The Third Sunday of Easter

In their Joy, Disbelieving
Luke  24:36b-48

Evidently a notable preacher of Scotland began his Easter sermon in 1988 with these words:

“You know, the disciples didn’t believe it either…”

The resurrection, that is.

He said to his congregation that Easter Sunday: You know, the disciples didn’t believe it either.

The sermon made quite an impression on a young pastoral assistant named Michael Jinkins, who now serves 25 years later as president of Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary here in the US. At the time he was a graduate student in theology in Aberdeen and he was struggling with his own profound doubts.

You who are gathered here in worship this day: Did you really listen to Luke’s Gospel read this morning?

Jesus tends to dominate the story. It is another post-resurrection appearance. As Luke tells it, it is still Easter Day, presumably later in the evening. Some of the disciples, three days after Jesus’ crucifixion, have given up and headed for home. On their way towards home two of them, Cleopas and a companion, have seen Jesus. The resurrected Jesus has appeared to them on the road and in the breaking of the bread. And they have rushed back to Jerusalem to tell the others.

And that is where today’s reading begins. Cleopas and his companion join the others who are there, huddled together, frightened and confused. And Jesus comes to them.

Jesus is the main character, but focus for now on what Luke tells us about the disciples.

They were startled and terrified. (Note that Luke does not report that they were relieved or exultant). Not one is reported to have said to Jesus, “I knew it. I knew you were coming back.” Not one of Jesus’ disciples turned to the one next to him and said, “I told you so. I knew he was coming back.” They were startled and terrified.

And Jesus says to them: Why are you frightened and why do doubts arise in your hearts? In the presence of Jesus they felt fear and doubt.

As the wise Scottish preacher said: The disciples didn’t believe it either.

The story progresses and Jesus spends time with his disciples, helping them understand. He has “flesh and bones.”  He shows them the wounds on his hands and feet. But even after all that, Luke says “In their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering.”

Joy and disbelief can coexist.

That seems to me to be a very, very important message of this Gospel reading. Joy and disbelief can dwell in the human heart at the same time. Even in followers of Jesus. Joy and disbelief can coexist in the hearts of Jesus’ disciples.

As he reflects on that sermon he heard many years ago, Michael Jinkins goes on to say, “It is appropriate that belief issues forth from doubt. At the very least, belief and doubt are not opposites. They are intimately related responses in those who are actually paying attention to the amazing acts of God among us.”

Belief and doubt are not either/or. They are not in opposition to one another. Belief and doubt are intertwined, intimately related responses to people who are paying attention to the amazing acts of God among us.

In the Bible I mostly use at home today’s verses from Luke and the few more that follow before the end of the Gospel are titled “The Commissioning of the Disciples.” Not to put too much stock in the words of 20th century editors, and that is all that this title is…  Jesus appeared to this huddle of frightened, confused, disbelieving disciples. Jesus came to them in the midst of their fear, confusion and doubt. Jesus came to them and sent them out to spread the Good News, to witness to God’s love and power as revealed in Christ. And they did. They did. This frightened, confused, still disbelieving group of disciples witnessed to the power of the resurrection. We wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.

So what does this mean for us?

Being a Christian does not require bombastic certainty or even polite doubtlessness, however how polite.

Being an apostle and witness to the faith does not require unswerving confidence and lack of fear.
Just look at Jesus’ own disciples.

The Christian life involves doubt and belief, terror and joy. It’s right there in Luke. While in their joy they were still disbelieving and wondering.

The Christian journey will lead us ultimately and certainly to God. Over time the disciples grew in their faith and their awareness of Jesus’ resurrected presence with them. But it takes time. It takes an accumulation of experiences of God’s awesome presence with us. The amazing acts of God continue in our midst.  This week I was part of a meeting of Deans in the Diocese of Chicago.  Our check-in question was "Where did you see Jesus this Holy Week and Easter?"  We all had ready answers.  The amazing acts of God continue in our midst.

The Christian journey is less about affirming belief—affirming acceptance of a set of particular beliefs—and more about paying attention (especially when Jesus shows up). Life as a Christian is less about affirming belief and more about paying attention to the wondrous acts of God in our lives.

The Christian life is less about some certainty of faith and more about openness and alertness to what continues to be revealed in our lives today. Be open and alert to what God is continuing to reveal in our lives today. Pay attention to the amazing acts of God among us.

(For much of the perspective of this sermon I am indebted to Michael Jinkins and his sermon for this day presented as "Living by the Word" in the Christian Century, April 18, 2012.)

Easter Day

Suppressed Immunity

Funny things happen on Easter...
Church attendance goes up noticeably.
The number of hats and ties also increases significantly.
Bunnies lay eggs.

Funny things happen on Easter...
On Easter people find it easier to love the unlovable.
On Easter people find light and hope in their hearts where before there had been only darkness.

Funny things happen on Easter...
On Easter people find it easier to be generous.
People find it easier to look beyond themselves and celebrate the joys of others.

On Easter people find a “goodness” within themselves beyond their normal reckoning. On Easter the measure of our personal goodness goes up.

I think most of us have a pretty accurate sense of how good we are. If we take our own measure when no one else is around… no one else to beat us down… no one else whom we think we need to impress. Within ourselves when no one else is around, we take a pretty true measure of how good we are. Measure again today—Easter. You’ll find you’re “gooder” today. You have more good within you today than your normal reckoning.

Hang on to that extra goodness. It’s real. And it is more important than anything else in your life. It’s grace. Real. Pure. Grace.

There’s a wonderful scene near the beginning of Charles’ Dickens story A Christmas Carol. Scrooge has gone to bed on that night that will turn out to be so eventful for him. As he tries to sleep, Marley’s ghost appears to him. The ghost of his former partner, Jacob Marley.

Scrooge is skeptical about the whole experience and extremely skeptical of the reality of the ghost. To his skepticism, the ghost says:

"Why do you doubt your senses?"
"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

Scrooge denies the reality of the ghost, labeling it as a figment of his imagination brought on by indigestion.

Some people might question the reality of Easter grace. How do we know that this extra goodness within us today is not just a surfeit of sugar or the optimism of spring?

You can wait for proof, whatever would serve as proof for you, that this goodness is God’s grace. Or you can choose to act as though God had actually infused your life with grace, even if you’re not sure, and see what happens. You can simply decide to live, to act, more gracefully. Be generous. Act in love towards those who are difficult to love. Love is just as much about action as it is about feeling. Do something to nurture hope and new life in the world around you.

I recently read an interview with a women who is known within her Carmelite community as Sister Rachel. She has written several books on prayer under the name of Ruth Burrows. I don’t know much about her, except that the picture accompanying the interview showed her to be a woman who had lived many years, most of them, I think as a Carmelite nun. The Carmelites have a particular calling for the interior spiritual life and prayer and spend much of their time in silence.

In the interview she spoke of faith. “Faith is a profound mystery that we can never adequately explain. It is an interplay between divine grace and the human mind and will. Faith is never a mere intellectual assent but always involves commitment. It is always in action, more a verb than a noun. Many people think they have no faith because they feel they haven’t. The do not realize that they must make a choice to believe, take the risk of believing, of committing themselves and setting themselves to live out the commitment.” The alternative may be waiting for a lifetime “under the cover of authenticity… for the kind of certainty we cannot have” (The Christian Century, April 4, 2012). A lifetime of empty waiting.

You can wait for proof, or you can choose to believe. Choose to believe that this Easter’s goodness is grace. And you can choose to act upon that grace.

Easter grace. Today, Easter, is of course a unique holy day. And it is Easter that brings this extra goodness, this grace, to us. But not because God works harder on Easter day. We receive extra grace today because our defenses are down. Our immune system is compromised on this day. The acquired immunity to grace that we have carefully built up throughout our lives is suppressed on Easter. Our acquired immunity to grace is suppressed today... so more grace gets in.

God pours grace upon us all of the time. And the thing is, the more we choose to act upon that grace, the more our immunity will crumble. The more often we decide to believe God’s grace is with us, the more receptive we will become to receiving that grace. The more we claim the grace we have been given, the more we will be open and able to receive God's grace.

Reckon up your own goodness today and see if there isn’t just a little extra. See if you don’t find within yourself a little more than your usual goodness today. Or maybe you’ll find a lot more than usual.

In the first chapter of John (1:16), the evangelist writes:   From Christ’s fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

Look for your extra Easter grace upon grace and choose to use it to live gracefully.

And today living gracefully mostly means celebrating. Speak or sing alleluia! Dance! Feast! Do something celebratory. Celebrate the wondrous gift of Easter grace in your life.

The Great Vigil of Easter

Lo, I am With You

In the very last verses of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says to his disciples: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

This scene is after Jesus’ death and resurrection. It is one of the so-called post-resurrection appearances before his ascension. In Matthew, this is the last time the disciples see Jesus and these are his last words: “Remember, I am with you always to the end of the age.”

In an older translation, Jesus said, “Lo, am with you even unto the end of the world.” “Lo,” I am with you, rather than “remember” I am with you. I like the old translation. We don’t use “lo” much in everyday conversation, but it means “behold.” Beholding is more than remembering. Behold, be aware, perceive… I am with you.

This passage from Matthew is part of the church’s warrant for baptizing. Jesus instructs his disciples to baptize disciples in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. And so we do.

The earliest extant Christian liturgical document we have is a baptismal liturgy from the mid 2nd to early 3rd century. That service would have been an Easter Vigil like this one, where candidates were baptized just in time to see the Easter dawn. A much more recent addition to the church’ baptismal liturgy is the baptismal covenant -- one of the great treasures of our current prayer book. We said it a few moments ago. The baptismal covenant gives shape and form to the Christian life, giving us words to live by.

In addition to the general vows of baptism to renounce evil and follow Christ, in the baptismal covenant we vow as baptized members of the Body of Christ to:

• be faithful in worship
• to seek reconciliation with God when we need it
• to proclaim the Good News of Christ through the witness of our lives
• to seek the face of Christ in others
• to work for justice and peace.

These are significant vows that we make.

But by far the most important commitment we recognize and celebrate tonight is God’s vow to us. Our vows are important, but the most significant vow we celebrate tonight is God’s vow. Tonight, by God’s grace, Tyler is sealed and marked as Christ’s own forever. And all of us who have been baptized are reminded that God has made that same vow to us. That we are God’s own forever. That simple, that sweeping, that profound.

God vows to hold us as his own forever. God vows to love us even if we don’t always fulfill our part of the vows. God vows to never turn away from us, even if we turn away from him. God vows to guide and bless our every day. God vows to be with us always, even to the end of the age.

This is God’s extravagant commitment.

There are several ways we can respond to this extravagant commitment of God to us. Some people I suppose manage indifference. Maybe some are tempted by God’s unconditional commitment to become a sort of adolescent spiritual wastrel. After all, why not, God will always take us back?

The best response, of course, is gratitude. Gratitude for the blessings of living a life shared with Christ, shaped by Christ’s presence with us. Gratitude for the experience of finding, in the baptismal covenant, direction to deepen our life in Christ. And the awareness that life in Christ brings joy, freedom and peace.

Gratitude all starts with “lo.” “Lo” I am with you. Gratitude begins with the awareness that God is with us. Gratitude begins with our beholding Christ’s presence with us. We can help one another with that beholding. We can be the presence of Christ for others; we can help show the presence of Christ to others. All of us here are a part of Tyler’s beholding that Christ is with him. We can help him see that the marvelous and holy flame kindled this evening will illumine his path to the end of the age.

Good Friday

Lost

Earlier this week I heard just part of a radio program featuring the Seven Last Words of Christ. I think it was Tuesday evening on WFMT. I didn’t hear the beginning or the end, so I’m not sure of the specifics, but it included reflections on the Seven Last Words of Christ from the cross interspersed with chamber music—I think it was Haydn’s Seven Last Words for string quartet. The reflections were by prominent contemporary religious figures.

One was by Peter Gomes. The Rev. Professor Peter Gomes died about a year ago, so his reflection was read by someone else. All of this is by way of giving Professor Gomes credit for an idea that has stuck with me and seems very important today on Good Friday.

He talked about being lost. One way of being lost, stereotypically attributed to male drivers, happens when you know where you are; you know how you got there; but you don’t know how to get where you’re going. (And you are unwilling to ask for directions. Gomes was willing to put himself in this category.) You know where you are. You know how you got there. But you don’t know where to go next. You know where you want to be, but you don’t know how to get there.

Another sort of lost is total disorientation. You have no idea where you are. Like waking up some morning alone in a strange land where you do not speak the language nor read the alphabet.

I think all of us in the course of our lives metaphorically experience both of these kinds of feeling lost. Thinking of the sense of total disorientation, I have seen people experience a total sense of disorientation after the death of a spouse of a parent. The “survivor” who is left behind feels quite suddenly lost in a strange, almost unrecognizable world.

But Gomes pointed out that the bandits, or thieves, crucified with Jesus were the first kind of lost. They knew exactly where they were and they knew exactly how they got there. But they could go no further on their own. They did not know the way forward.

And I think that’s where we are as we stand at the foot of the cross today. We are at the cross. The cross of crucifixion.

We know exactly where we are. We are at the place where the Son of God is dying before our eyes. And we know exactly how we got here.

The devices and desires of our own hearts brought us here. That wonderful phrase from the Book of Common Prayer. We got here to the cross of crucifixion because we followed the devices and desires of our own hearts. We stand at the foot of the cross with our Lord crucified in front of us because we followed the devices and desires of our own hearts.

But I think it’s even worse. We are here because we followed the devices and desires of our own hearts, but we got here also through the devices and desires of other peoples’ hearts. You can imagine the situation when you ask a group of kids who were playing ball who actually hit the baseball that broke the window. They all point to someone else. In a very important sense their allegations are true. They were all in it together. They all were a part of the endeavor that broke the window.

We are responsible not only for getting ourselves here; we have helped bring others to this place at the foot of the cross. And they have helped bring us here.

We know exactly where we are.
We know exactly how we got here.
But we are lost.
We do not know the way forward.

But God does. God knows the way forward from this place. God alone can lead us forward from the cross. God alone can lead us to where we wish to be. But we have to ask. One of the thieves crucified next to Jesus turned to Jesus on the cross and prayed: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

The devices and desires of all of our hearts have brought us here to the cross. If we desire to move beyond the cross of crucifixion, we have to ask!

To the thief who asked, Jesus said: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

Maundy Thursday

Together
John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Our worship during Holy Week draws us into the experience of Jesus’ final days. What was it really like to be at the gathering of Jesus and his disciples that we remember tonight?

In the collect for Maundy Thursday we pray in thanksgiving that Jesus “instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.” And we talk about the “holy mysteries.” It gives it all a very churchy feel. And the gravitas of this service contributes to a sense of mystery and solemnity.

But Ched Myers in his commentary on Mark points out that this was a group probably in hiding, in danger, undercover, anxious. Fear and uncertainty might well have been their dominant feelings.

The church invites us to consider several messages this night. We do consider Jesus’ institution of the Eucharist. There is the foot washing and the call to servant ministry. And there is Jesus’ command to love one another. All of these messages are good.

But at the most basic level I’m struck by one thing. The fact that they were together. It was an intense and dangerous time. The disciples didn’t back away. It might have been safer to disperse, but they were all together.

Jesus certainly knew things were coming to a head. As John tells it, he knew his “hour” had come. And he spent his last hours with his followers. There are a lot of other things he could have done. But he wanted to be with them.

And he wants to be with us. With the same passionate intensity. Tonight.

And we’re reminded of the importance of coming together with one another. The epistle for tomorrow, Good Friday, includes the injunction in Hebrews: Do not neglect to come together.

Thinking about all of the traditional teachings of this night… They all involve a community gathered. A shared meal. Acts of service. Even Jesus’ command to love one another.

I know this is one of my soap boxes, but the people who say they can be good Christians without the church… How do you love one another without the church? How do you share a meal without the church? How do you wash one another’s feet without the church?

There is an oft-repeated story about the American evangelist Dwight L. Moody. Moody was trying to bring a man to Christ. The gentleman expressed belief in Christ, but no interest in the church. They were seated in front of a fire. Moody took the tongs and removed one burning coal from the fire. It doesn’t take long for a single isolated coal to go cold.

The Gospel reading for Maundy Thursday is actually two parts from the 13th chapter of John. We heard verses 1-17 and 31-35. The omitted section was last night’s Gospel. It is the story of Judas’ betrayal. “He immediately went out. And it was night.”

The only disciple who was alone this night was Judas.

Maundy Thursday is about being together. With Jesus and with one another. Jesus wants to be with us. We need one another in order to be Jesus’ disciples.

There is no dismissal tonight. For that matter, none tomorrow either. Liturgically these three services (through the Vigil) are all one.

Because there is no dismissal, we don’t say good-bye to one another. We will go home to our own beds this evening, but in another sense we will stay together. We will stay together until we know Christ risen in our midst.

Wednesday in Holy Week

Implicated in the Christian Life
Hebrews 12:1-3

We have just heard very familiar words from the Letter to the Hebrews. “Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses. Whenever I hear this passage I think of the saints in the windows that surround us every time we gather here for worship at St. John’s.

These words in Hebrews are meant to be encouraging. The witnesses are like “fans” at a sporting event. They are cheering for us, encouraging us in our journey of faith. When the author of Hebrews speaks of witnesses, he means the martyrs. Those who had witnessed to the faith with their lives. They encourage us as examples of faith and strength. They support and intercede for us. Especially in trying times, the martyrs who have gone before help Christians persevere.

But this year, this Holy Week, I’m thinking of another role that the cloud of witnesses play.

One of Dorothy Sayers’ early crime novels featuring Lord Peter Wimsey was titled “Clouds of witness.” Those witnesses were the sort that implicate a criminal in a crime. Witnesses implicate.

That word “implicate” has been with me all week.

The cloud of witnesses implicate us in the Christian life. The witnesses who surround us in the windows and in the pews implicate us in the Christian life.

We can’t wiggle out. We can’t shirk our full responsibility as Christians. Not with the cloud of witnesses—living and dead—surrounding us.

It’s tempting to do Christianity as a hobby. Even regular churchgoers often approach the Christian life like a hobby. They attend some of the meetings when they feel like it. Pursue the occasional idea or activity when it is particularly interesting. Christian activities are just one among many activities. Someone might be a Democrat, a bridge player, someone who loves bluegrass, and an intermittent participant in Christianity.

But the cloud of witnesses will not permit us to take Christianity lightly. By their presence, the implicate us in the full Christian life.

They share our celebrations and make them holy. Every time we gather here, they gather with us and their presence makes our worship holy. Even if our hearts and souls are distracted or indifferent, we are a part of something holy.

By sharing our prayers, the great cloud of witnesses gives our prayers the weight and authority of their lives, even when we offer them casually. Our casual prayers are carried to God by the martyrs.

The cloud of witnesses, by their presence, remind us that our sins and failures occur within the context of the Body of Christ. We cannot brush our failures away as individual lapses in judgment. Our sins wound the Body of Christ.

But the cloud of witnesses also show us that our forgiveness is part of the forgiveness which the whole church constantly experiences afresh as God’s gift. A great swell of reconciliation is mediated to us by these witnesses.

The cloud of witnesses implicate us in the fullness and seriousness of the Christian life.

We cannot claim Christianity is a casual hobby when we are in the midst of those who have died for the faith. It is the same faith.

We cannot say the Gospel is a slight thing when St. John the Evangelist speaks for us.

We sit in the pews among those who have given their lives for social justice and peace. We cannot claim our Christianity is less than theirs.

The cloud of witnesses implicate us in the Christian life. Thanks be to God.

Tuesday in Holy Week

Not Many are Wise...
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 12:20-36

Paul’s congregation in Corinth must have been quite different from this one. “Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth,” he says to the people in Corinth.  It sounds like they probably weren’t very strong either.

As I say, quite a different group of people than you gathered here this evening. This passage from the First Letter to the Corinthians always makes me smile. I wonder how the folks in Corinth heard Paul’s words.

I don’t know. Either there’s some irony there or they really were a pretty lame group.

How about you? Who are you among these groups? One of the wise? The strong? The nobly born? The powerful?

Or maybe if it feels a bit uncomfortable or conceited to think in that way, how about these questions: Would you like to be known as wise? Would you like other people to think of you as strong? I'd answer "yes." And by default, all Americans are powerful. And we want to be; we want our nation to have power on the world stage.

Wisdom, strength, at least a certain amount of power… these are not bad things. Who wouldn’t want wisdom to navigate life’s challenges? We need strength to accomplish much of what comes to us in life. And surely power is preferable to powerlessness or helplessness. These are admirable traits.

Part of my own focus this Holy Week is on honest self-awareness. Not in the therapeutic sense, although that is helpful. But I’m thinking more of spiritual self-awareness. Of standing naked before God. How does God really see me? Us?

Each of us has been given gifts. Some people have great physical strength. Other people have more mental agility. Some have been given wisdom. Others have artistic or creative potential.

Jesus tells us elsewhere in the Gospels that we aren’t meant to hide these gifts under a bushel. We are not to put them aside or ignore them. But we are not to boast of these gifts as OURS. They are not ours. They are gifts, given by God, to be nurtured and exercised to the glory of God.

None of them will win us heaven. No human ability will win us heaven.

In the Gospel for today Jesus talks about being the light. Even the best of our human gifts and abilities are of limited use in the dark. Maybe wisdom or patience or strength might help a little. But ultimately we can’t get very far on our own in the dark. Even the strong, the wise, or the powerful. “If you walk in the darkness you do not know where you are going,” says Jesus.

If we look at ourselves honestly, naked on our own before God, we must see ourselves struggling helplessly in the dark.

But Jesus is the light. “The light is with you for a little longer… Walk while you have the light… Believe in the light so that you may become children of light.”

If we look at ourselves honesty, we see ourselves struggling, lost in the dark. But God looks upon us and sees us illumined by the light of Christ. Believe in the light so that you may become children of light.

Monday in Holy Week

Implicated with Judas
John 12:1-11

Yesterday, Palm Sunday, I quoted a writer who talked about how the liturgical use of the great narratives of Holy Week implicates us in the stories. That word “implicate” really caught my attention. The etymology of the word “implicate” refers to “entwine” or “entangle.” The liturgies of Holy Week entangle us in these stories. We are entwined in them. We cannot stand apart from the stories; we are entangled and entwined in them.

The word “implicate” now means “to bear responsibility” or “to be involved.” We hear the word on TV on crime procedurals like Law and Order. The eyewitness implicated the subject in the crime. The evidence implicates her. Someone or something else does the implicating. It takes someone or something else to show our responsibility or our involvement. Especially when we may resist implicating ourselves. So it makes sense to talk about the liturgy implicating us in the story.

So how are we implicated in today’s Gospel story? It’s a relatively familiar story. Jesus is visiting the home of Mary and Martha in Bethany. Lazarus, whom Jesus has already raised from the dead, is there. Mary anoints Jesus feet with a very costly perfume, applying it with her own hair. Judas complains that the expense of the perfume might have been better spent on the poor, although the Gospel writer suggests that Judas’ interest is more avarice than compassion. The crowds clamor after Lazarus. The chief priests plot against Jesus.

How are you implicated in this story? Whose hands are yours? Whose voice is yours? It may be more than one…

It could be Mary. Her extravagant, personal generosity towards her Lord. The implication in the story is that she was lovingly preparing him for burial. Especially we, who know the meaning of his death, may offer deep personal generosity to Jesus. It’s good to remember that our hands may be Mary’s hands.

Or is your voice one in the crowd, more interested in the spectacle of Lazarus than in being a disciple of Jesus. “Work a miracle Jesus! Show me your stuff! But don’t ask anything of me.”

Or are you implicated as one of the chief priests. They were afraid. Afraid that they were losing power. Their status, their personal and professional security in society were threatened. I think there’s a lot of that in our broader society now. Fear of the other. Feeling threatened that someone out there is going to undermine our security.

Then there’s Judas. Can you imagine being implicated as Judas in this story?

For millennia there has been speculation about his motives. Did God predetermine Judas to be the traitor? God’s story needed a betrayer, and Judas was the one tapped by God. I don’t think that’s how it worked. If it had not been Judas, it would have been someone else. All it took was someone who—for a time—was interested in something else more than Jesus. Today’s Gospel reading, along with the descriptions of the money he received for the betrayal, suggest it was money that was his higher priority. Did he know Jesus would be crucified? We don’t know for sure. He turned away from Jesus. He was willing to betray Jesus to the authorities for money. He was someone who, for a time, was more interested in money than being a disciple of Jesus.

Are we implicated in Judas’ action?

In his book on the sacrament of reconciliation (Reconciliation:  Preparing for Confession in the Episcopal Church), Martin Smith challenges us to look at ourselves in light of Jesus’ Summary of the Law, where we are commanded to fully love God, the one true God.

What are the big things in your life, and how does your care for God stand in comparison?

In your heart of hearts, do you think there are some areas of life where the ways of Christ crucified are futile and unreliable?

Are there areas of your life where you have carried on as if God had no say or interest?

Where in you life is there fear, cynicism, defensiveness… What are ways in which you are basically a conformist to the unconverted “powers that be” in society, allowing secular pressures to mold your behavior and define your goals and override the Lordship of Christ?

What are the big things in your life, and how does your care for God stand in comparison? Are you implicated in Judas’ action?

Palm Sunday

What's Next?

Writing about Palm Sunday, Professor Debra Dean Murphy writes:  “That we call these long, dense narratives “liturgies” reminds us that when we read and hear them we are not innocent bystanders–we are implicated in the stories; we have “work” to do in them. We are the crowd along the streets of Jerusalem shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna!””

When we incorporate the sweeping narratives of Palm Sunday into our liturgy, we accept these narratives as more than just stories, even compelling stories, that we sit outside of as listeners or bystanders. We are implicated in the stories.

The Palm Sunday procession is not just another church “activity”; it is liturgy. The word “liturgy” means “work of the people.” The liturgy is the work of the worshiping congregation. The liturgy is the work that all of us here today are gathered to do. And that work “implicates” us in the story.

As we participated in the liturgy of the Palm Sunday procession we became the people who gathered joyous, expectant as Jesus rode into Jerusalem. We welcome Jesus, the Messiah, into our own hearts, into our own cities, our own lives. Today God is with us.

We are meant to know and feel that great joy. We are a part of the celebration.

Our hearts and souls celebrate. We are stirred up by the triumphant arrival of Jesus. So what happens next? In our lives? Where are you going for lunch? What’s on your agenda for this afternoon? How about the rest of the week? The glorious parade is over. Hopefully the joy remains. What happens next?

An image comes to mind. You’ve all seen or been a part of this experience. A young child has a shiny coin, maybe a whole quarter. He’s captivated and excited. He can’t take his eyes off of it; he plays with it; he considers putting it in his mouth. Then his mother’s voice rings out: “Don’t put that in your mouth! You don’t know where that money’s been!” But the child is meant to imagine where the quarter might have been…. its long a varied path into his hand. We imagine the long strand of history leading up to this moment. That quarter had passed through many hands, been a part of many everyday activities—maybe some were less than sanitary, but maybe some were also celebratory—before it became a young boy’s gift.

So now imagine we are the coin. Faces shiny, spirits full of wonder. But run your imagination forward instead of back. What is the journey of your life going forward? We are people who have just shouted with unrestrained happiness. Hosanna! God is with us. At this moment we are people who are inspired, enthused, transformed. We are Palm Sunday people. We are implicated in this story. Take that experience, that new identity that is yours and follow it forward in your imagination.

Later today, will it make any difference that you welcomed Jesus this morning?

Over the course of the week ahead, your lips that shouted hosanna… what else will they say? Will they express impatience with your family or your neighbor or a stranger at the grocery store?

Undoubtedly in the days ahead you’ll do a lot of ordinary things. Maybe some will be holy; maybe some will be dismissive of the God whose arrival you just cheered.

Will you say hosanna again? This week, or any time before next Palm Sunday?

We are the crowd along the streets of Jerusalem joyously shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna!” Professor Murphy reminds us that we are the same mob on Good Friday screaming, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” In the Passion Gospel we said it. “Crucify him!” Fleming Rutledge, a noted Episcopal preacher, has noted “the liturgy of Palm Sunday is set up to show you how you can say one thing one minute and its opposite the next. This is the nature of the sinful human being.” One minute we can be celebratory; the next minute indifferent or even murderous.

Part of the work of Holy Week is figuring out who we are. The work we do together in liturgy impels us to look clearly and unflinchingly at ourselves. No masks, none of the rationalizations we all carry in our pockets all the time, no denial, no wishful thinking about who we’d like to be.

If we do this work seriously and faithfully we will see ourselves as sinful human beings. But, if we do this work seriously and faithfully, we also see ourselves as God’s beloved, accompanied every moment by Christ. Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes to us, the Messiah.