of them, they were like a bird looking for a bush to nest in.

- the kingdom of God might be like several friends of mine, who have gone into teaching or coaching for the purpose of investing in kids. They could make more money, have less hassle doing other things. But they pour themselves into kids, coming alongside of dysfunctional families, providing affirmation, opening up a future. Nobody knows. It’s just one teacher. It’s just one coach. It’s changing the world.

Here at the beginning of the week, we wave palm branches. And at the end of this week, Jesus the Word of God goes into the ground of the tomb. At the end of this week, we will rehearse his death. We will walk with him here in this sanctuary, as best we can: At noontime every day, sitting with the scripture and our prayers. On Maundy Thursday, living with his betrayal and arrest. On Good Friday, which seems like it can’t possibly be good, the pain of the cross. On Holy Saturday, when all is quiet.

Jesus went into the ground, and he seemed insignificant. Even those who put him to death mostly saw him as an irritating mosquito to be eliminated. One man, one person among many people who is crushed under the weight of nationalism, religious fervor, unfaithful friends. Insignificant, unlikely, so that it sounds like the kingdom of God. And what happens on Easter, the tree that rises up…defies the imagination.

Palm branches. Great for the moment, but they end up as dead ashes. Mustard seeds can’t even be seen by the eye, yet they explode into living trees. And always Jesus says “Let anyone with ears to hear, listen.”

Let us pray.