Matthew 21:1-11
When they neared Jerusalem, having arrived at Bethphage on Mount Olives, Jesus sent two disciples with these instructions: “Go over to the village across from you. You’ll find a donkey tethered there, her colt with her. Untie her and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you’re doing, say, ‘The Master needs them!’ He will send them with you.” ..... The disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They led the donkey and colt out, laid some of their clothes on them, and Jesus mounted. Nearly all the people in the crowd threw their garments down on the road, giving him a royal welcome. Others cut branches from the trees and threw them down as a welcome mat. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, all of them calling out, “Hosanna to David’s son!” “Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!” “Hosanna in highest heaven!” .....
Matthew 27:11-12; 15-26
..... It was an old custom during the Feast for the governor to pardon a single prisoner named by the crowd. At the time, they had the infamous Jesus Barabbas in prison. With the crowd before him, Pilate said, “Which prisoner do you want me to pardon: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus the so-called Christ?” He knew it was through sheer spite that they had turned Jesus over to him ..... The governor asked, “Which of the two do you want me to pardon?” They said, “Barabbas!”
“Then what do I do with Jesus, the so-called Christ?” They all shouted, “Nail him to a cross!”
He objected, “But for what crime?” But they yelled all the louder, “Nail him to a cross!”
When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere and that a riot was imminent, he took a basin of water and washed his hands in full sight of the crowd, saying, “I’m washing my hands of responsibility for this man’s death. From now on, it’s in your hands. You are judge and jury.”
The crowd answered, “We’ll take the blame, we and our children after us.” Then Pilate pardoned Barabbas. But he had Jesus whipped, and then handed over for crucifixion.
When they neared Jerusalem, having arrived at Bethphage on Mount Olives, Jesus sent two disciples with these instructions: “Go over to the village across from you. You’ll find a donkey tethered there, her colt with her. Untie her and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you’re doing, say, ‘The Master needs them!’ He will send them with you.” ..... The disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They led the donkey and colt out, laid some of their clothes on them, and Jesus mounted. Nearly all the people in the crowd threw their garments down on the road, giving him a royal welcome. Others cut branches from the trees and threw them down as a welcome mat. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, all of them calling out, “Hosanna to David’s son!” “Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!” “Hosanna in highest heaven!” .....
Matthew 27:11-12; 15-26
..... It was an old custom during the Feast for the governor to pardon a single prisoner named by the crowd. At the time, they had the infamous Jesus Barabbas in prison. With the crowd before him, Pilate said, “Which prisoner do you want me to pardon: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus the so-called Christ?” He knew it was through sheer spite that they had turned Jesus over to him ..... The governor asked, “Which of the two do you want me to pardon?” They said, “Barabbas!”
“Then what do I do with Jesus, the so-called Christ?” They all shouted, “Nail him to a cross!”
He objected, “But for what crime?” But they yelled all the louder, “Nail him to a cross!”
When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere and that a riot was imminent, he took a basin of water and washed his hands in full sight of the crowd, saying, “I’m washing my hands of responsibility for this man’s death. From now on, it’s in your hands. You are judge and jury.”
The crowd answered, “We’ll take the blame, we and our children after us.” Then Pilate pardoned Barabbas. But he had Jesus whipped, and then handed over for crucifixion.
Today is Palm Sunday. It is also the sixth Sunday in our series of sermons looking into the idea of ‘the cross’ and all its many-layered meaning for us. It’s Palm Sunday, and the entry way into Holy Week – when so much happens so quickly. Those of us who can will meet here again on Thursday evening for Maundy Thursday, but except for that, most of us don’t have the time to spend in church at all the different stages of the week, so I end up trying to cram most of the Holy Week events into this one service today, and it becomes Palm-slash-Passion Sunday. The result is that we end up with two conflicting story-lines – two conflicting narratives -- and, as it happens, this pretty well sums up our ambivalence about our life in Christ.
We begin with Palm Sunday when there is a tipping-point moment when an appreciable number of people – those who actively follow Jesus, some who’ve heard him preach, maybe just a few hopeful dreamers who have heard about him – anyway, a significant number of people suddenly decide that this is the moment to claim Jesus as their long-promised Messiah. Jesus himself is an active part of this moment. He borrows a donkey and rides into Jerusalem to the acclaim of the people– to their cries of “Hosanna to David’s son!” “Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!” “Hosanna in highest heaven!”
I know I harp on this a lot, but it is important to note how much of this comes straight from the Old Testament. The part about the young donkey comes straight from the prophet Zechariah:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and victorious,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
And the ‘hosannas’ and the rejoicing over ‘the one who comes in the name of the Lord’ are from Psalm 118, among others. The people who are cheering and welcoming Jesus knew these references and knew exactly what they were saying when they used these words.
So we have this delirious moment of excitement and welcome and praise -- that appears to go exactly ......... nowhere. There’s no further rejoicing. No follow-up acknowledgment of Jesus’ king-ship. It is very puzzling, because just five days later – five days! – Jesus is once more appearing in public and the people are gathered around once again – but this time Jesus is a prisoner and the crowd – instead of calling “Hosanna!” and waving palm fronds, the crowd is shouting out “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
Crucify him? How do we do that? How do we shift gears so quickly from adoration to attack? From love to hate? From following to betrayal? Oh, it’s so very tempting to hide in protestations that we would never do that – that was ‘those’ people, not us. I’d like to think that. And yet, those people weren’t monsters. They were just ordinary people, living and responding in the world they were part of. Ordinary people, just like us. We, too, live in and react from the world that we are part of. We still react out of anger and fear and self-interest just like they did. We, too, love one minute, and hate the next. We are often just as blind as anyone there that day.
Right now, for instance, there are thousands of people in this country who think it is an OK idea to strip the food-stamp program out of the budget, because it costs too much – regardless of the thousands of children who will lose access to the minimum levels of food they need to grow and prosper. I think that’s monstrous – but apparently they don’t. How do we see things so differently? And that’s just one of the things that drives me crazy in our world right now. I could go on all day – but I won’t – you’re safe.
These are people – the ones I disagree with – who would no doubt describe themselves as good Christians – and that’s the most frightening part of all. Because I’m not here to attack “them”, whoever they are. This frightens me because looking at them, and what I see as their blindness, I am forced to wonder where I am equally blind – in question in what areas have I deluded myself that my actions are OK, when in reality they are not OK, they are simply convenient for me?
This is where the cross comes back into the story. Because we hang on a cross, as well. On one bar we have our faith and our love for Jesus and our very real desire to be good and do good – to be the people God calls us to be. And on the other bar we have our blind spots and our self-interest and our unwillingness to acknowledge the consequences for others of the choices we make. Oh, what the heck – let’s use that word we like to avoid – on the other bar we have our sinfulness.
We live on the cross of our two natures – so far, we’re neither fish nor fowl. Some days, we welcome our king into our lives, with joy and hope. And other days, we just want him to shut up and go away because what he’s asking is hard and inconvenient right now.
This is our cross to bear – our humanity. We know we’re on the way to God’s kingdom as a full-time 24/7 life. Some days we really get it! And some days we feel helplessly mired in the mud of everyday worldly life – knowing that we are hopeless. And then some days – most days, I suspect – we are just stuck there – pinned somewhere in the middle. This is our cross.
But there was another cross and Jesus was hung on it. Jesus, who surely knew the kingdom of God. Jesus, who while knowing his Father also lived right here with us with the tired bodies and the human pull toward self-preservation and the easy and angry frustration with those who just don’t see it our way!
Jesus, who, in the garden, begged to be spared the cross; who hurt and bled and possibly had moments of doubt and wavering -- Jesus, who nontheless trusted his Father to the very end and remained true to his call, his mission. This Jesus, from his cross, did something that makes all the difference in the world to us – Jesus forgave us all. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
Two thousand years before we even came along, Jesus forgave us – fully and completely – the kind of forgiveness that doesn’t even remember what was forgiven. Before we ever had a chance to struggle with self-interest and blindness Jesus forgave us – before we ever even had a chance to fail – Jesus loved us and forgave us those failings. And so whatever weight we feel we bear on our crosses, in our struggles, the one weight that is NOT there is the weight of Jesus’ condemnation or blame. Instead, there is only the love that lifts us and takes our human burdens from us.
This is Holy Week. It’s a time to look honestly at ourselves – as honestly as we can – and make the choice to try to do better. Not out of fear of reprisal or punishment – not to try to earn our way into God’s good graces – that’s already over and done – Jesus took care of if for us. But to be better, do better out of gratitude and love – out of the knowledge that when God looks at us he sees something way different than what we see. He sees someone worth loving and saving. Maybe we really are that person. Maybe we can learn to see that person.
This week let us look honestly at what Jesus did and does for us, and let us strive to follow the path he sets for us, and build God’s reign here and now for all God’s broken and struggling children. We are loved. Let us love in return.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
We begin with Palm Sunday when there is a tipping-point moment when an appreciable number of people – those who actively follow Jesus, some who’ve heard him preach, maybe just a few hopeful dreamers who have heard about him – anyway, a significant number of people suddenly decide that this is the moment to claim Jesus as their long-promised Messiah. Jesus himself is an active part of this moment. He borrows a donkey and rides into Jerusalem to the acclaim of the people– to their cries of “Hosanna to David’s son!” “Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!” “Hosanna in highest heaven!”
I know I harp on this a lot, but it is important to note how much of this comes straight from the Old Testament. The part about the young donkey comes straight from the prophet Zechariah:
Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!
Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and victorious,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
And the ‘hosannas’ and the rejoicing over ‘the one who comes in the name of the Lord’ are from Psalm 118, among others. The people who are cheering and welcoming Jesus knew these references and knew exactly what they were saying when they used these words.
So we have this delirious moment of excitement and welcome and praise -- that appears to go exactly ......... nowhere. There’s no further rejoicing. No follow-up acknowledgment of Jesus’ king-ship. It is very puzzling, because just five days later – five days! – Jesus is once more appearing in public and the people are gathered around once again – but this time Jesus is a prisoner and the crowd – instead of calling “Hosanna!” and waving palm fronds, the crowd is shouting out “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
Crucify him? How do we do that? How do we shift gears so quickly from adoration to attack? From love to hate? From following to betrayal? Oh, it’s so very tempting to hide in protestations that we would never do that – that was ‘those’ people, not us. I’d like to think that. And yet, those people weren’t monsters. They were just ordinary people, living and responding in the world they were part of. Ordinary people, just like us. We, too, live in and react from the world that we are part of. We still react out of anger and fear and self-interest just like they did. We, too, love one minute, and hate the next. We are often just as blind as anyone there that day.
Right now, for instance, there are thousands of people in this country who think it is an OK idea to strip the food-stamp program out of the budget, because it costs too much – regardless of the thousands of children who will lose access to the minimum levels of food they need to grow and prosper. I think that’s monstrous – but apparently they don’t. How do we see things so differently? And that’s just one of the things that drives me crazy in our world right now. I could go on all day – but I won’t – you’re safe.
These are people – the ones I disagree with – who would no doubt describe themselves as good Christians – and that’s the most frightening part of all. Because I’m not here to attack “them”, whoever they are. This frightens me because looking at them, and what I see as their blindness, I am forced to wonder where I am equally blind – in question in what areas have I deluded myself that my actions are OK, when in reality they are not OK, they are simply convenient for me?
This is where the cross comes back into the story. Because we hang on a cross, as well. On one bar we have our faith and our love for Jesus and our very real desire to be good and do good – to be the people God calls us to be. And on the other bar we have our blind spots and our self-interest and our unwillingness to acknowledge the consequences for others of the choices we make. Oh, what the heck – let’s use that word we like to avoid – on the other bar we have our sinfulness.
We live on the cross of our two natures – so far, we’re neither fish nor fowl. Some days, we welcome our king into our lives, with joy and hope. And other days, we just want him to shut up and go away because what he’s asking is hard and inconvenient right now.
This is our cross to bear – our humanity. We know we’re on the way to God’s kingdom as a full-time 24/7 life. Some days we really get it! And some days we feel helplessly mired in the mud of everyday worldly life – knowing that we are hopeless. And then some days – most days, I suspect – we are just stuck there – pinned somewhere in the middle. This is our cross.
But there was another cross and Jesus was hung on it. Jesus, who surely knew the kingdom of God. Jesus, who while knowing his Father also lived right here with us with the tired bodies and the human pull toward self-preservation and the easy and angry frustration with those who just don’t see it our way!
Jesus, who, in the garden, begged to be spared the cross; who hurt and bled and possibly had moments of doubt and wavering -- Jesus, who nontheless trusted his Father to the very end and remained true to his call, his mission. This Jesus, from his cross, did something that makes all the difference in the world to us – Jesus forgave us all. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
Two thousand years before we even came along, Jesus forgave us – fully and completely – the kind of forgiveness that doesn’t even remember what was forgiven. Before we ever had a chance to struggle with self-interest and blindness Jesus forgave us – before we ever even had a chance to fail – Jesus loved us and forgave us those failings. And so whatever weight we feel we bear on our crosses, in our struggles, the one weight that is NOT there is the weight of Jesus’ condemnation or blame. Instead, there is only the love that lifts us and takes our human burdens from us.
This is Holy Week. It’s a time to look honestly at ourselves – as honestly as we can – and make the choice to try to do better. Not out of fear of reprisal or punishment – not to try to earn our way into God’s good graces – that’s already over and done – Jesus took care of if for us. But to be better, do better out of gratitude and love – out of the knowledge that when God looks at us he sees something way different than what we see. He sees someone worth loving and saving. Maybe we really are that person. Maybe we can learn to see that person.
This week let us look honestly at what Jesus did and does for us, and let us strive to follow the path he sets for us, and build God’s reign here and now for all God’s broken and struggling children. We are loved. Let us love in return.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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