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SERMONS

The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
March 24, 2002

By David Christian

I have often said how much I like Peter. I like him because he is so ordinary. All of the disciples, I think, are pretty ordinary. But we get to see Peter more; we know more about him. So his ordinariness stands out.

I have said that I like Peter because, in his ordinariness and his thick-headedness, he is a lot like me. It is Peter, eager to please and impress, who gets the answer right: You are the Messiah. It is Peter who immediately shows that he hasn't a clue what his answer really means.

But on this day I find that resemblance acutely uncomfortable. For it is Peter, asked to keep watch with Jesus in the garden, who falls immediately asleep. It is Peter, impetuous and arrogant, who declares, "I will never deny you." And it is Peter, shedding bitter tears of regret and shame, who realizes how quickly he has turned his back on his friend.

I recognize myself too much in Peter. And what I see I do not like. The scandal of the cross is not that Jesus was crucified by evil men and women. The scandal of the cross is that Jesus was crucified by ordinary men and women, people just like you and me.

It was ordinary people who cheered Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem. It was those same ordinary people who, only a few days later, cried out to crucify him. It was ordinary soldiers, just doing their job, who arrested him on that Thursday night; ordinary officials, trying to keep the peace, who decided that it would be better for him to die; ordinary executioners who lifted him up onto the cross and who stood around, probably chatting about what they were going to do for the weekend, waiting for him to die.

The horror of the crucifixion is not that it was perpetrated by evil people. The horror of the crucifixion is that it was perpetrated by ordinary people, people just like you and me; people just doing their job before going home to supper and maybe to play with the children.

I don't like to think about that. I don't like to see myself in them. I don't like to think about the fact that it was ordinary people-my forebears-who bought and sold and owned other people in this state one hundred and fifty years ago.

I don't like to think about the fact that it was ordinary people who created white and colored waiting rooms and white and colored water fountains.

I don't like to think that it was ordinary people who yelled at and spit upon small black children for trying to go to school and get an education.

I don't like to think about the fact that it was ordinary people-good, God-fearing, Christian Germans-who systematically exterminated six million Jews, going home every afternoon to relax and drink a beer and play with the children.

I don't think I like Peter too much after all. Because I look at Peter and see my eyes staring back at me. I stand up here on Sunday morning all dressed in white and purple-don't you think this color looks good on me-and say I believe in God and I believe in Jesus and I ask God send me into the world to love and serve him with gladness and singleness of heart.

And then I go home. And I hear a demeaning joke and I laugh; and I hear a particularly juicy piece of gossip, and I pass it on because it's too good not to; and I am confronted about something that I did and I don't exactly lie but I don't exactly tell the full truth either; and I shave a little bit off my taxes because, after all, everyone does. And then maybe I have a beer and some supper, and play with the children.

I don't do anything really evil. I just do little things, ordinary things.

And I deny my Lord and I deny my Lord and I deny my Lord.

And he just hangs there on the cross, and silently watches me, and he dies.

David Christian
The Chapel of the Cross
Madison, Mississippi

Matthew 26:36-27:66