Weber and Rice’s rock opera, "Jesus Christ Superstar," captured the glimmer of the first Palm Sunday parade with these words:

Jesus Christ, if you’re divine, turn my water into wine

Prove to me that you’re no fool; walk across my swimming pool.

What a day, that first Palm Sunday. It was like a carnival, a circus. Jewish pilgrims jammed into the holiest of holy cities. Jammed into those narrow little streets, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, body to body, one could hardly walk.

It was Passover and the city was jammed. A mad house. Dirty streets and dusty mules. Dusty streets and dirty mules. Camels baying off in the distance. Pilgrims chanting their prayers. Roman chariots and charioteers riding back and forth. It was a great week for Jerusalem business men, and the kids? They just loved the commotion.

The reputation of Jesus preceded him. The day before Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead, then coming into town, Jesus healed two more blind men, who were now able to see. The masses had heard about these miracles, and everyone wanted to see if he could pull off another trick like that. The crowd wanted to see more miracles. They wanted to see another deaf person hear. They wanted to see a blind man given sight. They wanted to see the skin of a leper made pure. Just like on television. See this mighty miracle worker - healer in action. And if they saw a blind man given sight, they then would be true believers. If the Houdini of the Holy Land could pull another trick out of his bag, they would then believe.

Jesus Christ, if your divine, turn my water into wine

Prove to me that you’re no fool. Walk across my swimming pool.

There are people like that, you know. They will only believe if they see a sign. "Lord, if you give me a miracle, then I will believe." Have you ever been like that?

There was a second group of people that day. This second group did not want a religious carnival; they weren’t looking for a magician with one more trick under the Big Top. These people were much more serious. They were looking for a political revolution. It was like a mass political rally, with all its intense fanaticism. These people were fevered nationalists.

About 20 years earlier, Zaduk the Pharisee led a revolution against King Herod, that king who ordered all boys two and under to be killed, because he did not want any baby messiah being born who would grow up to be a political king.

The result of the failed revolution was that 2000 Jews were killed. The Romans strung them up; they hung them on crosses. Can you imagine Victory Blvd, the length of Staten Island, on every block there were ten men hanging dead on crosses, not for one mile, but for twenty miles. Two thousand men hanging on crosses for the entire world to see? Would that send a message to the Jewish population what the Romans do with political revolutionaries?

And then, on this Passover day, when Jesus came riding into town, there had already been thirty-two political riots...in five years. As a young man Jesus, with his countrymen, had experienced 32 riots, six major riots per year for five years. And now the Jew in Jerusalem were on the edge of another riot.

It was political pandemonium. It was chaos. The town was ready to blow.

"Jesus Christ, if you’re divine, throw out those bloody Roman swine."

So there were two groups there on the first Palm Sunday. The religious fanatics who said, "give me a miracle and I will believe." And then the political fanatics who said, "Restore our freedom and get rid of the occupying army. Both groups chanted: "Hosanna to the Son of David."

What was Jesus doing in the midst of the kaleidoscope of madness? Was he standing on the back seat of a chariot with arms upward and outward and his finger spiking a "V" sign for victory? Was he waving at all those people in their second story windows as they were throwing confetti on him? No, here in this cacophony of craziness, Jesus didn’t say a word. He rode in silence. Silence.

Jesus rode on a donkey into town. The crowds wanted him to ride on a tall, white horse, dignified in the sunlight, or on a chariot of war. But Jesus rode on an animal of peace, not of war. The crowds wanted Jesus to give an en-flamed and impassioned speech to inspire another revolution; they wanted shouts of soldiers, but they heard only the songs of children. And Jesus, Jesus didn’t say a word. Not a word as he rode into the city.

The crowd was chanting at the top of their lungs, "Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna to the King." And slowly, gradually the "Hosannas" became quieter and quieter and quieter. Then nothing. By afternoon, another chant had begun, almost in a whisper, "crucify him," softly, softly, louder, and finally bursting with power "Crucify him! Crucify him!" "He’s an imposter. A fake. He’s no king, that’s for sure."

They wanted a warrior on a war horse and instead they got a carpenter on a donkey, and so they killed him, and put a poster above his head: "King of the Jews." Big joke.

Eventually the crowds brought Jesus before Pilate and Pilate questioned him. "Are you the king of the Jews? Out with it, are you or aren’t you king of the Jews?" Jesus replied "My kingdom is not of this world. My kingdom is not like yours, Pilate. My kingdom is not of this world." Then Pilate asked the crucial question: "Well, then, Jesus, what kind of a king are you? What kind of a king are you, Jesus of Nazareth?"

That’s our question today: "What kind of a king was this Jesus of Nazareth?"

Did he live in a palace? Did he live in luxury? Did he have a beautiful golden throne on which to sit, a crown made out of diamonds, inlaid into gold, like other kings of this earth? Did he wear sumptuous robes and have a beautiful queen seated at his left hand? Did he have valets to do his every beck and call?

Not at all, for his kingship was not of this world. That is what he told us.

So, back to the question: "What kind of king was this Jesus of Nazareth?"

It is hard to recognize this king, because he does not act like a king. He doesn’t look like a king.

Can you imagine a king getting down on his knees and washing the feet of his disciples? Compassionately washing their feet? Shining their shoes like a poor shoeshine boy? Can you imagine a king doing that?

Or what kind of king dresses like a carpenter, does the work of a carpenter, builds benches and chairs all day? Have you heard of a king doing common labor?

What kind of king is it, who goes out and tries to get his subjects to love him? What kind of king is it, that is like a rejected father, goes out and waits at the fence for his son to come back home? What kind of king is it that searches for lost citizens like a shepherd searches for his lost sheep? What kind of king allows you to address him by his first name, which allows you to address him so personally?

And then to top it off, this king does the ultimate. What kind of king is this, when I have committed a crime, and I am about to be executed for my crime, this king comes forward and volunteers to be executed in my place? Have you ever heard of such a king? To die in the place of others? It’s like Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. Pilate, you will never get it."

What kind of king wants to rule our hearts? To rule within, and not from without? Who doesn’t want outer compliance from followers, but inner love? Who doesn’t want duty, but wants hearts doing the will of God?

What kind of king wants to rule our life styles, our habits, our homes, our marriages, our jobs, our friendships, and our time? The king wants to rule everything about us. Not by using religious tricks. Not by using political power. A strange king, indeed.

There were very few who recognized Jesus’ kingship, who recognized that here was a king who rules from the cross, whose cross is his throne, who rules through suffering, who rules through love and humility. Very few people recognized his kingship and very few people became citizens of his kingdom.

Jesus Christ, if your divine, turn my water into wine.

Prove to me that you’re no fool; walk across my swimming pool.

Not Jesus. Not this King.