Well, here we are friends. It’s Palm Sunday. The first day of this most holy week of our church year. The first day of the week in which we celebrate the death and resurrection of our Lord. We met this morning in the social hall. We heard a reading from Mark’s Gospel about Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, how the crowds gathered and waved palm branches and shouted Hosanna to the Son of David as Jesus paraded into Jerusalem. And then we too waved palm branches and shouted Hosanna, and paraded into our sanctuary with trumpets and fanfare and singing. Then we heard the beautiful Christ hymn from Philippians, all about how Jesus emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, and humbled himself to the point of death, for which God highly exalted him. Now we are preparing to read the passion story, now we are preparing to see what emptying himself looks like.
It is a strange flow of events, this Palm/Passion Sunday, and you might be asking yourself why? Why do we not stay at Palm Sunday, with all its palm waving and shouting and triumph? Why read the passion now, why not save it until Good Friday? Today feels a bit like theological whiplash, as we who play the role of the crowd in this unfolding Gospel drama suddenly go from adoring fans to hostile mob, all in about twenty minutes. Why not pick a theme and ride it out?
But the important thing to remember about Palm Sunday is the crowd who shouted Hosanna had no idea what they were doing. The crowd that shouted Hosanna was not some superior class of people who hid themselves away for the rest of the week when the bad, scary, mean people came in and shouted crucify him. It’s all the same people.
We read the passion on Palm Sunday to remind ourselves that faith isn’t orderly. That we cannot compartmentalize humanity into saints and sinners, we cannot distance ourselves from the shouts of praise or the jeers of rage. We are the throngs who praised and waved palm fronds, the crowd who called for crucifixion. We are the women at the grave, Joseph who served, the Centurion who marveled. These people, this story, is us people, is our story.
Most importantly, we read the passion on Palm Sunday to remind us that this story had to happen in this way. That Jesus came for a story that was to unfold just like this. That Jesus came to save people who shouted and people who jeered, because they, because we, are all the same people. We are the people so loved by Christ that Christ emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, exalted by God so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess. So as we read the passion story, as we enter into this story, into our story, I invite you read along, play along, shout and listen and engage, but watch Jesus. Watch Jesus who fed and blessed and loved and forgave, who carried a cross and prayed and died. Let us enter into this story by singing our Gospel acclamation.
This is the passion of our Lord, Jesus Christ, according to John.
Glory to you, O Lord.
Mark 14:1-15:47
So now we wait. With Joseph and Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus we wait outside the tomb with a stone rolled in front. Maybe still as confused as before as to how we got from there to here, how we got from Hosanna to the grave. But even in our confusion, we wait anyway. We wait because promises remain even when all hope is lost. We wait in the chance that God’s word is stronger than death, stronger even than hope. We wait, because this is our story.
Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber ended her invitation into Holy Week with these words: “Two thousand years ago in the Middle East, there had to have been crowds who shouted praise and friends who betrayed and followers who denied and women who wept and soldiers who mocked and thieves who believed. It would have happened like this even if the Jesus event were happening now instead of then. Even if we knew everything in advance – were we the ones on the street we too would shout Hosanna and a few days later shout crucify him. And that’s the good news when it comes down to it. Because these people of the Holy Week story are we people. And we people are the likes of which God came to save. God did not become human and dwell among us as Jesus to save only an improved, doesn’t make the wrong choices kind of people. There is no improved version of humanity that could have done any differently. So go ahead. Don’t wait until you think your motivations are correct. Just wave branches. Shout praise for the wrong reason. Eat a meal. Shout Crucify him. Walk away when the cock crows.” And I will add, walk away but then come, come to the font, come to the table, come and experience that Christ is here, come and experience that this story is true, come and receive in outstretched hands the Christ who came for you. Come meet the Christ who meets us in bread and wine, in water and word, come know that you are known and loved by God. This week is a celebration of a God whose love knows no bounds, a God who came in human likeness and humbled himself, became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross, so that we might be exalted, so that we might be saved, so that we might know love. Bolz-Weber finished her reflection, “Because we, as we are and not as some improved version of ourselves…we are who God came to save. And nothing can stop what’s going to happen.” We can't stop God from loving us. Amen.
Quote by Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber from her sermon "Palm Sunday Sermon about Morbid Reflections, Home Perms, and Fickle Crowds," http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/03/palm-sunday-sermon-about-morbid-reflection-home-perms-and-fickle-crowds/
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