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Celebrate
good times, come on! There’s a party going on right here –
a celebration to last throughout the year. So bring your good
friends and your laughter, too – we’re going to celebrate
and party with you. Celebration – we’re going to celebrate
and have a good time.
It’s
time to come together. It’s up to you – hey, what’s your
pleasure – everyone around the world – come on!
That
song, D.J. Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration,” is
the bread and butter for every wedding reception. It is a
must-have in every DJ’s bag of tricks. Got to have it. Got
to know when to play it. I mean, when there is a party going
on right here—you know, a celebration to last throughout the
year—you have to have the song that captures the moment. A
song that captures the emotion. A song that invites everyone
to join the party. In the well-over 100 weddings that I DJ-ed,
I do not think there was a single one where I did not play
“Celebration.” In fact, I had a special place for that
song. I’d try to play it at the height of the party. When
the dance floor was filled. When the excitement of the day’s
events was starting to spill over and have an energy all its
own, I would play it. “Celebration.” The spot reserved for
the granddaddy of all party tunes was during the Grand March.
I
have not been to too many wedding receptions in this neck of
the woods, so I don’t know all of your customs, but in the
American Legion halls of rural western Wisconsin where I come
from, the Grand March is the high point of the party. It is
the moment when the wedding party is introduced and the bride
and groom are welcomed by the guests with clapping, cheering
and standing ovations. Many of the wedding dances I attended
back home would make this moment nice and fluffy. They would
play a sweet and sentimental song, usually something by Kenny
G or a sappy country ballad by the likes of George Straight or
John Michael Montgomery, and then the DJ would begin to
introduce each of the couples one by one. “Tonight’s
wedding party: Our
first couple is Jim, friend of the groom since third grade,
and he is escorting Sally, the bride’s third cousin twice
removed.” The sugary, sweet introductions would
continue with each of the couples crossing the dance floor
where they would then stand face to face and make a “London
Bridge” with their arms held high, until at last a small
“Tunnel of Love” was created for the newly-married couple
to walk though. Ah, so sweet, isn’t it?
Too
sweet. I mean, come on, this is a party. This is not just some
nicely polished, airbrushed moment for the videographer. This
is their wedding. This is a moment to celebrate. So when I was
the DJ, no Kenny G, no Michael Bolton, no John Tesh, Boyz II
Men, Lionel Richie or Diana Ross crooning on about endless
love. No way. When I was DJ-ing, the Grand March was party
time. I would line the wedding party up at the far end of the
dance floor. I would get the audience into the moment, but not
with some sweet, soft, love-lights kind of voice. No, quite
the opposite. I
would become the ringside announcer for a WWF wrestling match:
“Let’s get ready to rumble.” “Ladies and gentlemen.
Children of all ages. Friends and family alike. It is time to
get this party started.” Then I would hit the play switch on
the tape deck (cassette tapes, remember those?) and another
great party tune of the early nineties (“500 Miles” by the
Proclaimers) would suddenly fill the air. People would start
bouncing and the energy in room would start to climb.
And then the introductions would begin. “Our first
couple tonight is coming to us all the way from Chippewa
Falls, Wisconsin. Let’s get it up for Jim and cousin
Sally.” Each of the couples of the wedding party would then
boogie their way down the dance floor to enthusiastic and
growing applause and reassemble at the other end of the floor
to create the Tunnel of Love for the bride and groom to run
through and launch themselves off into wedded bliss.
And
just as everyone would be expecting me to announce the bride
and groom—just when all eyes would be turned towards
them—I would change it up one more time. I mean, the moment
is too big not to seize. I would run out from the behind the
table, cordless microphone in hand, and I would invite
everybody else who was there—everybody who up until this
moment was simply a spectator—to grab a partner and come out
to the floor and add to the Tunnel of Love. I would tell them
that they were about to make the longest Tunnel of Love in the
history of weddings. And before you knew it, the entire dance
floor was full, from one end to the other with a tunnel made
of friends and family for the bride and groom to run through.
And
then, finally, I could make the announcement. The moment was
ripe. The people were ready. The stage was set. And the
introduction was made. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me
great pleasure to introduce to you – the couple of the hour
– the towers of power – they are too sweet to be sour. Let
us put our hands together for Kevin and Lisa.” The place
would erupt in applause and laughter and the couple would run
to the beginning of the tunnel and run through their friends
and family with the same emotion and enthusiasm as a player
being introduced to the home crowd before the big game. After
they ran through and got the wishes of all their friends and
family, I would take the bride and groom to the middle of the
dance floor, have everyone gather around them in big circle,
and say to the groom that it was time to kiss his bride—to
kiss her like she had never been kissed before, the kind of
kiss that would launch a thousand ships, the kind of kiss that
would make time stand still, the kind of kiss that would
bungee jump them into a life of love and partnership together.
I’d get everyone around them in a circle and they would
count it off, “Ready. One. Two. Three.” And the bride and
groom would lay lips on each other in a way they had never
laid lips on each other before. Then I would run back to the
table and hit the switch, and the room would fill with that
granddaddy of party tunes:
“Celebrate good times, come on!” I would just stand
back and watch as the bride and groom, all of their brothers
and sisters, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins
both distant and near, family friends, childhood friends, high
school and college friends, work friends and church friends
would cut loose and dance themselves into a moment that seemed
to capture the joy that sits at the center of every wedding.
In that moment, everybody was caught up in the celebration, a
celebration of a moment when love truly ruled supreme.
“Celebrate
good times, come on.” I love wedding receptions and dances.
I love them because they are unabashed and unapologetic
parties. They are designed to be a good time. Wedding
receptions are held for one purpose. The purpose is not to
have a free chicken dinner. The purpose is not to do the
chicken dance, hokey pokey, hustle, YMCA and macarana all on
one night. No, the purpose of the wedding reception and dance
is simply to celebrate, to have a party. At wedding parties,
people let loose and cut it up. They dance till they are
sweaty. They connect with old friends and cherish family ties.
Wedding dances give us an excuse to let our hair down and
celebrate.
Wedding
receptions happen right in the midst of life. At wedding
receptions, people come together and are given the chance to
leave behind what is bothering them, to leave behind
everything that is screwed up at work or at home, to leave
behind all that is broken and wrong with the world—to do
just that, to celebrate. Oh, make no mistake, all of those
worries that are left behind will be there when the party is
over. But for the moment, you can leave them behind and revel
in the moment—a moment that reminds you about what is
important, a moment that reminds you about who is most
important.
If
everything had to be okay with you before you were able to
enjoy a party, then none of us would ever get the chance to
go. If we told ourselves that we had no business celebrating
while there are things to do, problems to solve and a world to
save, then we would stay at work while others danced. At a
wedding dance, we are reminded that sometimes everything can
be put on hold for the sake of the party.
Sometimes
everything else can be put on hold for the sake of the party.
That is what is at the center of today’s worship. I mean,
come on, it is Palm Sunday. It is the beginning of the most
important week in our Christian year. We are nearly to the end
of the journey we began almost forty days ago, and there’s
no way around it. In the scripture that sits at the center of
today’s worship, there’s a party going on right here, a
celebration to last throughout the year. In fact, it looks
like the Grand March is about to start. The guests have
arrived. The stage has been set. And the One for whom the
party is being thrown is about enter. Matthew tells the story
like this:
They
brought the donkey and the colt, placed their cloaks on them,
and Jesus sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks
on the road, while others cut branches from trees and spread
them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those
that followed shouted “Hosanna to the Son of David!”
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”
“Hosanna in the highest!” When Jesus entered Jerusalem,
the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?” The
crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth
in Galilee.”
Many
sermons preached today will focus on the story’s details.
Some will ask about the significance of Jesus riding both a
donkey and a colt. Others will focus on the prophecy: “Was
there an older story Jesus wanted us to remember?” Others
will look at the difference between the celebratory crowds
that gather outside the walls of the city and the confused
crowds that are on the inside. There will be sermons that
wonder if the crowd understood what would happen to Jesus by
week’s end. There will be sermons that will wonder if Jesus
understood what would happen to Jesus by week’s end. All of
these sermons would be interesting topics to consider, but I
think all of them would miss the bigger picture—that when
Jesus comes to town, the best thing you can do is celebrate.
If
we don’t get all caught up in the details of the story, then
maybe we can appreciate the picture it paints. I mean, what a
scene! It is all right there, all the makings of a great
party. Crowds of people filled with enthusiasm. Singing and
excitement. People caught up for a moment in something bigger
than themselves, bigger than their lives’ circumstances,
bigger than the struggles of the world they lived in.
Something was happening in that moment that made everything
else going on around them just stop. It was a moment too good
to miss. It would be a shame if it passed by and they were not
a part of it. It was a moment that might not ever come their
way again. Holy Week begins by inviting every one of us into
that same kind of moment.
Something is about to happen that none of us will want
to miss. Jesus is passing by. Won’t you grab a palm and join
the celebration?
The
Palm Sunday parade takes Jesus right into downtown Jerusalem.
Jerusalem was the center of religious and political life. If
it were happening today, it would be like Jesus taking the
party—a party that proclaims that a new kingdom and new king
have arrived—to the Vatican and Washington, DC combined.
This party will set in motion the events that we will tell the
rest of the week. So here, at the beginning of a week when a
friend will betray him, his best friend will deny him, and the
rest of his friends will desert him—a week that ends with
the brutality of humanity on the cross on full display—Jesus
is throwing a party. He throws a party right in the midst of
life. Right in the middle of a ministry that, as of late, had
known nothing but hardship and misunderstanding. Right in the
midst of a time when the stakes could not have been higher.
He throws this party despite the warnings to stay home.
He does not let the moment pass him by, and he invites others
to enjoy the moment as well. He knows that life is too short
not to seize the moments that call for everything else just to
stop and for us to celebrate all that God has already given to
us.
Make
no mistake about it, tonight is the night we are called to
cast our cares aside and get caught up in a moment that is
bigger than everything else going on in our lives. Truth be
told, not everything is perfect in our lives. Not everything
is perfect in our homes or jobs. Not everything is perfect in
our church. Not everything is perfect in the world around us.
So why celebrate? Why all the hype? Are we just getting pumped
up for the sake of getting pumped up? Are we just trying to
make enough noise so that we can convince the outside world,
even if we are having a hard time convincing ourselves, that
this whole Christian thing has some merit? Why are we
celebrating? For the same reason the crowd on the first Palm
Sunday celebrated two thousand years ago. They celebrated
because, on that day, they knew that the very Spirit of God
was among them. They celebrated because, in Jesus, they saw
the face of God. They celebrated because, in Jesus, God had
come so close that God touched them…in Jesus, God came so
close that God healed them… in Jesus, God came so close that
their lives were never the same.
That
is why we celebrate. We celebrate because our Lenten
journey—a journey that each week has taken us through the
lessons of Jesus’ Great Commission—brings us tonight to a
truth that should break us into celebration every time we
think of it. Hear these words that should be becoming more
familiar by now:
All
authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.
Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them
in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded
you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the
age.
“And
surely I am with you always.” That is why the crowd
erupted into celebration that first Palm Sunday. You see, that
crowd knew the truth of that statement. “And surely I am
with you always.” Although the scriptures do not tell us
who was in the crowd that day, I imagine it was filled with
those people Jesus had touched and healed. I believe that if
we could scan the crowd, we would find Bartimaeus, the blind
beggar now able to see. In the crowd we would find the
Samaritan woman who met Jesus at the well and who had been
given a new outlook on life. We would find Lazarus, a
real-life dead man walking. There was the man who was lowered
down on the stretcher by his friends. There was Zachaeus, the
tax collector who got things right with both God and his
community. The woman who was bleeding for twelve years, Jarius’
daughter brought back from death, the crippled man by the side
of the pool, the man consumed by demons, all ten guys
who were healed of their leprosy—they all were there. The
crowd would have been full of the peasants, prostitutes,
sinners and saints that Jesus had touched throughout his
ministry. Jesus had been there for them in the midst of
life’s most desperate moments. And on the first Palm Sunday,
they saw that Jesus would come to a place that would put his
very life in danger—and he was doing it for them. On that
day, the crowd erupted into celebration because they now knew
for sure that Jesus would go anywhere with them, he would go
anywhere for them, he would risk it all for those who had
placed their faith in him and the Kingdom he proclaimed. And
that was reason to cheer, that was reason to shout, that was
reason to dance in the streets.
Jesus was passing through to make good on his promise:
“I am with you always.”
You
see, friends, we have a crowd here tonight much like the crowd
that gathered on the first Palm Sunday. We have a crowd of
people whose lives have been touched by God in meaningful and
transforming ways. We have people here tonight who can attest
to the truth that God indeed has been with them every step of
the way, especially when the road became dark and rocky. We
have people here tonight who have walked the road of cancer
with God holding their hand every step of the way. We have
people who have walked the road of grief after the loss of a
loved one, people who have walked the road of divorce, others
who have been paralyzed by the fears of job loss or addiction.
And every one of you can tell a story of how God walked with
you every step of the way.
That
is why we celebrate. We celebrate because we go with God and
our God goes with us. We celebrate because the God that was
made known in Jesus Christ—the same God that would march
into Jerusalem to face his own death—is the same God that
walks with us through the tough times of our lives.
In
midst of pain and hardship, Jesus promises:“ I am with
you always.”
In
midst of marriages that are struggling, Jesus promises: “I
am with you always.”
In
the emergency room and the courtroom, Jesus promises: “I
am with you always.”
In
the funeral home and the nursing home, Jesus promises: “I
am with you always.”
In
the unemployment line and the bread line, Jesus promises: “I
am with you always.”
There
is not anywhere God will not go with us. There is no problem
God will not help us carry.
There is no wound God will not heal. There is no sin
God will not forgive. That is what the crowd that gathered two
thousand years ago knew, and that is what caused them to
celebrate. And
that is what we know on this Palm Sunday, as well—that
Jesus’ presence is still with us and there is a celebration
about to happen. The Grand March is about to begin. The parade
is coming through our town today. Grab a palm. Feel the
excitement. “It’s time to come together. It’s
up to you – hey, what’s your pleasure – everyone around
the world – come on!”
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