Rector's Sermon - Sunday, April 4, 2004

Collect	First Reading	Epistle	Gospel
Luke 19:29-40	Isaiah 50:4-9a	Philippians 2:5-11	Luke 22:39-2:23:49

   Luke’s account of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem is the most subdued of the Gospels. For Luke there are no palm branches and cries of hosannas. These were symbols associated with the aspirations of a political restoration and return of Jerusalem to home rule under a descendant of King David. Jesus is called a king, but there are no acclamations to the son of David and Luke will later make it clear in Jesus’ encounter with Pilate that Jesus’ mission held no political implications to be king of this world. Moreover, it is Jesus' disciples who begin to praise God as Jesus rides into the city, not crowds of Passover pilgrims along the road. The warning of some of the Pharisees to Jesus to restrain his disciples could very well have been a friendly warning like a previous one to be wary of Herod (Luke 13:31). After all, there were surely informants among the crowds to tip off the Romans who likely might incite trouble during the high holy days.

   Jesus’ reply to the Pharisees’ warning, expresses confidence that ultimately the Gospel would prevail and would not be silenced. If need be, even the stones along the road would testify to God’s continuing grace. Nevertheless, as Jesus rides over the crest of the Mount of Olives and sees the city and the temple before him, there is no sign of jubilation in his heart. He does not gesture victoriously to his disciples, crowing, “At last I have arrived, my great moment in time is about to happen.” Rather, as a somber conclusion to the long journey and as a premonition of what lies ahead for all of them, Jesus breaks down and cries, weeping over all who fill the open courtyards of the temple and crowd the narrow passageways of the city, “ If you in your turn had only understood on this day the message of peace. But alas it is hidden from your eyes.”

   Jesus' birth was announced by divine messengers declaring, "Do not fear", but the story of Jesus’ last days of his earthly life becomes increasingly permeated with fear. There is the fear of the numerous authorities and their web of intrigue; the fear of the disciples who fled from the garden of Gethsemane when Jesus was arrested; the fear that led Peter to directly deny Jesus; the fear of various unnamed volatile groups and small mobs of people with differing agendas; and even the fear of the closest disciples to step forward and claim the body of Jesus after his death.

   Even in writing about these events years later, the early church and the Gospel writers were afraid that the Gospel would appear offensive, if not openly seditious to Roman authorities. It is plainly stated the Jesus suffered and died under Pontius Pilate, forever connecting Jesus to world history. Yet from our vantage point, Pilate is portrayed in such a way that it is easy for him to appear to us as almost a humanizing force, wishing to release Jesus, but forced to be a mere victim of larger circumstances. In historical reality, Pontius Pilate was an unusually cruel representative of a notably cruel regime. He had the notorious distinction of finally being removed from office and recalled to Rome because of his excessive cruelty. Only a fellow like Saddam Hussein’s former minister of information could have believed that Pilate was a humane guy and harbored compassion for a Jew from Galilee.

   Lastly, and perhaps the most pernicious, is the fear later generations have refused to admit in themselves and transferred onto others. The Gospels are very clear on one thing: Jesus died as a common criminal and not as a hero. Yes it is embarrassing and this is precisely the terrible scandal of the Gospel. There are no heroes in this story. The point the passion story makes, is that everyone, from high to low, was ultimately involved. When we search for scapegoats, in effect we are transferring our own fear and guilt to someone else instead of accepting that Jesus has borne it all.

   The passion story has many layers and it should be no surprise that it is difficult to process and interpret it in one, neat, easily wrapped package. That is why, as we read it year after year, it always invites us to hear it differently. If we ever think we have it all together, with no paradoxes, wonderment, and irony, tied neatly with bindings of our own certainty, we’ve got it wrong and need to listen again. It is a story of confusion, terror, and unrelenting fear. Yet the passion is also a part of the wonderful story of God’s love overcoming and casting out all fear, and if we fail to tell that story, of perfect love casting out all fear (cf. 1 John 4:18), even the stones underneath our feet along the road will protest and give witness.

    And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.