The Fickle Crowd
Children's sermon
Illustration
Preaching
Sermon
Worship
Object:
During presidential campaigns, it is customary to introduce presidential candidates with "Hail to the Chief" or some other fanfare. However, after elections pass and presidents are elected, the fanfare and excitement fade into memory. Often we then criticize that same person we so passionately supported earlier. As Jesus entered triumphant into Jerusalem, not with banners and expensive escorts, but with palm trees and a donkey, hailed one minute then derided the next, is there a parallel? Paul Bresnahan provides the main article this week, with Scott Suskovic writing the response. Illustrations, a liturgy, and a children's sermon are also provided.
The Fickle Crowd
Paul Bresnahan
Matthew 21:1-11
Ever since I was a child, I remember politicians renting abandoned storefronts in shabby parts of town. Then there were the speeches, the promises, the excitement, the banners, and the cheers. After the election, the signs came down and the shabby storefronts returned downtown to abandonment. Those of us who lived in that tired old working-class town wondered aloud about the promises.
Thus the presidents, senators, and congressmen come and go. Some have done better than others, and some a little worse. Essentially my life is still about the same. This year the electorate is much more excited about the current crop of candidates. Hopes and expectations seem higher and even young people and new voters are flocking to the polls.
With Jesus, there is a similar pattern in a way. They called him a "king" when he rode triumphant into Jerusalem. Incongruously, though, he rode on a donkey and not in a conveyance that matched the dignity of a "king." He was hailed with "Hosannas" much like crowds chant "Yes, we can" or "Yes, she will." Then only days later he went to his cross with the same crowd insisting; "Crucify him!"
We cannot help but wonder about this fickle crowd. However, the kings and presidents of history have never changed our lives like the king that rode into Jerusalem. As we come to Palm Sunday and Holy Week, let us also consider why this king is so different.
THE WORD
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
-- Zechariah 9:9b
The scripture is full of antithesis. On the one hand we have Jesus the King of kings. One the other, we have a humble slave obedient even unto death; one riding humbly into Jerusalem on a donkey. He is acclaimed with "Hosannas," and yet only a few days later he is condemned by the same crowd with the words "Crucify him, crucify him."
In the Isaiah lesson today we see a teacher who can comfort the afflicted with a well-placed word, while he himself is to horrible abuse, and still maintains a stalwart faith knowing that God will deliver and sustain him.
In Philippians the theme is continued; here Jesus finds himself in the form of God and yet "empties himself" taking on the form of a slave. Then the name by which he will be known is a name that becomes a name above all others, a name by which every knee in heaven and earth shall bow.
The passion narrative takes the conflict all the way to the excruciating conclusion where the innocent man of peace, he who loved his own, loved them even unto the end, including those who died with him on crosses on one side and also on the other. He even loved those who placed him there on the cross.
Thus our faith is born out of the crucible of conflict; it finds itself incongruously side by side with vulnerability of humankind and the power of God.
Still I find myself drawn to my faith and to the very center of the cross itself. It is as though the scripture were absolutely right, that when Jesus was lifted up he would draw the whole world to himself.
THE WORLD
We cannot help but notice the fickle nature of the general population. Fads do come and go in music, fashion, lifestyle, and even in our political life. One day there are cries of acclamation, another day there is a wholesale shunning of the same person. Sports figures and movie stars rise to lofty heights only to be brought low again as human frailty surfaces for even the most popular of the rich and famous. The latest to fall prey to human frailty appears to be no less than Eliot Spitzer, the governor of New York who has been thought to bring back a very high ethical standard to political life... now it appears he's fallen to the "oldest profession."
The dramatic developments of the Democratic primary between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton keep many on the edge as we await news of whether this race will gather steam and unite the party, or whether internecine squabbling will bring the efforts of the party to naught. All the cheers of all the partisans can so easily become jeers and so very quickly.
Roger Clements and Pete Rose had been held high in their respective sports endeavors and now the cloud of suspicion will hang over their achievements for a very long time indeed.
When we place folks on a pedestal, we either set them up as idols or we set them up for ignominious target practice. So it goes in the regular diet of popular life in America.
However, the same dynamic is there in faith as well as we note on the Sunday of the Passion in the church year. It is on the very same Sunday that Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph, only to find himself ultimately dying on the cross abandoned and alone except for the women who cared to stay to the very end.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It really should not come as any great surprise to us that our congregations are fertile ground for conflict. Look how the entire enterprise began! The King of kings riding on a donkey must, by necessity, raise a quixotic twist of the head for those of us who gather on Palm Sunday to hear the Passion narrative.
From the beginning we've fought for justice on behalf of the poor and the outcast, at least in our better moments. I'd rather fight for that than what congregations often fight for and about. So often our internal struggles are embarrassing family squabbles that end up putting our dirty laundry out in public for all to see.
We hunger for God. We thirst after righteousness. Forgiveness and reconciliation are the very names of our ministry and love is at the center of our godly mandate. Still so often, we find that far from living up to the high calling of our God's invitation, we so easily succumb to inane and internal struggles that sap our strength and leave us utterly exhausted and spiritually spent.
We do the same to our politicians. It is no wonder that my grandmother pleaded with her family at Thanksgiving and other high holy days when all the aunts and uncles gathered; "Please, lets don't talk about politics and religion this year!"... alas to no avail. There was always someone who picked a fight and always some eager to join in.
It is as though the very nature of human nature loves a good fight. But then something gets out of hand. It goes too far. Somebody will get hurt. Somebody will be misunderstood.
In the larger church, it will often be controversy over war and peace, sexual politics, faith and order, and who gets ordained. We play a whole range of inclusion/exclusion games as if we can play God with decisions of forgiveness and heaven... and who earns it and who doesn't.
We are told that the very first fight in the book of Acts was over circumcision. We had to decide immediately whether we had to require folks to become observant Jews before they became followers of "the Way." In our history we had to deal with slavery and freedom, race and gender and now so much of the church is struggling to understand how it is to play out its responsibility with regard to issues of orientation. So much of the struggle has always hinged on how to understand our holy writings, whether to take them literally or metaphorically. Then we've also had to come to terms with science and faith and its dynamic relationship with each other. We've finally come to terms with Galileo in most quarters, but Darwin remains a challenge to many.
It is into this world that Jesus rode his donkey into Jerusalem. He did so knowing that his face was set like a flint to face the love and adulation of the crowd that sang their hosannas. He also knew that they would insist on his crucifixion.
That is not the end of the story. What came to light was that this Jesus had a kind of power that politics, international diplomacy, and domestic and international monetary systems cannot even begin to understand. In fact, we still don't really always understand it. That's why we so often allow our discipleship to degenerate into meaningless infighting.
What Jesus did was to redefine the reality of life itself. He proclaimed a "good news" that transcended power and money and even human sexuality. He proclaimed good news to the poor, healing to the blind and the lame; he visited the prisoner in his distress and proclaimed release to the captive.
Jesus was very practical. For all the guilt-ridden masses of humanity, he brought forgiveness by paying the price of their sin. Done! For all those who face sickness unto death, he proclaimed the resurrection. His power is not of this world, and yet it is very much inextricably involved in every human struggle.
It amazes me that when we face the inevitability of human suffering and death itself, we find ourselves coming to life with the struggle to find justice and the healing salve of human love.
As the old hymn says;
Ride on, ride on in majesty,
In lowly pomp ride on to die!
-- Words by Henry H. Milman, Music by Lowell Mason
This remarkable song points to the center of a gospel that proclaims a king whose power is not "of" this world though it is very much "in" this world. Jesus has no power, no army, no money, and nothing glitzy to offer.
He can grant us the healing salve of forgiveness. He can show us the way to reconciliation. He will certainly challenge us to find the way toward justice and of course in our baptism he gives us eternal life
This king is different from all others. He offers something different. There are no empty promises with Jesus. Rather there is a proclamation with him that admires all of those who are poor, or who mourn, or who hunger and thirst for righteousness. He has a special place in his kingdom for those who suffer rejection and persecution... even if it is at the hand of "religious" folks. God knows Jesus sought them out when he walked about shores of Galilee.
Unlike the politicians of history, this king's promises are met. They meet on the cross for all to see... especially now that he is lifted up high on Calvary's hill. There he stands for all to see... for in his devotion and obedience to God he made love flesh and blood. It is a feast for all Christians... and everybody... I said everybody... is invited!
ANOTHER VIEW
How Quickly Things Change
Scott Suskovic
Assuming that many of our people don't actually attend Maundy Thursday and Good Friday worship services, Palm Sunday can actually be used as The Passion of the Christ Sunday in which the focus is not just on Palm Sunday but in fact the entire week. Playing off the primary article's notion of a fickle crowd, the preacher could use that same theme to walk the congregation through that final week in Jesus' life.
Matthew 21:1-9
How quickly things change! Three years of ministry culminate here in Jerusalem. It should be his greatest moment. In a sense, it is, but not in any way, shape, or form that his followers could have ever imagined.
They receive him as royalty into the holy city of Jerusalem, waving palm branches and singing, "Hosanna, Son of David." Then comes an abrupt switch. The joyous singing, chaotic festivities, and delightful confusion of that first Palm Sunday quickly turn into a solemn and cruel death march. The jubilant supporters are silent. The religious leaders concoct a sinister plot. The gallant disciples turn and flee.
How quickly things change! What began in the open daylight ends under the cloak of darkness. The mood quickly changes from the palm branches and triumphant shouts on Sunday to the cries of an angry crowd, thirsty for the blood of Jesus on Thursday. It begins with a kiss from Judas and crescendos to a kangaroo court with trumped up charges by false witnesses behind close doors.
Matthew 26:47-68
Wanting to silence Jesus forever but unable to legally put him to death, the Jewish leaders have to bring Jesus before Pilate. Pilate is a young man with big ambitions. He has been assigned to this godforsaken wasteland of the Roman Empire to earn his stripes. "Do well there." They promised, "Keep the Jews in line and you will be rewarded with a fat political appointment back in Rome." So he went, but Pilate hates it. He hates the desert. He hates the job. He hates the Jews because no other conquered people in the Roman Empire are allowed to continue practicing their religion except the Jews. They are stubborn, they are rebellious, and take their religion from them -- they get downright nasty. So Rome had adopted one exception just for them. It is Pilate's job to keep them in line. If they rebel, Pilate might as well kiss his political career good-bye.
Matthew 27:1-2, 11-14
Pilate is smart enough to know that the Sanhedrin are nothing more than jealous buzzards looking for a kill. But he also knows that this is a big deal, a potential riot, something that could work it way back to Rome and on to his resume. How can he keep the peace if this 30-year-old carpenter doesn't talk?
Ah, then this savvy politician remembers...
Matthew 27:15-23
On this evil night, how quickly things change. Pilate, the one man who has the authority to release or execute Jesus, really has no power at all. The chief priests, the ones who are supposed to uphold the moral and religious teachings and laws are trying to have an innocent man murdered. The people for whom Jesus came are yelling in a frenzy, "Kill him, crucify him, string him up." Even the name of the notorious prisoner, Barabbas, is ironic. Pilate gives them their choice between Jesus or Barabbas. Barabbas, a Hebrew name. "Bar" means "son" and "Abba" means "father." Get it? "Who shall I release, Jesus, the Son of the Father, or Barabbas, the son of the father?" They choose poorly and back Pilate further into a corner.
Matthew 27:24-26
To make it perfectly clear that he wants no part in their dirty business, Pilate takes out a large bowl and in a dramatic gesture that even the dullest of clods could understand, he steps up in front of the mob to wash his hands of the whole mess.
I suppose he had sensed that a larger riot was on his hands if he released this Jesus than if he just went ahead and acquiesced to their demands. So with a swish in the basin and the raising of his dripping hands, the execution will go forth against his advice and better judgment. Washing his hands is his way of being able to live with himself after sending an innocent man to his grave. I suppose he could do more -- a couple less whippings, fewer catcalls, even a kind word would have gone far. But he doesn't. He could. He should. But he doesn't. And because he doesn't, you can almost believe the sad legend that has circulated about Pilate's fate for all eternity. For legend has it that Pilate forever stands in a mountain lake, going through the motions of washing his hands over and over again not to cleanse himself for what he did, something for which God surely can forgive, but a desperate attempt to cleanse himself for what he did not do, something for which he could never forgive himself.
Matthew 27:27-31
It is nothing more than amusement to them, a sport to pass the time -- beating up on prisoners. These soldiers hate being in Judea almost as much as Pilate does. It isn't their culture, it isn't their people, and it isn't home. In the movie, Gladiator, the Roman soldier was asked how long he had been away from home. He knew. "This morning it was two years and 63 days." He knew. And he didn't like it. He didn't like being far away from home.
Neither do these soldiers. I suppose with a little mental gymnastic leap they could easily cast their blame and direct their anger at these Jews that they were sent so far away from home to guard. That fury strikes out often by whipping, stripping, and beating a man within an inch of his life -- for sport, for amusement, to pass the time. You know, nothing personal.
Who among us could would have the understanding, the compassion, or the nerve to say, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." I dare say, "Only one."
Matthew 27:32-44
Outside the city gates of Jerusalem there is a hill named Golgatha, shaped like a skull, which seems appropriate for a killing ground. It is a garbage heap, really, and the refuse cast away are criminals.
As part of the shame, prisoners have to carry their own cross through a parade in the streets with the details of their crimes written on a piece of board worn around their neck. Crucifixion is a public process not only meant to kill a person but to shame the prisoner and to deter any other would-be insurrectionists.
Crucifixion was a favorite method of execution by Rome. Emperor Tiberius preferred crucifixion precisely because it prolonged the victim's life and thus his agony. He believed that death was an escape, death brought relief, therefore, death was not a punishment. But the process of crucifixion was. In fact, by this time, historians tell us that Rome had already crucified more than 30,000 victims around Judea. Crosses and tortured bodies were a common sight around Jerusalem and a constant reminder of Rome's brutality.
Matthew 27:45-50
It's dark now, in more ways than one -- though only three o'clock in the afternoon. And in that darkness, Jesus cries out, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!" My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me? It was an outcry not from the pain, but from his soul. The physical pains of crucifixion were bad enough, but they were nothing compared to the wrath that Jesus experienced.
In that sacred hour, in some mysterious way, it is as if the Father indeed forsakes and abandons him for at that moment he pours out upon his Son the full measure and weight of our sins... of my sins. If you think of Jesus as a great teacher and a compassionate healer who sole job was to teach us to love each other, you don't understand what was happening there on the cross.
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani." These are the final words of Jesus before he dies. One last message from his lips. And the people still don't get it. That's the tragedy. They misunderstand his words. They hear the word, "Eli," and instead of understanding the Hebrew, "My God" they think it is Greek for Elijah. They think that with his dying breath he is trying to summon up the dead. So, in some sadistic act, they give him something to drink to keep him alive a couple moments longer more to see if anything might happen. The only thing they witness, however, is the death of an innocent and sadly misunderstood man.
Matthew 27:51, 54
The Holy of Holies was the center of the temple in which the Ark of the Covenant housing the Ten Commandments was kept. God is present everywhere, to be sure, but God is intensely present in the Holy of Holies. Only the high priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies and then only once a year. A large curtain separated it from the people in the rest of the temple.
With Jesus' death, the curtain is torn in two, revealing the Holy of Holies, revealing God's presence, making himself known to all. But the curtain is not torn from the bottom to the top as if humanity took hold of it, ripped it, and stormed heaven. It was torn how? From the top to the bottom. God is tearing down the curtain, stripping away the boundaries, casting off the cloak to reveal himself and make himself accessible to all people. The irony is that it is a centurion -- not a disciple, not a priest, but a Roman soldier, a pagan -- who notices and says, "Truly, this was the Son of God."
It's a tragic comedy. During his life, no one gets it. No one. Not those who followed him for three years, not those whom he healed, not the religious leaders. No one. Even his last words on a cross are mistaken for some new age sÈance to summon the dead. Why?
Because it is not through his teaching that you will know him. It's not through his miracles that you will know him. It's not through his kind acts that you will know him. How will you know him? How is the only way to know Jesus, to really know Jesus? By standing in the shadow of the cross next to this pagan and know and believe that it should have been me up there. It should have been you up there. Instead, God said, "You are going to hell... over my dead body."
Only through the shadow of the cross can you truly confess, "Truly this man is the Son of God."
ILLUSTRATIONS
Just who are those people who come out to see Jesus, as he triumphantly enters Jerusalem?
Some of them are true believers, hailing the carpenter from Nazareth for religious or political reasons, or both.
Others are passersby, caught up in the excitement -- "Who's this character coming down the street? You say he's against the Romans? Well, then, I'm for him!"
Perhaps the largest contingent lining the streets that day are there for another motive -- for a motive best described by Winston Churchill. Once, after giving a speech to 10,000 people, a friend asked him, "Winston, aren't you impressed that 10,000 people came to hear you speak?"
Churchill replied, "Not really. A hundred thousand would come to see me hang."
It's kind of like the people who stand there watching a desperate person perched on a rooftop, or atop the railing of a bridge. "Jump!" they cry. They have no personal animosity toward the poor, despairing person. They don't even know the person. They merely crave the vicarious excitement that would come of watching such a tragedy.
Surely there are some palm-wavers -- possibly a great number of them -- who have come out for no other reason than because Jesus is a celebrity. They just want to see him: to bask, for a brief moment, in his notoriety. Whatever happens next -- whether Jesus triumphs or whether he dies -- is of little import. Just so they have seen him...
* * *
So, what's the meaning of the palms, held aloft by the Jerusalem crowd?
During the Maccabean revolt a century before, the Jews had driven their Greek rulers out of Jerusalem. During the brief period of self-government that followed, the Maccabeans minted a victory coin, with palm branches on it.
Yet, their triumph was short-lived. The Romans soon replaced the Greeks, obliterating all hope of Jewish independence. The Romans eventually minted their own victory coin: on it was the image of a Jewish slave, kneeling before a Roman soldier. Across the top of the coin was a broken palm branch.
To the Jerusalem crowd, the palms are no benign symbol of rejoicing. They are a political provocation. We have no comparable symbol in our country, but if you can imagine the United States under the domination of a foreign power, and what it might mean to display the American flag in such circumstances, you might have some idea.
Many people today enjoy hearing the bagpipes (preferably outdoors!). Did you know that in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Scotland, the English rulers banned the bagpipes as an instrument of war? Yes, an instrument of war. The original Highland pipers charged right into battle with their fellow-soldiers. The "skirl o' the pipes," sounding over the smoke and tumult of battle, was a kind of psychological warfare, certain to strike terror into the hearts of enemies. That's why the English made it illegal for Scots even to own them.
The Romans surely felt the same way about palm branches in the hands of a jubilant Jewish crowd.
* * *
"He's coming!" says one to the other. "That's got to be him."
Sure enough, a commotion is brewing, way down the parade route. You can hear the cheers -- faint at first, now rolling forward like some unstoppable wave. Everyone's leaning forward, craning their necks, hoping to be the first to see him.
It's been a long wait, for the true believers. They arrived early, at the side of the road, to stake out the best vantage points. Now, their forethought is about to pay off. Why, they'll be almost close enough to touch him!
Things are happening fast, now. Coming around the corner, could it be? Yes! It's him. The crowds are going wild. Pandemonium!
The limousine glides to a stop. The doorman scurries over to open the passenger door. Camera strobes are flashing, people are cheering, police officers hold the crowds back. A shiny black shoe emerges from the open door... then a tuxedo-clad leg... and suddenly, there he is!
Turning to wave to the crowd, he flashes that trademark toothy grin. It's him, all right. It's.... Jack Nicholson!
That was the scene just a few weeks ago, in Los Angeles: the annual awards ceremony of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (better known as "the Oscars"). Countless Americans stayed up late, their faces lit by the glow of their TV screens, waiting for the words, "May I have the envelope, please?"
There are some who claim that movie stars are the closest thing our country has to royalty. If that's true, then the red-carpeted sidewalk may be America's avenue of coronations. Ever since the days of Gable and Monroe, of Bogart and Bergman, movie stars have alighted from their limousines outside the appointed place to receive from their followers something very much resembling worship.
* * *
What do we most need to see and understand during this Holy Week? We need to see and understand and know, with all our hearts and souls and minds, that it was Jesus' great love for each of us that led him to go through all of this week's events -- his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, the trials with their whippings and scourgings, and finally his crucifixion on Mount Calvary.
The following prayer was found among Martin Luther's letters:
May our dear Lord Jesus Christ show you his hands and his side and gladden your heart with his love, and may you behold and hear only him until you find your joy in him. Amen.
Martin Luther, Daily Readings from Luther's Writings, ed. by Barbara Olsen (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg, 1993), p. 108
* * *
What could we say is the main content of the Christian message? We can say that the Lord God of all creation is searching for each of us, to establish a relationship with us.
And that we can have a relationship with God only if God descends and gives himself to us.
John wrote: In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins (1 John 4:10).
There is for [us] no way to God except the way of God's self-giving love at the cross.
Gustaf Aulen, The Faith of the Christian Church (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Fortress Press, 1973), pp. 110-114
* * *
What happens down there at the foot of the path of real guilt, at the bottom of human despair of self, at the foot of the cross? The apostle writers call it a dying-to-self and a passing from death to life. Kierkegaard also called it dying to self, followed by the leap of faith in the Christ of the cross. And then? Kierkegaard is at a loss to describe the miracle. In his book, Fear and Trembling, he writes:
The dialectic of faith is the most delicate and the most extraordinary of all; it has an elevation of which I can certainly form a conception, but no more than that. I can make the mighty trampoline leap whereby I cross over into infinity; my back is like a tightrope dancer's, twisted in my childhood, and therefore it is easy for me. One, two, three -- I can walk upside down in existence, but I cannot make the next movement, for the miraculous I cannot do -- I can only be amazed at it!
Edna Hong, The Downward Ascent (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg, 1979), p. 76
* * *
Sometimes the problem with leadership is seen in the judgment of whom you listen to for advice. In 1 Kings 12:1-19, the issue of succession after Solomon arose. Rehoboam was the one to succeed Solomon and the issue was how he would rule over the people. His older advisors suggested that "if you will be a servant to this people today and serve them, and speak good words to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants forever." Then Rehoboam turned to his younger advisors who had grown up with him and they advised him to say, "My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions." When he chose the harsh way of governing, the people of God were split into two nations.
* * *
Sometimes the problem with choosing a leader is that we have too narrow a perspective in making our choice and we think that our world represents the whole world. How does a politician tell the truth and still get elected?
A frog had lived all his life in a well. One day he was surprised to see another frog there. "Where have you come from?" he asked.
"From the sea. That's where I live," said the other.
"What's the sea like? Is it as big as my well?"
The frog laughed. "There's no comparison," he said.
The well frog pretended to be interested in what his visitor had to say about the sea. But he thought, "Of all the liars I have known in my lifetime, this one is undoubtedly the greatest -- and the most shameless!"
How does one speak of the ocean to a frog in a well, or of reality to the ideologue?
-- Anthony de Mello, Taking Flight (New York: Doubleday, 1988)
* * *
Authority and truth are not always apparent to the observer. The gospel of John loves to convey the truth through irony. It is never clearer than in John's description of the passion. When Jesus was before Pilate, Pilate asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" (18:33). After a discussion Pilate said, "So you are a king?" (18:37). Kings have the power to release prisoners and it was the result of Jesus that Barabbas was set free. The soldiers thought they were mocking Jesus when they placed a crown of thorns on his head and dressed him in a purple robe. They then kept saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" (19:3). Pilate then presented Jesus before the crowd wearing the crown and purple robe (19:5). Later Pilate said to Jesus, "Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?" (19:10). But Jesus responded by clarifying from where true power comes. Then when Pilate had him crucified, he placed a sign over the cross that read: "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews" (19:19). In each of these examples, the truth was stated by people who thought they were mocking Jesus. While the gospel of Luke quotes Jesus as saying that if people are silent, the stones will cry out (Luke 19:40), John shows how people speak the truth even when they don't think that is what they are doing. God is not without a witness.
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Call to Worship
Leader: This is the day to remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem:
People: The day to remember the glad shouts of the people...
Leader: The day to remember those who inflicted the pain...
People: The day to remember those who partook of the burdens...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like the chief priests, betray the Lord by stealth...
People: The day to remember that we, like the woman with the ointment, owe the Lord our best...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like Judas, sell the Lord for silver...
People: The day to remember that we, like Pilate, reject conscience for the crowd...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like Simon of Cyrene, can bear the Savior's cross...
People: The day to remember that we, like Jesus, must die to self to live for God.
Leader: Let us sing Hosanna to the son of David!
Call to Reconciliation
If we propose to join the disciples as they mark Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, we ought also to have the humility to join them in admitting that, ere the week is over, we too will fall away and abandon Jesus to face alone his torment and passion. Be reminded that none of them, nor any of us, stood finally at his side; and raise your voice with mine in confession of our failing.
-- Don C. Skinner, Prayers for the Gathered Community: Resources for the Liturgical Year (United Church Press, 1997), p. 89
Unison Prayer of Confession
O Lord, whose victory in Jerusalem
was suddenly transformed into the agony of Calvary:
deliver us from the temptation to turn your passion
into a pious parade.
Forgive us for the times when we seek glory for ourselves,
and fail to give glory to you.
Save us from unrighteous anger,
from greed,
from harmful words and impure thoughts.
Forgive us for looking only to ourselves,
and not to the interests of others.
Remind us of how you spurned the offer of a royal crown
to shoulder a criminal's cross;
and help us to know, with deep gratitude,
that your saving death was for us. Amen.
Prayer For the Day
Holy Jesus, every day
Keep us in the narrow way;
And, when earthly things are past,
Bring our ransomed souls at last
Where they need no star to guide,
Where no clouds thy glory hide. Amen.
-- From the hymn, "As With Gladness Men of Old," text by William Chatterton Dix, 1858
Responsive Charge
Leader: The cross,
People: we shall take it;
Leader: the bread,
People: we shall break it;
Leader: the pain,
People: we shall bear it;
Leader: the joy,
People: we shall share it;
Leader: the gospel,
People: we shall live it;
Leader: the love,
People: we shall give it;
Leader: the light,
People: we shall cherish it;
Leader: the darkness,
People: God shall perish it. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
What's in a box?
Object: a plain cardboard box wrapped beautifully
Philippians 2:5-11
... who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. (vv. 6-7)
Good morning, boys and girls. If you were God, what do you think you would want to look like? (let them answer) Would you like to be tall, handsome, or beautiful, with great looking muscles or a pretty figure? What kind of clothes would you wear? (let them answer)
I want to tell you a short story. Most of the time when I receive a gift it comes in a beautifully wrapped package. I don't know what is inside the package but I know it is special because of the wrapping and the bows. I love beautiful-looking gifts but what I really want to know is what is inside the package.
In a matter of seconds I take off the wrapping paper and I come to a plain old cardboard box. (unwrap the cardboard box) I open the box and inside of the box is the gift. It could be a television or a shirt. It could be a computer or a new coat. I thank the person that gave it to me and I hook it up or try it on.
But what happens to the empty box? Sometimes I put it in the garage or take it to the basement and put it on a shelf. Sometimes I think this is just the right box for me to pack my books or some clothes that I want to take on vacation. Many times I use the box in my workshop. The gift that I received is used once in a while, but the box keeps on working. Many times I have the box longer than I do the gift that came in it. The box becomes very important to me.
God came to us as a gift in the form of Jesus. Most of you would compare Jesus to the precious and beautiful gift that comes in a box. Jesus would then be like the television or computer. He could be a coat, a shirt, or a hat. But that is not the way the gift was given. Jesus is the box, the empty box. He did not come to live like a god with super power that would make it rain on certain days, grow food in the desert, or make playgrounds out of the oceans. Jesus came like you and me and grew up in the world just like us. He worked hard like your father and mother. Jesus lived like every other man. His feet got dirty, he hurt when he fell down, he liked a good joke, and he enjoyed eating fish and bread. Jesus was like the empty box. He was here for everyone -- not just for the rich and powerful but also for the beggar and the blind person. Jesus was one of us when he lived on earth. The big difference is that he did not just die, but he died for us.
The next time you see an empty box I want you to think about how Jesus was one of us and how he was used to bring us eternal life. Amen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, March 16, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
The Fickle Crowd
Paul Bresnahan
Matthew 21:1-11
Ever since I was a child, I remember politicians renting abandoned storefronts in shabby parts of town. Then there were the speeches, the promises, the excitement, the banners, and the cheers. After the election, the signs came down and the shabby storefronts returned downtown to abandonment. Those of us who lived in that tired old working-class town wondered aloud about the promises.
Thus the presidents, senators, and congressmen come and go. Some have done better than others, and some a little worse. Essentially my life is still about the same. This year the electorate is much more excited about the current crop of candidates. Hopes and expectations seem higher and even young people and new voters are flocking to the polls.
With Jesus, there is a similar pattern in a way. They called him a "king" when he rode triumphant into Jerusalem. Incongruously, though, he rode on a donkey and not in a conveyance that matched the dignity of a "king." He was hailed with "Hosannas" much like crowds chant "Yes, we can" or "Yes, she will." Then only days later he went to his cross with the same crowd insisting; "Crucify him!"
We cannot help but wonder about this fickle crowd. However, the kings and presidents of history have never changed our lives like the king that rode into Jerusalem. As we come to Palm Sunday and Holy Week, let us also consider why this king is so different.
THE WORD
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
-- Zechariah 9:9b
The scripture is full of antithesis. On the one hand we have Jesus the King of kings. One the other, we have a humble slave obedient even unto death; one riding humbly into Jerusalem on a donkey. He is acclaimed with "Hosannas," and yet only a few days later he is condemned by the same crowd with the words "Crucify him, crucify him."
In the Isaiah lesson today we see a teacher who can comfort the afflicted with a well-placed word, while he himself is to horrible abuse, and still maintains a stalwart faith knowing that God will deliver and sustain him.
In Philippians the theme is continued; here Jesus finds himself in the form of God and yet "empties himself" taking on the form of a slave. Then the name by which he will be known is a name that becomes a name above all others, a name by which every knee in heaven and earth shall bow.
The passion narrative takes the conflict all the way to the excruciating conclusion where the innocent man of peace, he who loved his own, loved them even unto the end, including those who died with him on crosses on one side and also on the other. He even loved those who placed him there on the cross.
Thus our faith is born out of the crucible of conflict; it finds itself incongruously side by side with vulnerability of humankind and the power of God.
Still I find myself drawn to my faith and to the very center of the cross itself. It is as though the scripture were absolutely right, that when Jesus was lifted up he would draw the whole world to himself.
THE WORLD
We cannot help but notice the fickle nature of the general population. Fads do come and go in music, fashion, lifestyle, and even in our political life. One day there are cries of acclamation, another day there is a wholesale shunning of the same person. Sports figures and movie stars rise to lofty heights only to be brought low again as human frailty surfaces for even the most popular of the rich and famous. The latest to fall prey to human frailty appears to be no less than Eliot Spitzer, the governor of New York who has been thought to bring back a very high ethical standard to political life... now it appears he's fallen to the "oldest profession."
The dramatic developments of the Democratic primary between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton keep many on the edge as we await news of whether this race will gather steam and unite the party, or whether internecine squabbling will bring the efforts of the party to naught. All the cheers of all the partisans can so easily become jeers and so very quickly.
Roger Clements and Pete Rose had been held high in their respective sports endeavors and now the cloud of suspicion will hang over their achievements for a very long time indeed.
When we place folks on a pedestal, we either set them up as idols or we set them up for ignominious target practice. So it goes in the regular diet of popular life in America.
However, the same dynamic is there in faith as well as we note on the Sunday of the Passion in the church year. It is on the very same Sunday that Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph, only to find himself ultimately dying on the cross abandoned and alone except for the women who cared to stay to the very end.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
It really should not come as any great surprise to us that our congregations are fertile ground for conflict. Look how the entire enterprise began! The King of kings riding on a donkey must, by necessity, raise a quixotic twist of the head for those of us who gather on Palm Sunday to hear the Passion narrative.
From the beginning we've fought for justice on behalf of the poor and the outcast, at least in our better moments. I'd rather fight for that than what congregations often fight for and about. So often our internal struggles are embarrassing family squabbles that end up putting our dirty laundry out in public for all to see.
We hunger for God. We thirst after righteousness. Forgiveness and reconciliation are the very names of our ministry and love is at the center of our godly mandate. Still so often, we find that far from living up to the high calling of our God's invitation, we so easily succumb to inane and internal struggles that sap our strength and leave us utterly exhausted and spiritually spent.
We do the same to our politicians. It is no wonder that my grandmother pleaded with her family at Thanksgiving and other high holy days when all the aunts and uncles gathered; "Please, lets don't talk about politics and religion this year!"... alas to no avail. There was always someone who picked a fight and always some eager to join in.
It is as though the very nature of human nature loves a good fight. But then something gets out of hand. It goes too far. Somebody will get hurt. Somebody will be misunderstood.
In the larger church, it will often be controversy over war and peace, sexual politics, faith and order, and who gets ordained. We play a whole range of inclusion/exclusion games as if we can play God with decisions of forgiveness and heaven... and who earns it and who doesn't.
We are told that the very first fight in the book of Acts was over circumcision. We had to decide immediately whether we had to require folks to become observant Jews before they became followers of "the Way." In our history we had to deal with slavery and freedom, race and gender and now so much of the church is struggling to understand how it is to play out its responsibility with regard to issues of orientation. So much of the struggle has always hinged on how to understand our holy writings, whether to take them literally or metaphorically. Then we've also had to come to terms with science and faith and its dynamic relationship with each other. We've finally come to terms with Galileo in most quarters, but Darwin remains a challenge to many.
It is into this world that Jesus rode his donkey into Jerusalem. He did so knowing that his face was set like a flint to face the love and adulation of the crowd that sang their hosannas. He also knew that they would insist on his crucifixion.
That is not the end of the story. What came to light was that this Jesus had a kind of power that politics, international diplomacy, and domestic and international monetary systems cannot even begin to understand. In fact, we still don't really always understand it. That's why we so often allow our discipleship to degenerate into meaningless infighting.
What Jesus did was to redefine the reality of life itself. He proclaimed a "good news" that transcended power and money and even human sexuality. He proclaimed good news to the poor, healing to the blind and the lame; he visited the prisoner in his distress and proclaimed release to the captive.
Jesus was very practical. For all the guilt-ridden masses of humanity, he brought forgiveness by paying the price of their sin. Done! For all those who face sickness unto death, he proclaimed the resurrection. His power is not of this world, and yet it is very much inextricably involved in every human struggle.
It amazes me that when we face the inevitability of human suffering and death itself, we find ourselves coming to life with the struggle to find justice and the healing salve of human love.
As the old hymn says;
Ride on, ride on in majesty,
In lowly pomp ride on to die!
-- Words by Henry H. Milman, Music by Lowell Mason
This remarkable song points to the center of a gospel that proclaims a king whose power is not "of" this world though it is very much "in" this world. Jesus has no power, no army, no money, and nothing glitzy to offer.
He can grant us the healing salve of forgiveness. He can show us the way to reconciliation. He will certainly challenge us to find the way toward justice and of course in our baptism he gives us eternal life
This king is different from all others. He offers something different. There are no empty promises with Jesus. Rather there is a proclamation with him that admires all of those who are poor, or who mourn, or who hunger and thirst for righteousness. He has a special place in his kingdom for those who suffer rejection and persecution... even if it is at the hand of "religious" folks. God knows Jesus sought them out when he walked about shores of Galilee.
Unlike the politicians of history, this king's promises are met. They meet on the cross for all to see... especially now that he is lifted up high on Calvary's hill. There he stands for all to see... for in his devotion and obedience to God he made love flesh and blood. It is a feast for all Christians... and everybody... I said everybody... is invited!
ANOTHER VIEW
How Quickly Things Change
Scott Suskovic
Assuming that many of our people don't actually attend Maundy Thursday and Good Friday worship services, Palm Sunday can actually be used as The Passion of the Christ Sunday in which the focus is not just on Palm Sunday but in fact the entire week. Playing off the primary article's notion of a fickle crowd, the preacher could use that same theme to walk the congregation through that final week in Jesus' life.
Matthew 21:1-9
How quickly things change! Three years of ministry culminate here in Jerusalem. It should be his greatest moment. In a sense, it is, but not in any way, shape, or form that his followers could have ever imagined.
They receive him as royalty into the holy city of Jerusalem, waving palm branches and singing, "Hosanna, Son of David." Then comes an abrupt switch. The joyous singing, chaotic festivities, and delightful confusion of that first Palm Sunday quickly turn into a solemn and cruel death march. The jubilant supporters are silent. The religious leaders concoct a sinister plot. The gallant disciples turn and flee.
How quickly things change! What began in the open daylight ends under the cloak of darkness. The mood quickly changes from the palm branches and triumphant shouts on Sunday to the cries of an angry crowd, thirsty for the blood of Jesus on Thursday. It begins with a kiss from Judas and crescendos to a kangaroo court with trumped up charges by false witnesses behind close doors.
Matthew 26:47-68
Wanting to silence Jesus forever but unable to legally put him to death, the Jewish leaders have to bring Jesus before Pilate. Pilate is a young man with big ambitions. He has been assigned to this godforsaken wasteland of the Roman Empire to earn his stripes. "Do well there." They promised, "Keep the Jews in line and you will be rewarded with a fat political appointment back in Rome." So he went, but Pilate hates it. He hates the desert. He hates the job. He hates the Jews because no other conquered people in the Roman Empire are allowed to continue practicing their religion except the Jews. They are stubborn, they are rebellious, and take their religion from them -- they get downright nasty. So Rome had adopted one exception just for them. It is Pilate's job to keep them in line. If they rebel, Pilate might as well kiss his political career good-bye.
Matthew 27:1-2, 11-14
Pilate is smart enough to know that the Sanhedrin are nothing more than jealous buzzards looking for a kill. But he also knows that this is a big deal, a potential riot, something that could work it way back to Rome and on to his resume. How can he keep the peace if this 30-year-old carpenter doesn't talk?
Ah, then this savvy politician remembers...
Matthew 27:15-23
On this evil night, how quickly things change. Pilate, the one man who has the authority to release or execute Jesus, really has no power at all. The chief priests, the ones who are supposed to uphold the moral and religious teachings and laws are trying to have an innocent man murdered. The people for whom Jesus came are yelling in a frenzy, "Kill him, crucify him, string him up." Even the name of the notorious prisoner, Barabbas, is ironic. Pilate gives them their choice between Jesus or Barabbas. Barabbas, a Hebrew name. "Bar" means "son" and "Abba" means "father." Get it? "Who shall I release, Jesus, the Son of the Father, or Barabbas, the son of the father?" They choose poorly and back Pilate further into a corner.
Matthew 27:24-26
To make it perfectly clear that he wants no part in their dirty business, Pilate takes out a large bowl and in a dramatic gesture that even the dullest of clods could understand, he steps up in front of the mob to wash his hands of the whole mess.
I suppose he had sensed that a larger riot was on his hands if he released this Jesus than if he just went ahead and acquiesced to their demands. So with a swish in the basin and the raising of his dripping hands, the execution will go forth against his advice and better judgment. Washing his hands is his way of being able to live with himself after sending an innocent man to his grave. I suppose he could do more -- a couple less whippings, fewer catcalls, even a kind word would have gone far. But he doesn't. He could. He should. But he doesn't. And because he doesn't, you can almost believe the sad legend that has circulated about Pilate's fate for all eternity. For legend has it that Pilate forever stands in a mountain lake, going through the motions of washing his hands over and over again not to cleanse himself for what he did, something for which God surely can forgive, but a desperate attempt to cleanse himself for what he did not do, something for which he could never forgive himself.
Matthew 27:27-31
It is nothing more than amusement to them, a sport to pass the time -- beating up on prisoners. These soldiers hate being in Judea almost as much as Pilate does. It isn't their culture, it isn't their people, and it isn't home. In the movie, Gladiator, the Roman soldier was asked how long he had been away from home. He knew. "This morning it was two years and 63 days." He knew. And he didn't like it. He didn't like being far away from home.
Neither do these soldiers. I suppose with a little mental gymnastic leap they could easily cast their blame and direct their anger at these Jews that they were sent so far away from home to guard. That fury strikes out often by whipping, stripping, and beating a man within an inch of his life -- for sport, for amusement, to pass the time. You know, nothing personal.
Who among us could would have the understanding, the compassion, or the nerve to say, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." I dare say, "Only one."
Matthew 27:32-44
Outside the city gates of Jerusalem there is a hill named Golgatha, shaped like a skull, which seems appropriate for a killing ground. It is a garbage heap, really, and the refuse cast away are criminals.
As part of the shame, prisoners have to carry their own cross through a parade in the streets with the details of their crimes written on a piece of board worn around their neck. Crucifixion is a public process not only meant to kill a person but to shame the prisoner and to deter any other would-be insurrectionists.
Crucifixion was a favorite method of execution by Rome. Emperor Tiberius preferred crucifixion precisely because it prolonged the victim's life and thus his agony. He believed that death was an escape, death brought relief, therefore, death was not a punishment. But the process of crucifixion was. In fact, by this time, historians tell us that Rome had already crucified more than 30,000 victims around Judea. Crosses and tortured bodies were a common sight around Jerusalem and a constant reminder of Rome's brutality.
Matthew 27:45-50
It's dark now, in more ways than one -- though only three o'clock in the afternoon. And in that darkness, Jesus cries out, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!" My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me? It was an outcry not from the pain, but from his soul. The physical pains of crucifixion were bad enough, but they were nothing compared to the wrath that Jesus experienced.
In that sacred hour, in some mysterious way, it is as if the Father indeed forsakes and abandons him for at that moment he pours out upon his Son the full measure and weight of our sins... of my sins. If you think of Jesus as a great teacher and a compassionate healer who sole job was to teach us to love each other, you don't understand what was happening there on the cross.
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani." These are the final words of Jesus before he dies. One last message from his lips. And the people still don't get it. That's the tragedy. They misunderstand his words. They hear the word, "Eli," and instead of understanding the Hebrew, "My God" they think it is Greek for Elijah. They think that with his dying breath he is trying to summon up the dead. So, in some sadistic act, they give him something to drink to keep him alive a couple moments longer more to see if anything might happen. The only thing they witness, however, is the death of an innocent and sadly misunderstood man.
Matthew 27:51, 54
The Holy of Holies was the center of the temple in which the Ark of the Covenant housing the Ten Commandments was kept. God is present everywhere, to be sure, but God is intensely present in the Holy of Holies. Only the high priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies and then only once a year. A large curtain separated it from the people in the rest of the temple.
With Jesus' death, the curtain is torn in two, revealing the Holy of Holies, revealing God's presence, making himself known to all. But the curtain is not torn from the bottom to the top as if humanity took hold of it, ripped it, and stormed heaven. It was torn how? From the top to the bottom. God is tearing down the curtain, stripping away the boundaries, casting off the cloak to reveal himself and make himself accessible to all people. The irony is that it is a centurion -- not a disciple, not a priest, but a Roman soldier, a pagan -- who notices and says, "Truly, this was the Son of God."
It's a tragic comedy. During his life, no one gets it. No one. Not those who followed him for three years, not those whom he healed, not the religious leaders. No one. Even his last words on a cross are mistaken for some new age sÈance to summon the dead. Why?
Because it is not through his teaching that you will know him. It's not through his miracles that you will know him. It's not through his kind acts that you will know him. How will you know him? How is the only way to know Jesus, to really know Jesus? By standing in the shadow of the cross next to this pagan and know and believe that it should have been me up there. It should have been you up there. Instead, God said, "You are going to hell... over my dead body."
Only through the shadow of the cross can you truly confess, "Truly this man is the Son of God."
ILLUSTRATIONS
Just who are those people who come out to see Jesus, as he triumphantly enters Jerusalem?
Some of them are true believers, hailing the carpenter from Nazareth for religious or political reasons, or both.
Others are passersby, caught up in the excitement -- "Who's this character coming down the street? You say he's against the Romans? Well, then, I'm for him!"
Perhaps the largest contingent lining the streets that day are there for another motive -- for a motive best described by Winston Churchill. Once, after giving a speech to 10,000 people, a friend asked him, "Winston, aren't you impressed that 10,000 people came to hear you speak?"
Churchill replied, "Not really. A hundred thousand would come to see me hang."
It's kind of like the people who stand there watching a desperate person perched on a rooftop, or atop the railing of a bridge. "Jump!" they cry. They have no personal animosity toward the poor, despairing person. They don't even know the person. They merely crave the vicarious excitement that would come of watching such a tragedy.
Surely there are some palm-wavers -- possibly a great number of them -- who have come out for no other reason than because Jesus is a celebrity. They just want to see him: to bask, for a brief moment, in his notoriety. Whatever happens next -- whether Jesus triumphs or whether he dies -- is of little import. Just so they have seen him...
* * *
So, what's the meaning of the palms, held aloft by the Jerusalem crowd?
During the Maccabean revolt a century before, the Jews had driven their Greek rulers out of Jerusalem. During the brief period of self-government that followed, the Maccabeans minted a victory coin, with palm branches on it.
Yet, their triumph was short-lived. The Romans soon replaced the Greeks, obliterating all hope of Jewish independence. The Romans eventually minted their own victory coin: on it was the image of a Jewish slave, kneeling before a Roman soldier. Across the top of the coin was a broken palm branch.
To the Jerusalem crowd, the palms are no benign symbol of rejoicing. They are a political provocation. We have no comparable symbol in our country, but if you can imagine the United States under the domination of a foreign power, and what it might mean to display the American flag in such circumstances, you might have some idea.
Many people today enjoy hearing the bagpipes (preferably outdoors!). Did you know that in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Scotland, the English rulers banned the bagpipes as an instrument of war? Yes, an instrument of war. The original Highland pipers charged right into battle with their fellow-soldiers. The "skirl o' the pipes," sounding over the smoke and tumult of battle, was a kind of psychological warfare, certain to strike terror into the hearts of enemies. That's why the English made it illegal for Scots even to own them.
The Romans surely felt the same way about palm branches in the hands of a jubilant Jewish crowd.
* * *
"He's coming!" says one to the other. "That's got to be him."
Sure enough, a commotion is brewing, way down the parade route. You can hear the cheers -- faint at first, now rolling forward like some unstoppable wave. Everyone's leaning forward, craning their necks, hoping to be the first to see him.
It's been a long wait, for the true believers. They arrived early, at the side of the road, to stake out the best vantage points. Now, their forethought is about to pay off. Why, they'll be almost close enough to touch him!
Things are happening fast, now. Coming around the corner, could it be? Yes! It's him. The crowds are going wild. Pandemonium!
The limousine glides to a stop. The doorman scurries over to open the passenger door. Camera strobes are flashing, people are cheering, police officers hold the crowds back. A shiny black shoe emerges from the open door... then a tuxedo-clad leg... and suddenly, there he is!
Turning to wave to the crowd, he flashes that trademark toothy grin. It's him, all right. It's.... Jack Nicholson!
That was the scene just a few weeks ago, in Los Angeles: the annual awards ceremony of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (better known as "the Oscars"). Countless Americans stayed up late, their faces lit by the glow of their TV screens, waiting for the words, "May I have the envelope, please?"
There are some who claim that movie stars are the closest thing our country has to royalty. If that's true, then the red-carpeted sidewalk may be America's avenue of coronations. Ever since the days of Gable and Monroe, of Bogart and Bergman, movie stars have alighted from their limousines outside the appointed place to receive from their followers something very much resembling worship.
* * *
What do we most need to see and understand during this Holy Week? We need to see and understand and know, with all our hearts and souls and minds, that it was Jesus' great love for each of us that led him to go through all of this week's events -- his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, the trials with their whippings and scourgings, and finally his crucifixion on Mount Calvary.
The following prayer was found among Martin Luther's letters:
May our dear Lord Jesus Christ show you his hands and his side and gladden your heart with his love, and may you behold and hear only him until you find your joy in him. Amen.
Martin Luther, Daily Readings from Luther's Writings, ed. by Barbara Olsen (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg, 1993), p. 108
* * *
What could we say is the main content of the Christian message? We can say that the Lord God of all creation is searching for each of us, to establish a relationship with us.
And that we can have a relationship with God only if God descends and gives himself to us.
John wrote: In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins (1 John 4:10).
There is for [us] no way to God except the way of God's self-giving love at the cross.
Gustaf Aulen, The Faith of the Christian Church (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Fortress Press, 1973), pp. 110-114
* * *
What happens down there at the foot of the path of real guilt, at the bottom of human despair of self, at the foot of the cross? The apostle writers call it a dying-to-self and a passing from death to life. Kierkegaard also called it dying to self, followed by the leap of faith in the Christ of the cross. And then? Kierkegaard is at a loss to describe the miracle. In his book, Fear and Trembling, he writes:
The dialectic of faith is the most delicate and the most extraordinary of all; it has an elevation of which I can certainly form a conception, but no more than that. I can make the mighty trampoline leap whereby I cross over into infinity; my back is like a tightrope dancer's, twisted in my childhood, and therefore it is easy for me. One, two, three -- I can walk upside down in existence, but I cannot make the next movement, for the miraculous I cannot do -- I can only be amazed at it!
Edna Hong, The Downward Ascent (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg, 1979), p. 76
* * *
Sometimes the problem with leadership is seen in the judgment of whom you listen to for advice. In 1 Kings 12:1-19, the issue of succession after Solomon arose. Rehoboam was the one to succeed Solomon and the issue was how he would rule over the people. His older advisors suggested that "if you will be a servant to this people today and serve them, and speak good words to them when you answer them, then they will be your servants forever." Then Rehoboam turned to his younger advisors who had grown up with him and they advised him to say, "My father made your yoke heavy, but I will add to your yoke; my father disciplined you with whips, but I will discipline you with scorpions." When he chose the harsh way of governing, the people of God were split into two nations.
* * *
Sometimes the problem with choosing a leader is that we have too narrow a perspective in making our choice and we think that our world represents the whole world. How does a politician tell the truth and still get elected?
A frog had lived all his life in a well. One day he was surprised to see another frog there. "Where have you come from?" he asked.
"From the sea. That's where I live," said the other.
"What's the sea like? Is it as big as my well?"
The frog laughed. "There's no comparison," he said.
The well frog pretended to be interested in what his visitor had to say about the sea. But he thought, "Of all the liars I have known in my lifetime, this one is undoubtedly the greatest -- and the most shameless!"
How does one speak of the ocean to a frog in a well, or of reality to the ideologue?
-- Anthony de Mello, Taking Flight (New York: Doubleday, 1988)
* * *
Authority and truth are not always apparent to the observer. The gospel of John loves to convey the truth through irony. It is never clearer than in John's description of the passion. When Jesus was before Pilate, Pilate asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" (18:33). After a discussion Pilate said, "So you are a king?" (18:37). Kings have the power to release prisoners and it was the result of Jesus that Barabbas was set free. The soldiers thought they were mocking Jesus when they placed a crown of thorns on his head and dressed him in a purple robe. They then kept saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" (19:3). Pilate then presented Jesus before the crowd wearing the crown and purple robe (19:5). Later Pilate said to Jesus, "Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?" (19:10). But Jesus responded by clarifying from where true power comes. Then when Pilate had him crucified, he placed a sign over the cross that read: "Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews" (19:19). In each of these examples, the truth was stated by people who thought they were mocking Jesus. While the gospel of Luke quotes Jesus as saying that if people are silent, the stones will cry out (Luke 19:40), John shows how people speak the truth even when they don't think that is what they are doing. God is not without a witness.
WORSHIP RESOURCE
Call to Worship
Leader: This is the day to remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem:
People: The day to remember the glad shouts of the people...
Leader: The day to remember those who inflicted the pain...
People: The day to remember those who partook of the burdens...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like the chief priests, betray the Lord by stealth...
People: The day to remember that we, like the woman with the ointment, owe the Lord our best...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like Judas, sell the Lord for silver...
People: The day to remember that we, like Pilate, reject conscience for the crowd...
Leader: The day to remember that we, like Simon of Cyrene, can bear the Savior's cross...
People: The day to remember that we, like Jesus, must die to self to live for God.
Leader: Let us sing Hosanna to the son of David!
Call to Reconciliation
If we propose to join the disciples as they mark Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, we ought also to have the humility to join them in admitting that, ere the week is over, we too will fall away and abandon Jesus to face alone his torment and passion. Be reminded that none of them, nor any of us, stood finally at his side; and raise your voice with mine in confession of our failing.
-- Don C. Skinner, Prayers for the Gathered Community: Resources for the Liturgical Year (United Church Press, 1997), p. 89
Unison Prayer of Confession
O Lord, whose victory in Jerusalem
was suddenly transformed into the agony of Calvary:
deliver us from the temptation to turn your passion
into a pious parade.
Forgive us for the times when we seek glory for ourselves,
and fail to give glory to you.
Save us from unrighteous anger,
from greed,
from harmful words and impure thoughts.
Forgive us for looking only to ourselves,
and not to the interests of others.
Remind us of how you spurned the offer of a royal crown
to shoulder a criminal's cross;
and help us to know, with deep gratitude,
that your saving death was for us. Amen.
Prayer For the Day
Holy Jesus, every day
Keep us in the narrow way;
And, when earthly things are past,
Bring our ransomed souls at last
Where they need no star to guide,
Where no clouds thy glory hide. Amen.
-- From the hymn, "As With Gladness Men of Old," text by William Chatterton Dix, 1858
Responsive Charge
Leader: The cross,
People: we shall take it;
Leader: the bread,
People: we shall break it;
Leader: the pain,
People: we shall bear it;
Leader: the joy,
People: we shall share it;
Leader: the gospel,
People: we shall live it;
Leader: the love,
People: we shall give it;
Leader: the light,
People: we shall cherish it;
Leader: the darkness,
People: God shall perish it. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
What's in a box?
Object: a plain cardboard box wrapped beautifully
Philippians 2:5-11
... who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. (vv. 6-7)
Good morning, boys and girls. If you were God, what do you think you would want to look like? (let them answer) Would you like to be tall, handsome, or beautiful, with great looking muscles or a pretty figure? What kind of clothes would you wear? (let them answer)
I want to tell you a short story. Most of the time when I receive a gift it comes in a beautifully wrapped package. I don't know what is inside the package but I know it is special because of the wrapping and the bows. I love beautiful-looking gifts but what I really want to know is what is inside the package.
In a matter of seconds I take off the wrapping paper and I come to a plain old cardboard box. (unwrap the cardboard box) I open the box and inside of the box is the gift. It could be a television or a shirt. It could be a computer or a new coat. I thank the person that gave it to me and I hook it up or try it on.
But what happens to the empty box? Sometimes I put it in the garage or take it to the basement and put it on a shelf. Sometimes I think this is just the right box for me to pack my books or some clothes that I want to take on vacation. Many times I use the box in my workshop. The gift that I received is used once in a while, but the box keeps on working. Many times I have the box longer than I do the gift that came in it. The box becomes very important to me.
God came to us as a gift in the form of Jesus. Most of you would compare Jesus to the precious and beautiful gift that comes in a box. Jesus would then be like the television or computer. He could be a coat, a shirt, or a hat. But that is not the way the gift was given. Jesus is the box, the empty box. He did not come to live like a god with super power that would make it rain on certain days, grow food in the desert, or make playgrounds out of the oceans. Jesus came like you and me and grew up in the world just like us. He worked hard like your father and mother. Jesus lived like every other man. His feet got dirty, he hurt when he fell down, he liked a good joke, and he enjoyed eating fish and bread. Jesus was like the empty box. He was here for everyone -- not just for the rich and powerful but also for the beggar and the blind person. Jesus was one of us when he lived on earth. The big difference is that he did not just die, but he died for us.
The next time you see an empty box I want you to think about how Jesus was one of us and how he was used to bring us eternal life. Amen.
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The Immediate Word, March 16, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
