|
First
Reading
|
Psalm |
Epistle |
Gospel |
| Isaiah 50:4–9a
|
|
Philippians 2:5–11 |
Matthew 26:14–27:66 |
The messiah was expected to enter Jerusalem at Passover. Riding in triumph and passing into the city through the so-called Golden Gate that faced the Mount of Olives, God's anointed one would free the city of foreign oppression, and restore the glory of David's ancient kingdom. Jesus seems to have had a brief moment of minor fame as he was greeted by pilgrims on the road as he entered the city that day. Yet any faint promise of glory soon vanished. Instead, the passion speaks of frightened and tense disciples, of the watch that fell asleep, of the students who did not understand their teacher. The passion speaks of closest friends running away and deserting. The passion reeks of failure, suffering and loneliness.
Hence Jesus was easily captured at night and led away. One follower drew a sword in a futile gesture of protest, but no legion of angels or earthly armies came to the rescue. Instead of ascending to the revered throne of King David, Jesus was taken by collaborators and soldiers of an occupying army and put up on an instrument of torture. In place of a jeweled crown, taunting guards jammed a ring of thorns in his head. His royal court consisted of two terrorists, both of whom, in Matthew's account, were unrepentant and mocking. How could anyone, who claimed to announce God's presence in the world, end up abandoned and humiliated like this? The announcement over the skies of Bethlehem of peace and goodwill now seemed so hollow as the full force of the greatest Empire on earth came down upon him. At the end, there was no profound profession of faith, no threats, no final angry curses; just an anguished cry, and then nothing.
Yet from the very beginning, the Biblical story involves God creating something out of nothing. Mud becomes life; nobodies in Egypt become somebodies and given the mission to be a light to all nations; old and brittle dry bones become a living community again; exiles are led back to a homeland; frightened deserters are transformed into brave disciples.
God raises up what has been brought low. God uses what has been cast off. God makes new what has grown old. Things are brought to their perfection through God who creates wonder and beauty out of emptiness and desolation.
Today we are invited to participate in a journey that inevitably leads to confrontation with the arrogance of worldly power. There is plenty of reason to despair. Despite our protests, entreaties and conferences, wars drag on, society becomes more troubled, problems fester into more virulent forms and quite often justice, compassion, and reconciliation are cruelly mocked. Do not believe that this will end soon.
Every year, as Jesus enters Jerusalem, the passion is read once more. Every year the passion that tells us while we may run away and deeply hurt or betray each other, there is still hope for us. When words fail, when our hearts are breaking, when we know there is nothing left of our resources, when there are no visible signs and certainly no worldly encouragement of hope, we are called to process on believing in a hope that will not be vanquished by the power of the world. People of faith are those who take the notes of hope out of nothing, and in companionship with our Lord, compose a symphony of new life. As the authors Borg and Crossan remind us in our Lenten discussion book, God won't do it without us and we can't do it alone 1 Christianity is never a spectator sport, but is always a participatory faith in the One who always calls us forward with Him. Every year we lay down our palms, the passion is read and the story is passed on from generation to generation, for it is as we chose to participate and join Christ's Passion for justice, peace and goodwill towards all of humanity, that we become a church.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
1 Borg & Crossan, The Last Week, What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Final Days in Jerusalem , p. 187
