"His disciples did not understand this at first..."

John 12:16a

We Protestants don't spend a lot of time talking about saints. They don't play much of a role in our spiritual or liturgical lives. Indeed, it's only been in recent years that we've reclaimed All Saints Day. Only recently that we've given ourselves permission to celebrate and mourn those dear ones who have gone before us, whose lives and faith shaped and molded our own lives and our own faith.

So it is not necessarily our first impulse to think of the disciples themselves as saints. But if pressed we would probably agree with our Catholic and Episcopalian brothers and sisters that Peter, James, and John, and the rest of the disciples were the first saints in Christian history. Giants of faith.

But the truth is more complex than that. The truth is, the disciples may be the first saints in Christian history, but they were by no means giants of the faith.

The writer William Stringfellow notes that on the basis of the biblical texts, "none of the disciples . . . can be said . . . to have understood Jesus or to have . . comprehended or [even] liked his teaching, or to have recognized his works, or acknowledged his authority, or welcomed his vocation, or believed Jesus . . . to be the Lord of creation" ("Exemplary Disbelief," William Stringfellow, Sojourners Magazine, March 1980).

That's maybe a little harsh, but Stringfellow is right. If the Bible, and not Christian tradition, is the source of the disciples' reputation, then they are not giants of the faith. If they exemplify anything, they exemplify not faith but incredulity.

They are relentlessly skeptical about who Jesus was and is, and painfully slow to comprehend the meaning of his ministry and teaching.

Peter comes the closest to "getting it." "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" he confesses, when Jesus asks the disciples, point blank, Who do you say that I am? Not who does the crowd say that I am. Not who do the scribes and the Pharisees say that I am. Not the poor people I've ministered to. Not the hungry people I've feed. Not the sick folks whom I've healed. Not the lepers whom I have touched with my own hands, not the women who have loved and followed me.

Not them. I'm not interested in who they think I am, cause they know. They've seen and felt and experienced for themselves who I am. They know. They get it.

So, I'm not interested in who they say I am. I'm interested in you, those of you who have shared this journey with me; you who have witnessed the miracles and documented the healings. Who do you say that I am?

Okay, Jesus, you are the Christ, Peter allows.

But there seems to be little conviction in his statement. For when Jesus spells out what that actually means, when he spells out what lies ahead, what it means for him to be the son of the living God and what that requires of him; when he specifies that his Messiah-love is so big as to include the whole world, and so revolutionary it's gonna get him killed, Peter rebukes him.

No, no, Jesus. You've got it all wrong. You're confusing yourself with someone else. You've come to liberate us . You've come to be King of Israel . Dying is not part of the plan, Jesus. Get your story straight.

Sure enough crunch time finally comes at the end of this week we are now entering into, Holy Week. And when it does, when crunch time comes, Peter's lack of understanding, his lack of insight, his lack of genuine faith, is exposed for the world to see. For on the night of Jesus' arrest, the night when his mentor needed him the most, Peter denies him. Take him away. I don't know this man.

Of course he's not alone among the disciples in falling short of the mark. Most infamously Judas betrays Jesus. More surprisingly, perhaps, Thomas doubts him. The resurrected Christ greets him by name, but it's still somehow not enough for Thomas. Show me your hands, Jesus, then I'll believe . . .

These of course are just the most notorious examples. I said a few weeks ago that the book of Acts is basically one long commentary on how the disciples fought among themselves. A story of their struggle to realize the Reign of God that Jesus had taught them about, their struggle to practice the community of the new covenant he demonstrated for them day in and day out.

But the roots of the disciples' struggle reach back into the gospels, into the time when they still walked along side their teacher. Two of them -- James and John, the sons of Zebedee -- scheme to sit beside Jesus in his glory, their lust for power and prestige betraying their complete lack of insight into what this donkey-riding Messiah was all about.

Still earlier, Peter again does his part up on that mountain when Jesus' goes nova and is transfigured before them, his countenance blazing like the sun. In his bewilderment, Peter wants to build three tabernacles there. He wants to lock up God's presence in safe little sheds. Then still later, on what will become for us Maundy Thursday, Peter again rebukes his master when Jesus tries to serve him by washing his feet. No Jesus, not my feet but all of me. Can't you do anything right, Jesus? Hours later, he will deny knowing this man.

They really don't get it. None of them seem to. Their bewilderment, their incredulity, their failure to grasp the significance of this man, their failure to be grasped by this new movement they've been asked to join -- all of that is present even now, on this day, as Jesus rides into Jerusalem.

Events are unfolding just as Jesus said they would. Crowds are gathering in Jerusalem for Passover, but also to see this rock star figure. And someone else, too. The text tells us they came not just to see Jesus, but also to see Lazarus -- this mortal man who was once dead for days, his presence here living, breathing proof that Jesus is who he says he is.

Finally the day dawns, the day they've been waiting for, when Jesus is poised to enter Jerusalem. You gotta think most of them were waiting for this very moment. Okay, he can walk on water. He can multiply loaves and fishes. But those are magic tricks. Very impressive tricks, mind you, but I wanna know, is he the Messiah, or is he not? Is he really gonna kick out the Romans and restore the throne to Israel? Or has it all been a sham?

There's a buzz in the air that morning. A buzz probably not a lot different than if the Rolling Stones or Tiger Woods was coming to town. Break out your sunglasses and your body guards, Jesus. It's show time and you're the star. The crowds are waiting to catch a glimpse.

So what does he do? He goes and grabs a donkey. He's used to donkeys. He rode one with his mother all the way to Egypt when he was an infant, already on the run from the authorities whose power he threatened even then. And now it's time to ride one again, back into the political and religious heart of Israel.

But a donkey? The disciples are stunned. As John puts it, "His disciples did not understand this at first..."

What a surprise. They've not really understood anything to this point. Now they want their boss to cruise into town in a chariot, the equivalent of a presidential limo, and he chooses instead a donkey, the equivalent of a Ford Pinto.

About the only thing left to say is, Bless their hearts . And that's not a good "Bless their hearts." That's the version that means, "Sugar, these boys are just dumb as a box of rocks."

Except that is not the only thing left to say. If the disciples are so relentlessly dim-witted, if these closest followers of Jesus are portrayed in such unflattering light, maybe there's a reason for that.

And maybe the reason is that faith - real, lasting, durable faith -- is difficult. Nowadays you pick up the phone, dial an 800#, confess your sins to an anonymous operator, and presto, you've got a personal relationship with Jesus.

Fine, except that a personal relationship with Jesus wasn't necessarily enough for the disciples. Why should it be for us?

Maybe that's the point these gospel storytellers are trying to convey to us. Faith is hard.

They knew. The men who wrote these stories were people just like you and I. They didn't have the same challenges to their faith as we do in our day, at least they didn't have the same words -- cancer, terrorists, Alzheimer's - but they knew that faith in this Christ was not easy even under the best of circumstances.

These stories underscore that fact. They are a repudiation of the idea that all you have to do is get down on your knees, invite Jesus into your heart and Shazaam everything's gonna be okay. No more crying, no more tears, no more hardship, no more fears.

Would that such a fairy tale were true. But it's not. If it was hard for Peter to understand even having watch Jesus glow like the sun; if it was hard for Thomas to understand even as he stared the risen Christ right in the eye, surely it will be hard for us, too, sometimes.

But here's the good news. The disciples do, finally, get it. "His disciples did not understand these things at first," John tells us. "But," he continues, "when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him."

Sometimes this faith of ours only makes sense when you get the whole story, from birth in a stable, to the donkey-ride into Jerusalem, to the betrayal, the arrest, the death, and the resurrection.

Sometimes it takes conscious, intentional reflection to get the full truth of Jesus, to get the full meaning of the Christ-event whose culmination we will celebrate next Sunday.

It's important we do that. It's important that we reflect from time to time on the whole story. Important because of what this day, and the week to come, tell us about human nature. About ourselves.

The crowd was hungry for a rock star, for a bona fide king. That's why they waved palm branches. Not just because palm branches were handy, but because they were in that time symbols of national pride and power. Like waving national flags at the Olympics.

They wanted a king, and they got a servant instead. And they weren't happy. And maybe sometimes we're that way, too. In our hearts we want a Messiah. But we want the one we have invented for ourselves. The one who rides into town in a limo, like a knight in shining armor, riding on a white horse.

But we've got one who washes feet for a living and who chooses to ride on donkeys instead. "His disciples did not understand these things at first," John tells us. "But," he continues, "when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him.

As we enter into Holy Week, it's good for us to reflect on the whole story.

Amen