Isaiah 50: 4-9a Ps. 31: 9-16
Philippians 31: 9-16 Mark 14: 1- 15: 47
Speak Lord, for your servants are listening. Amen.
Perhaps one of the most exhilarating parts of our worship this morning was shouting and singing together Hosanna! Hosanna! We are able to just feel ourselves there, in the crowded Jerusalem streets, waving our palm branches and running alongside the colt Jesus is riding on, craning our necks for a glimpse of him. Perhaps we would have been among those who laid our cloaks along the street, a sign of our respect and our joy. Hosanna! We cry aloud. Hosanna!
But in what seems like the cruelest joke of all, we, along with the crowd that followed Jesus, turn on him. Our cries are no longer cries of adoration and respect and joy, but rather we shout aloud “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
We journey on this day through the last week of Jesus’ life. Later this week we will revisit Jesus and the disciples on Thursday, there in the Upper Room, where we will feast together and resist his servant gestures to us and hear his reminder that we are to love one another above all things. On Friday we will listen to the seven last words Jesus spoke that night. We will hear them spoken and hear stunning sung reflections. And we will linger there at Golgotha, wondering what has happened.
But today, on this day, we read the entire story and we don’t just read it and hear it, we all participate together. And in this way, we understand something more, not just about that week in Jesus’ life, but we understand something more about ourselves.
We understand more about how we are like those gathered crowds, whose voices changed so quickly. How often do we also change the way we greet Jesus, either in our speech or in our action? How often do we go from welcoming his presence in our lives to completely turning our backs on it?
How are we like the woman who sacrifices what is very valuable and costly to show her love to Jesus?
How are we like the disciples who waited there in the garden while Jesus prayed, unable to stay awake? Are we so consumed with the rest of our lives that when we sit still enough to pray or simply to rest, sleep overtakes us?
How are we like Peter? Peter whose brashness and rashness turns so quickly to denying any association with Jesus as soon as it looks like he might be in danger? Do we, too, deny Jesus to a world that deems him irrelevant or unimportant?
How are we like Simon of Cyrene? Do we willingly carry a cross that has been thrust upon us unexpectedly?
How are we like Joseph of Arimathea, who courageously approaches the very authorities who have killed Jesus in order to care for him? Do we care enough to place ourselves in harms way for another?
In Mark’s version, which is the first Gospel to have been written, there is the presence of a young boy in the story. Mark describes him briefly, noting that after he was pursued by authorities he fled, leaving his only piece of clothing behind. It is a curious part of Mark’s account of the Passion story. Scholars believe Mark is describing himself.
If you were to write yourself into this story where would you be? What would you be doing? Would you be one of the crowds calling for Jesus’ death, asking for Barabbas to be freed instead? Would you try to stop Judas? Would you offer a gift to Jesus….a song, a hand to hold? Would you be one of those who followed along, grieving? Knowing ourselves, as only we can know ourselves, how would we write ourselves into the story?
The story is not over. Every day we write ourselves into the unfolding story of the Kingdom of God. Every day we choose what part we will play in that story. Defender or deserter. Courageous or cowardly. Every day we choose whether the words we speak are Hosanna or Crucify him. Every day.
Amen.
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