What
Wondrous Love Is This? (3/20/16)
Wilhelm Morgner, The Entry of Christ into Jerusalem
I had trouble deciding on my texts for Palm Sunday. Should I go with the story of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem or should I preach on the Passion story? I chose both. This week's message looks at the connections between those two stories.
Sermon
Good morning!
I was talking to my friend Susan last week and she asked me which story I was
preaching on this morning. The truth was, I couldn’t decide between the liturgy
of the palms and the liturgy of the passion. So I chose both. In the first
story, we see Jesus make his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. We hear the crowds
shout, “Hosanna!”
In
the story of the passion, we see Jesus betrayed and arrested, and then put on
trial. We hear the soldiers mocking Jesus and we see him dressed in an elegant
robe, clothed like a king, but held as a prisoner. We hear the crowds shout,
“Crucify him!” And then they ask Pilate to free a murderer instead. We also see
Simon of Cyrene bearing the cross and many people wailing for Jesus. When they
get to Golgotha, Jesus is again mocked by soldiers. Later we see Jesus on the
cross, in the company of two thieves. We hear Jesus offer a final prayer to God
the Father, then he dies, and we hear a centurion confess Jesus’ innocence.
There’s
so much going on in the passion narrative; it would take me—well, you guys
don’t mind if I run a little long this morning? I think I could cover this in
an hour and a half. You guys have any plans? I could focus on the first story.
After all, it’s shorter. But the truth is, you can’t have one story without the
other. You can’t have the shouts of loud “Hosannas” without the crowds
chanting, “Crucify him!” While we want to remain in the triumph and the earthly
glory, we must also watch the broken and suffering Christ on the cross.
It’s
worth pointing out that the scene of Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey would
have been similar to a military parade. The people who witnessed Jesus riding
into the city and the first generations of people to hear this story, all of
them would be familiar with the scene. Jesus rode into Jerusalem the same way
an emperor or a great military hero would have entered a city. But Jesus rode
in on a donkey. He hadn’t conquered any territories or won any battles—not at
that point. The victory comes later in the story and it’s not the victory that
the adoring crowds expect Jesus to bring. Perhaps they should have asked why
Jesus rode in on a donkey. Perhaps they were so sure that Jesus would drive the
Romans out and change their present reality that they never thought to ask.
The
glory, laud, and honor of Palm Sunday heighten the drama of Jesus’ many
betrayals—first by Judas, then Peter, and also by the crowds that shouted,
“Crucify him,” and then asked for the release of a murderer instead of Jesus.
It takes only a few days for all these different people to turn on Jesus.
These
two stories can’t be separated from one another; the glory of Palm Sunday is
linked to the betrayals and the crucifixion. Jesus has to be rejected before he
can be executed, and he can’t be resurrected if he isn’t crucified. But I’m
getting ahead of the story; we need to stay in the passion narrative for a
little while longer, even if it’s not comfortable.
The
story is uncomfortable because we don’t want to see Jesus suffer and die. We
want the glory of Palm Sunday and we want Easter morning, but we’re not there
yet. These two stories are pretty straightforward. I don’t have to decode a
bunch of hidden meanings, so that begs the question, where are we in this
story?
Are
we in the crowds on Palm Sunday? That seems like a good thing. We all love
Jesus, so of course we want to shout loud Hosannas! But maybe we only want to
shout in church. I mean, if we did it out there, people might think we were
crazy. When’s the last time you shouted “Hosanna!” in McDonald’s or Starbucks
or Shop-n-Save? Are you so alive with the power of the Holy Spirit that you
shout “Hosanna!” with every fiber of your being? Or are you just trying to live
in the glorious past of this church as it was thirty or forty years ago?
I
would suspect that none of us is ready to jump up and say that we’re Pilate or
the soldiers, or even Peter. But the truth is, we all deny Christ from time to
time. Jesus is the only one to walk through this life without sin. For that
matter, none of us wants to admit that we were in the crowds that shouted,
“Crucify him!” Of course, there had to be a few people in that crowd who had
shouted “Hosanna!” on Palm Sunday. The truth is more complicated than that: we
are all of these people from time to time.
Sometimes
we are Simon of Cyrene, helping to bear the burden. Sometimes we do wave palm
branches and shout loud Hosannas! Other times we draw a sword and try to
prevent the authorities from arresting Jesus. And then sometimes we deny that
we know who Jesus is. We don’t live up to or into the call to be disciples. Or
we try to live in a moment that has already passed.
We
can’t stay in Palm Sunday forever and we can’t prevent the Romans from
arresting and crucifying Jesus. There was no stopping the crucifixion:
Jesus laid down his
life. It wasn’t taken from him; he let it go. Along the way, he also released
his friends who were too tired or frightened to continue the journey with him.
He let go of rights we consider inalienable–to his life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness. To what did he hold fast? He held fast to his commitment
to live what he preached. He held fast to following the Father’s will, at all
costs. He held fast to the mission to which he had been appointed, “not to be
served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45) He
held fast to the Word of God, and let go of the words of anxiety and warning
with which well-meaning friends tried to redirect his course.[1]
Jesus didn’t stand still and bask in the glory of
Palm Sunday, he moved forward in faith and obedience. He accepted the burden
that was laid upon him. He showed the most wondrous love and took away our sin.
The
job of savior has already been taken; our burden is much lighter than that. We
cannot match the perfect, wondrous love that Christ has shown to each of us.
Yet we are called to be disciples; to follow Christ in humility, obedience,
service, and love. We have to set aside our own comfort and freedom to do this.
This is difficult, but it is our calling, all the same. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Benediction
Now,
beloved, as you depart from this place, remember that we are an Easter people. We
are called to be Christ’s church in the world, the world today. Go forth and be
instruments of God’s peace and reconciliation. Do not return evil for evil to
any person, but know that we are all loved by God, and that we are called to
reflect that love to everyone we meet. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord,
let all God’s children say, Amen!
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