The Day I Met Someone Famous

Packed away in one of the boxes in our garage is a black and white photo of me shaking hands with then Vice President George H. W. Bush. In the upper left-hand corner of the photo, in bold blue ink, is written, “Best Wishes, George Bush.” That is the only time I have ever met someone famous and powerful.

The occasion was a fundraiser for our local Congresswoman Marjorie Holt, who represented Maryland’s 4th congressional district. Every September Mrs. Holt held a bull roast at a private beach club on the shore of Chesapeake Bay which attracted hundreds of people. This was the third year that I had volunteered at the event.

Part of the draw for the guests, in addition to the good food and good music, was that Mrs. Holt always invited some political celebrity as the speaker. The previous year Bob Dole had been there. And the year prior to that, my first year as a volunteer, the speaker had been Henry Kissinger. The volunteers didn’t get to meet either of those men. They were busy, important people. They greeted and spoke to the big donors who were there, but not the volunteers.

Though I didn’t actually meet either of them, I did get close to Dr. Kissinger at one point. We stood next to each other at urinals in the restroom. I’d share more about that experience, but my wife asked me not to.

With George H. W. Bush, it was different. If you’ve ever heard stories of his being kind, gracious, and thoughtful, they’re true. That’s why Mrs. Holt knew that he’d be happy to take the time to greet and shake hands with the lowly volunteers.

This coming Sunday churches around the world will celebrate Palm Sunday, the day that recalls Jesus’ so-called triumphal entry into Jerusalem. In Mark’s account, he wrote,

 And they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it, and he sat on it. And many spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut from the fields. And those who went before and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!”

When I read this passage, I thought about the day I met Vice President Bush. It was quite a procession that accompanied his “entrance” at the fundraiser. Two Marine helicopters delivered him to a nearby Coast Guard station. From there he traveled in a motorcade of two armored SUVs with Secret Service agents, his own SUV, four police cars, a fire truck, and an ambulance. They arrived with lights flashing and sirens wailing. The vehicles came to a stop. The doors on the two agents’ SUV opened. Six large men in suits exited and immediately scanned the surroundings. All six were wearing sunglasses and had with a wire coming out of their jackets that connected to an earpiece. Newspaper photographers scurried up and started snapping pictures.

I compared that to the description of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. Jesus’ seemed kind of, well, shabby. Philip Yancey wrote about it this way:

The triumphal entry had about it an aura of ambivalence, and as I read all the accounts together, what stands out to me is the slapstick nature of the affair. I imagine a Roman officer galloping up to check on the disturbance. He has attended processions in Rome, where they do it right. The conquering general sits in a chariot of gold, with stallions straining at the reins and wheel spikes flashing in the sunlight. Behind him, officers in polished armor display the banners captured from vanquished armies. At the rear comes a ragtag procession of slaves and prisoners in chains, living proof of what happens to those who defy Rome.

 In Jesus’ triumphal entry, the adoring crowd makes up the ragtag procession: the lame, the blind, the children, the peasants from Galilee and Bethany. When the officer looks for the object of their attention, he spies a forlorn figure, riding on no stallion or chariot, but in the back of a baby donkey, a borrowed coat draped across its backbone serving as his saddle.

Yes, there was a whiff of triumph on Palm Sunday, but not the kind of triumph that might impress Rome and not the kind that impressed crowds in Jerusalem for long either. What manner of king was this?  

 A few years after I met him, Bush became president of the United States and was the most powerful man in the world. His processions got bigger and grander.

Jesus entered Jerusalem at the head of a ragtag procession, and Yancey asked, what manner of king was this? And that is the point, Jesus, who was in fact not just a king, but THE king, the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords, did not enter Jerusalem that day as a king. He entered it as a lamb.

James Montgomery Boice, in his commentary on John’s account of the triumphal entry showed that the day that Jesus entered Jerusalem was the same day that “the thousands of Passover lambs that were to be sacrificed were taken up to Jerusalem and kept in the homes of those who were to eat them.” In a city full of sacrificial lambs, the greatest sacrificial lamb came in at the head of a ragtag procession, riding on a donkey. He came not as a powerful king, but as a lamb prepared for the slaughter. He came not to rule, but to die.

Boice concluded, “Can you say with Isaiah. ‘He was pierced for my transgression, he was crushed for my iniquities, the punishment that brought me peace was upon him, and by his wounds I am healed’ (Isa 53:5)? Truly, ‘we all like sheep have gone astray,’ but in accord with grace ‘the Lord has lain on him the iniquity of us all.’”

Much love, Barry