Sermon Illustrations For Passion Sunday (2020)
Illustration
Psalm 31:9-16
As I read this psalm, I am taken back to the OB/GYN office on Friday, November 19, 1982. In that office that afternoon my husband and I were told that our twins had no heartbeats and had died in utero. At that moment my bones fell away, I could not stand. I could not even breathe. I knew the definition of misery as I have never known it. Walking into the hospital on Monday morning for labor to be induced so I could deliver our dead sons, I held onto my husband’s arm as if it were my only lifeline. Soon after the delivery that afternoon, I was taken to a room on the obstetrics floor — a floor filled with moms, dads and their newborn infants. It seemed more than I could bear. A friend, a Catholic priest, came to visit me later that evening. I wailed to him, the question I had been asking since Friday. “Why me?” His response cut me to the core. “Why not you? Who would you wish this on? Your faith anchors you and will help you survive. What about those who have no faith?” I learned to trust God on that day more than I ever had before. For I knew, God was carrying this burden with me, with my husband, with our five-year-old son.
Bonnie B.
* * *
Isaiah 50:4-9a
In a 2018 Gallup poll, one in four Americans reported always or often feeling burned out. Another 44% said they felt that way sometimes. Our lesson addresses those who are weary. Faith, it seems, gives energy. Mega-church pastor Charles Stanley once put it this way:
We can be tired, weary and emotionally distraught, but after spending time alone with God, we find that He injects into our bodies energy, power and strength.
This is not surprising in view of the fact that the brain chemical dopamine which is secreted in faith experiences gives energy (Daniel Amen, Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, esp. p.148). And some Christians, like the ancient African theologian Dionysius of Alexandria, have claimed that God is energy (Ante Nicene Fathers, Vol.6, p.91). Like the big bang is the source of all energy and matter in the universe, so its source, God, is energy. No wonder association with energy’s source energizes the weary.
Mark E.
* * *
Isaiah 50:4-9a
This passage is often interpreted as the words of the suffering servant, but who is he? Various individuals have been suggested, including, Hezekiah, Isaiah, Uzziah, Josiah, a generic leper, Jeremiah, Moses, Sheshbazzar, Zerubbabel, Nehemiah, Jehoiachin, Eleazar, Ezekiel, Cyrus, Job, Meshullam, Zedekiah, and of course, Jesus Christ. But, in the wake of this pandemic, as schools around the country close, and parents find themselves suddenly thrust into the role of homeschool teacher, I cannot imagine a more appropriate passage for those struggling to get their kid(s) to just sit still for just one hour––half an hour––20 minutes, even? Please?!
In the NRSV, the passage reads, “The LORD God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens––wakens my ear to listen to those who are taught” (Isaiah 50:4). We know our kids are as weary of sitting at the kitchen table doing math problems as we are of nagging them. But still, every morning, as we hear the broken-record repeat of “Mom, I’m booooooooooored,” we pray that, indeed, the LORD God has given us the tongue of a teacher.
“I have tried so hard, Lord.” We say in the crowded spaces of our heads as, with one hand, we furiously search YouTube for an age-appropriate education video on the Spanish civil war, while our other stirs the pot with tonight’s dinner––all while trying to get that stupid video-conferencing with the boss to work. “I was not rebellious, I did not turn backwards” (50:5), we protest through gritted teeth.
“I gave my back to those who struck me and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard,” we think, as the toddler flings their bowl of peas straight at the dog, or the infant vomits on our last clean T-shirt, or the teenager slams their bedroom door. “I did not hide my face from insult and spitting” (50:6). It’s so hard, and there are so many days we falter. We lose our temper. We break down and cry in the bathroom. We give up and just hand over the iPad or the video game controller.
And yet, it is with the strength of the suffering servant––chosen by God to bring light to the world––that every day, we wake up again, in the belief that “The LORD God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced…It is the LORD God who helps me; who will declare me guilty?” (50:7-9a).
M T.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
Celine Dion was married to her husband, Rene Agnelli, for 21 years when he died on January 14, 2016. They met when she was a 12-year-old singer, and he became her manager. They later married, and he continued to manage her career. Despite their 25-year age difference, it was a very loving and committed relationship. Together they had three children. Agnelli was first diagnosed with throat cancer in 1999, and it was successfully treated. But then in 2014 it returned, and this time it was terminal. As the disease progressed, Agnelli was unable to speak. So, he began to write his wife notes. In the last days of his life, Agnelli wrote, “The end is near, I feel it.” Dion shot back, “How can you say that? Are you in more pain?” Years later, reflecting on that moment Dion realized, “Now I know it’s possible for someone dying to feel when it comes.”
Ron L.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
It’s not clear if in this passage is Paul’s original writing, or if he is quoting a creed or statement of faith, or perhaps a well-known hymn. It’s applicability to the Passion of Christ is obvious, as it speaks of Jesus being obedient, even to the cross, but some have pointed out it may have been an early Christian litany for foot-washing, in imitation of Jesus in John 13. Jesus, equal with God, took on the form of a slave – and foot-washing was a humiliating action reserved for slaves. The early church practiced foot-washing as one of its rituals, in imitation of Christ. This Philippian text is referenced in John Christopher Thomas’ book about John 13 and foot-washing.
Gerald F. Hawthorne, author of the Word Biblical Commentary for Philippians, makes the following comparisons between John 13 and Philippians 2:5-11. John has Jesus rise from the table and lay aside his outer garments. Paul acknowledge Jesus’ divine nature, which he sets aside. Jesus then girds himself with a towel and takes upon himself the form of a slave to wash the feet of his disciples, just as Paul states that Jesus took the form of a slave in being born in the likeness of humanity. Afterwards, Jesus once more puts on his outer garments and takes his place at the head of the table, and Paul also says that God exalts Jesus and gives him the highest place and the name above every name. Hawthorne concludes the comparison by pointing out Jesus states that he is indeed their Lord and Master, and Paul says that someday everyone will acknowledge Jesus as Lord. (pp78ff.)
(Want to know more? See: Footwashing in John 13 and the Johannine Community by John Christopher Thomas, T. & T. Clark Publishers.)
Frank R.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
There is a painting of Christ by Holman Hunt called Shadow of Death. The painting depicts Jesus standing inside his father’s carpenter shop in Nazareth. He has put his saw down and is stripped down to a cloth around his waist. Jesus, seemingly tired from a long day, stretches his arms above his head, casting a shadow onto the wall in the shape of a person being crucified. A long narrow tool rack hanging on the wall intersects perfectly with his shadow to complete the impression of a cross.
A woman in the foreground on the left-hand side, kneels among the woodchips, with her hands resting upon a chest. It seems to foreshadow Mary at Jesus’ cross.
This painting shows us in an artistic way what the Bible show us with words. The shadow of the cross was cast over Christ’s life from the beginning. His death lies at the heart of his story, and ours. Jesus “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.” (vs. 8) He did it for you and me. He died so that we wouldn’t have to. Truly, Jesus Christ is Lord!
Bill T.
* * *
Matthew 26:14--27:66 or Matthew 27:11-54
It is difficult, challenging, to consider again as we do every year what happened to Jesus and to recognize our role in putting Him on the cross. Martin Luther nicely explained why it is so difficult to rehearse this story in our hearts:
Our nature is opposed to the function of the power of Christ’s Passion... We must clearly transfer our sins from ourselves to Christ... Hence you must say: “I see my sin in Christ, therefore my sin is not mine but another’s. I see it in Christ. (Luther’s Works, Vol.17, p.223)
The story of the Passion puts a claim on us. It is as John Calvin once wrote:
This claims our attention, that every man, remembering his own weakness, may earnestly resort to the assistance of the Holy Spirit... (Calvin’s Commentaries, Vol.XVII, p.220)
Modern theologian Karl Barth nicely explains what we need in order to appreciate Passion Sunday and the stories of Christ’s suffering. We need wonder and astonishment, he claims. That we should be recipients of the grace and love of God, that despite our unworthiness Christ went through all He did for us, can only lead to wonder and amazement (Evangelical Theology, esp. 53ff.)!
Mark E.
* * *
Matthew 26:14--27:66
We, who are active in the church, hear this reading once a year. We marvel at the betrayal of friends, the desertion of friends, the fear and the courage in this reading. For me, it is more than that. As I invite people to eat the bread and drink the cup at the communion table, I remind them that Jesus served that first communion meal to the one who would betray him, the one who would deny him, and the ones who would desert him – and he did so freely and with love. If those friends, disciples who had been living and working with Jesus for three years, were welcome at the celebration of the sacrifice Jesus was about to make, so, my friends, are we welcomed. As I say those words, I envision those who have hurt, betrayed, deserted and denied me. I welcome them at the table as well – I struggle sometimes to love them, but I include them at the feast. Oh, if only we could all do that at places and at times other than the communion table!
Bonnie B.
* * *
Matthew 26:14-27:66 or Matthew 27:11-54
Why is this night different from all other nights?
Known as the “Ma Nishtana,” one of the cornerstones of the Passover Seder is the recitation of four questions, which begin, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Traditionally sung by the youngest child, the more cynically minded tend to assume the questions are meant to keep the children awake and paying attention during what is otherwise a long and boring liturgy (from a kid’s point of view, of course).
I won’t go into detail about the questions, except to mention the answer. The answer is the same to all four questions, i.e., “we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and the LORD, our God, brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm” (Deuteronomy 6:21).
Now, it is unlikely that Jesus would have ever recited “Ma Nishtana” since Mark 6:3 and Matthew 13:55-56 mention that he has siblings. Assuming that Mary was indeed a virgin when she conceived, Jesus was most likely the oldest in the family.
Still, I mention “the four questions” because I think it is important that the Last Supper was a Passover Seder. According to the order of the liturgy, “Ma Nishtana” would have been asked before Jesus and his disciples began to eat; but when I imagine the Last Supper, I picture the youngest child humming to himself, singing under his breath, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
Imagine, once that little tune escapes the child’s mouth: “Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom’” (Matthew 26:26-29)
At that moment, for the first time, there was a new answer to the question, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
M T.
As I read this psalm, I am taken back to the OB/GYN office on Friday, November 19, 1982. In that office that afternoon my husband and I were told that our twins had no heartbeats and had died in utero. At that moment my bones fell away, I could not stand. I could not even breathe. I knew the definition of misery as I have never known it. Walking into the hospital on Monday morning for labor to be induced so I could deliver our dead sons, I held onto my husband’s arm as if it were my only lifeline. Soon after the delivery that afternoon, I was taken to a room on the obstetrics floor — a floor filled with moms, dads and their newborn infants. It seemed more than I could bear. A friend, a Catholic priest, came to visit me later that evening. I wailed to him, the question I had been asking since Friday. “Why me?” His response cut me to the core. “Why not you? Who would you wish this on? Your faith anchors you and will help you survive. What about those who have no faith?” I learned to trust God on that day more than I ever had before. For I knew, God was carrying this burden with me, with my husband, with our five-year-old son.
Bonnie B.
* * *
Isaiah 50:4-9a
In a 2018 Gallup poll, one in four Americans reported always or often feeling burned out. Another 44% said they felt that way sometimes. Our lesson addresses those who are weary. Faith, it seems, gives energy. Mega-church pastor Charles Stanley once put it this way:
We can be tired, weary and emotionally distraught, but after spending time alone with God, we find that He injects into our bodies energy, power and strength.
This is not surprising in view of the fact that the brain chemical dopamine which is secreted in faith experiences gives energy (Daniel Amen, Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, esp. p.148). And some Christians, like the ancient African theologian Dionysius of Alexandria, have claimed that God is energy (Ante Nicene Fathers, Vol.6, p.91). Like the big bang is the source of all energy and matter in the universe, so its source, God, is energy. No wonder association with energy’s source energizes the weary.
Mark E.
* * *
Isaiah 50:4-9a
This passage is often interpreted as the words of the suffering servant, but who is he? Various individuals have been suggested, including, Hezekiah, Isaiah, Uzziah, Josiah, a generic leper, Jeremiah, Moses, Sheshbazzar, Zerubbabel, Nehemiah, Jehoiachin, Eleazar, Ezekiel, Cyrus, Job, Meshullam, Zedekiah, and of course, Jesus Christ. But, in the wake of this pandemic, as schools around the country close, and parents find themselves suddenly thrust into the role of homeschool teacher, I cannot imagine a more appropriate passage for those struggling to get their kid(s) to just sit still for just one hour––half an hour––20 minutes, even? Please?!
In the NRSV, the passage reads, “The LORD God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens––wakens my ear to listen to those who are taught” (Isaiah 50:4). We know our kids are as weary of sitting at the kitchen table doing math problems as we are of nagging them. But still, every morning, as we hear the broken-record repeat of “Mom, I’m booooooooooored,” we pray that, indeed, the LORD God has given us the tongue of a teacher.
“I have tried so hard, Lord.” We say in the crowded spaces of our heads as, with one hand, we furiously search YouTube for an age-appropriate education video on the Spanish civil war, while our other stirs the pot with tonight’s dinner––all while trying to get that stupid video-conferencing with the boss to work. “I was not rebellious, I did not turn backwards” (50:5), we protest through gritted teeth.
“I gave my back to those who struck me and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard,” we think, as the toddler flings their bowl of peas straight at the dog, or the infant vomits on our last clean T-shirt, or the teenager slams their bedroom door. “I did not hide my face from insult and spitting” (50:6). It’s so hard, and there are so many days we falter. We lose our temper. We break down and cry in the bathroom. We give up and just hand over the iPad or the video game controller.
And yet, it is with the strength of the suffering servant––chosen by God to bring light to the world––that every day, we wake up again, in the belief that “The LORD God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced…It is the LORD God who helps me; who will declare me guilty?” (50:7-9a).
M T.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
Celine Dion was married to her husband, Rene Agnelli, for 21 years when he died on January 14, 2016. They met when she was a 12-year-old singer, and he became her manager. They later married, and he continued to manage her career. Despite their 25-year age difference, it was a very loving and committed relationship. Together they had three children. Agnelli was first diagnosed with throat cancer in 1999, and it was successfully treated. But then in 2014 it returned, and this time it was terminal. As the disease progressed, Agnelli was unable to speak. So, he began to write his wife notes. In the last days of his life, Agnelli wrote, “The end is near, I feel it.” Dion shot back, “How can you say that? Are you in more pain?” Years later, reflecting on that moment Dion realized, “Now I know it’s possible for someone dying to feel when it comes.”
Ron L.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
It’s not clear if in this passage is Paul’s original writing, or if he is quoting a creed or statement of faith, or perhaps a well-known hymn. It’s applicability to the Passion of Christ is obvious, as it speaks of Jesus being obedient, even to the cross, but some have pointed out it may have been an early Christian litany for foot-washing, in imitation of Jesus in John 13. Jesus, equal with God, took on the form of a slave – and foot-washing was a humiliating action reserved for slaves. The early church practiced foot-washing as one of its rituals, in imitation of Christ. This Philippian text is referenced in John Christopher Thomas’ book about John 13 and foot-washing.
Gerald F. Hawthorne, author of the Word Biblical Commentary for Philippians, makes the following comparisons between John 13 and Philippians 2:5-11. John has Jesus rise from the table and lay aside his outer garments. Paul acknowledge Jesus’ divine nature, which he sets aside. Jesus then girds himself with a towel and takes upon himself the form of a slave to wash the feet of his disciples, just as Paul states that Jesus took the form of a slave in being born in the likeness of humanity. Afterwards, Jesus once more puts on his outer garments and takes his place at the head of the table, and Paul also says that God exalts Jesus and gives him the highest place and the name above every name. Hawthorne concludes the comparison by pointing out Jesus states that he is indeed their Lord and Master, and Paul says that someday everyone will acknowledge Jesus as Lord. (pp78ff.)
(Want to know more? See: Footwashing in John 13 and the Johannine Community by John Christopher Thomas, T. & T. Clark Publishers.)
Frank R.
* * *
Philippians 2:5-11
There is a painting of Christ by Holman Hunt called Shadow of Death. The painting depicts Jesus standing inside his father’s carpenter shop in Nazareth. He has put his saw down and is stripped down to a cloth around his waist. Jesus, seemingly tired from a long day, stretches his arms above his head, casting a shadow onto the wall in the shape of a person being crucified. A long narrow tool rack hanging on the wall intersects perfectly with his shadow to complete the impression of a cross.
A woman in the foreground on the left-hand side, kneels among the woodchips, with her hands resting upon a chest. It seems to foreshadow Mary at Jesus’ cross.
This painting shows us in an artistic way what the Bible show us with words. The shadow of the cross was cast over Christ’s life from the beginning. His death lies at the heart of his story, and ours. Jesus “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.” (vs. 8) He did it for you and me. He died so that we wouldn’t have to. Truly, Jesus Christ is Lord!
Bill T.
* * *
Matthew 26:14--27:66 or Matthew 27:11-54
It is difficult, challenging, to consider again as we do every year what happened to Jesus and to recognize our role in putting Him on the cross. Martin Luther nicely explained why it is so difficult to rehearse this story in our hearts:
Our nature is opposed to the function of the power of Christ’s Passion... We must clearly transfer our sins from ourselves to Christ... Hence you must say: “I see my sin in Christ, therefore my sin is not mine but another’s. I see it in Christ. (Luther’s Works, Vol.17, p.223)
The story of the Passion puts a claim on us. It is as John Calvin once wrote:
This claims our attention, that every man, remembering his own weakness, may earnestly resort to the assistance of the Holy Spirit... (Calvin’s Commentaries, Vol.XVII, p.220)
Modern theologian Karl Barth nicely explains what we need in order to appreciate Passion Sunday and the stories of Christ’s suffering. We need wonder and astonishment, he claims. That we should be recipients of the grace and love of God, that despite our unworthiness Christ went through all He did for us, can only lead to wonder and amazement (Evangelical Theology, esp. 53ff.)!
Mark E.
* * *
Matthew 26:14--27:66
We, who are active in the church, hear this reading once a year. We marvel at the betrayal of friends, the desertion of friends, the fear and the courage in this reading. For me, it is more than that. As I invite people to eat the bread and drink the cup at the communion table, I remind them that Jesus served that first communion meal to the one who would betray him, the one who would deny him, and the ones who would desert him – and he did so freely and with love. If those friends, disciples who had been living and working with Jesus for three years, were welcome at the celebration of the sacrifice Jesus was about to make, so, my friends, are we welcomed. As I say those words, I envision those who have hurt, betrayed, deserted and denied me. I welcome them at the table as well – I struggle sometimes to love them, but I include them at the feast. Oh, if only we could all do that at places and at times other than the communion table!
Bonnie B.
* * *
Matthew 26:14-27:66 or Matthew 27:11-54
Why is this night different from all other nights?
Known as the “Ma Nishtana,” one of the cornerstones of the Passover Seder is the recitation of four questions, which begin, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Traditionally sung by the youngest child, the more cynically minded tend to assume the questions are meant to keep the children awake and paying attention during what is otherwise a long and boring liturgy (from a kid’s point of view, of course).
I won’t go into detail about the questions, except to mention the answer. The answer is the same to all four questions, i.e., “we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and the LORD, our God, brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm” (Deuteronomy 6:21).
Now, it is unlikely that Jesus would have ever recited “Ma Nishtana” since Mark 6:3 and Matthew 13:55-56 mention that he has siblings. Assuming that Mary was indeed a virgin when she conceived, Jesus was most likely the oldest in the family.
Still, I mention “the four questions” because I think it is important that the Last Supper was a Passover Seder. According to the order of the liturgy, “Ma Nishtana” would have been asked before Jesus and his disciples began to eat; but when I imagine the Last Supper, I picture the youngest child humming to himself, singing under his breath, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
Imagine, once that little tune escapes the child’s mouth: “Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom’” (Matthew 26:26-29)
At that moment, for the first time, there was a new answer to the question, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
M T.
