Palm Sunday Sermon- March 24, 2013
Let’s take a minute to let the reading wash over us and to give ourselves a moment of reflection.
May the meditations of our hearts and words of my mouth be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our rock and our redeemer, Amen.
Last Saturday, about 25 people gathered in our fellowship hall for “Pizza and Pontius Pilate,” Kate Nelson-Penland’s creative name for an evening of dinner and a viewing of the rock opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Jesus Christ Superstar. This was my first time seeing this classic, and I was duly impressed by the music and the interpretation of the story of Jesus’ passion- what we read about today in this long Gospel lesson, really. My favorite music of the whole show, though, was in the “Palm Sunday” sequence, if you will. In the version we watched, the millennium version, filmed in the late 90s, this scene could practically be praise and worship service, as the crowds sing, “Christ you know I love you, did you see I waved? I believe in you and God, so tell me that I’m saved.” In the 1973 version, there are people appearing in thin air doing back flips and lots of very energetic hand waving and dancing. During this number, Simon the Zealot pulls Jesus’ ear, telling him that these “screaming fans,” in fact number 50,000 people, [and if you’ve ever been to a professional sports game, you know is a lot of man power.] As a matter of fact, Simon says, they would do whatever you ask them, and together, we could be powerful enough to get rid our country of the Romans who have occupied and oppressed our people for too long. In the end, Simon sings, “you’d get the power, you’d get the glory,” as automatic rifles are passed through the crowd. Simon finishes out, “Power and glory forever and ever and ever, Amen!” with an ammo belt draped over his body and the crowds happily waving their rifles around. They try to pass one off to Jesus, but he looks very disturbed, refuses the gun and with anguish in his voice sings these words, “Neither you Simon, nor the 50,000, nor the Romans, nor the Jews, nor Judas, nor the 12, nor the Priests, nor the scribes, nor doomed Jerusalem itself understand what power is, understand what glory is, understand at all, understand at all.” As you can imagine, this took the wind out of the sails of the crowds, and they lower their weapons, returning home dejected and disappointed.
This five minute scene of Jesus Christ Superstar captures so well the desires of the crowd that were caught up in the Hosannas we sang this morning. Jesus was hailed into Jerusalem because they imagined he would come in as the victorious king, who would overthrow Rome with violent force, and return them to freedom. This was the crowd’s idea of power and glory, their idea of the kingdom Jesus proclaimed. Instead, Jesus refuses to take up the sword, or in modern terms, the automatic rifle. He is paraded into Jerusalem not to become the next Napoleon or Sadaam Hussein or army rebel or commander in chief, but to die. This act in and of itself is a parody on the people’s understanding of power and glory. The king of glory comes not through guns and displays of strength, but sitting humbly on a borrowed donkey, preparing to tell the truth, even if it means he must die. The heralded Messiah has a different plan that will lead not to an earthly throne, but to a cross.
If Jesus is not this kind of exalted king, who is he then? This is the question we explore in the next days, as we journey through Holy week, from this Sunday of the Passion to Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday. I love that we read the lessons with many voices, and that you, as the assembly, were invited to read the parts that were spoken by the crowds. And I love that today we took up palm branches just as the crowds did two thousand years ago. These are real, living invitations to live this story ourselves, not just to hear it, but to become part of the great drama. Over this next week, we are invited to take part in the story together. On Maundy Thursday, we eat together in an agape meal, an abundant feast of love, as Jesus with his disciples did on the last supper. We are invited to this meal whether we imagine like Peter that we will never deny Jesus and will walk with him to the death, and we are invited even if we are arguing amongst ourselves as to who is the greatest and best and most successful of us, and we are invited, too, if we feel the pain of Judas, some deep grief that we have already betrayed our Lord. God’s love makes room at the table for all of us. At this meal, we will be invited to let another human being wash our feet in this uncomfortably intimate ritual that Jesus initiates, to be cleansed and made holy by giving and receiving in this humble service to our friends and neighbors, those whom we know well, and some whom we don’t, those who live in houses or apartments, in garages, parks and cars. In this meal, we will be invited to come to know Jesus’ way of being king and Messiah.
On Friday, we are invited to come to the cross, to stand under it in full acknowledgment of the pain it causes us to see innocence killed by the powerful who have only their own interests in mind. We will stand there as the Marys did underneath the cross, weeping, and as Awilda’s song fills this space, we will lament, too. From this place, we will leave in silence, and come back next Sunday in disbelief that God could bring anything out of that death, and we will join together in surprise and wonder and awe at the Easter festival music and announcement of the resurrection. Yes, we will walk the same road as those first disciples, in this Holy Week.
Jesus is not the kind of Messiah the people were expecting, and frankly, we struggle to understand any better than Simon, the 50,000, the Romans or the Jews, the priests or scribes, or doomed Jerusalem itself what Jesus’ power and glory look like in the world. But this week, we are invited to Jesus’ vision, to walk into relationship with this Lord of love, who would lay down his life for his friends, and who would invite us to follow him. May we come to know ourselves as actors in this great drama, as God in Christ continues to live and work, redeeming all things in love. Amen.
0 Comments