Greetings, Lord

If Jesus came in and sat down in our sanctuary, would we recognize him? We’d greet him for sure, new faces can’t really hide in our congregation! But would we identify him as Jesus? If we didn’t know he had a baby donkey tied to the sycamore tree, would we have a spark of recognition? When we brought this question up in Sunday School yesterday, (we meet in the pastor’s study at 10am, you’re welcome to join us) Sandy said he felt like we would definitely know it was Jesus because he’s a divine presence.  Sandy said, “I think the hairs on the back of my neck would stand up.” I like that idea. Maybe he’d have that transfigured aura about him, maybe he’d be glowing.  Maybe if you shook his hand, you’d get a little zing like when you get shocked by static electricity in the wintertime.  Kathy made the valid point that if that were the case, why didn’t everyone who encountered Jesus when he walked among us believe he was as he said?  Certainly, some people did, but many denied his message. I believe my response was something to the effect of, “we have the advantage of knowing his whole story—we know how it ends; thus, we’d be more likely to realize if it were Jesus who stood before us.” And then Marsha brought it home for us in noting, “if we have God and Jesus inside each of us, we’ve already met him. We should recognize him in each other.”  AHH! Ding, ding, ding! 10 points for Gryffindor (Harry Potter reference, what?)!

So, there isn’t a donkey tied up out front because Jesus drives a Subaru. He isn’t wearing robes; he’s got on a fun tie. He may not need his beard trimmed; he might not have much hair at all! He loves the land; he’s a Master Gardener.  He’s got a vineyard. He raises cattle. He reads books and substitutes in classrooms at the elementary school. He’ll hunt and fish with you. He’s in the bowling league. He’s a Ruritan. He’ll tell a good joke and belly laugh at your stories. He’s lived here his whole life. He’s a transplant from “up north.” He washes and dries the dishes. He sweeps the walks. He serves the punch.  He definitely enjoys chatting with people at meals, so I suspect he went through the snack line after worship—I think he has a weakness for giant-sized Goldfish and chicken-salad cups.  He didn’t have to say much, no need to preach but he likes to sing, do you think he’d be a tenor? Alto? Soprano?? I’m certain he also wears bows in his hair and cute gold dress shoes. By the same turn, he’s also a big brother, a quiet middle-schooler and the mischievous youngest child.  He’s a twin, too.  He’s also the voice of any child whispering or fussing in church, desperate to be free to run. Catch your reflection in the mirror—there he is!

So maybe the idea of waving our palms (our hands) at each other and saying, “Hosanna!” in greeting isn’t so far off the mark.  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.  And blessed are you who welcomes him.