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SERMONS

The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
April 4, 2004

People are fickle. They blow with the wind. Their allegiances can change in an instant. Look at today's gospel; the story of our Lord's passion and death. Look at the characters in it.

There are the disciples: Jesus asks them to pray with him. He turns his back and they all fall asleep. And then when soldiers appear they vanish in an instant.

There is Judas: He is a trusted member of Jesus' followers; the treasurer, hand-picked by Jesus himself. He is the betrayer, turning him over to the authorities.

There is Peter: "Oh, no, Lord!" he exclaimed only hours before. "I will never desert you." Before the sun can rise again he will three times deny ever even knowing him."

There is Herod: He has been eager to see Jesus, eager for him to do some amazing sign. Yet when Jesus refuses to perform on cue like some trained seal he mocks him and ships him of back to Pilate.

Yes, Pilate: He has examined Jesus and recognizes him to be innocent of any crime. Yet in the face of pressure from the Lord's accusers, he sends him off to die.

People are fickle. We are no better, you and I. Less than an hour ago we were welcoming Jesus with cries of hosanna and bestowing blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord. And now we lift our voices to cry "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

Oh I know that you will object. "We were only playing our parts in the drama," you say. "I would never turn my back on him. I would never desert my Lord."

I know that you object. Because I object too. "Never would I do such a thing," I declare. And yet I know-I know deep in my being-I know how often I turn away from my Lord. How often I do those things that I would not do. How often I do not do those things that I would do. Out of fear. Out of expedience. Out of self interest. Out of a desire to be liked, a desire to be respected, a desire to get along.

Maybe it's only me. Maybe you are not that way. But I did hear you. I did hear you cry "Crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!"

We are fickle, you and I. We are no better than they are. No better than Peter or Judas or the other disciples. No better than Herod or Pilate or those crowds crying out for blood. That is the wonderful and terrible honesty of the Bible. In it we see humanity-we see ourselves-as we truly are. In all our glory, in all our tragedy, in all our weakness, in all our sinfulness. We can't escape it.

All of them-all of us-fickle, capricious, inconstant.

All but one.

All but Jesus.

There he is: Praying as the disciples sleep. Refusing to run or to fight. Standing silently before Pilate and Herod. Hanging from the cross and imploring, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."

We are fickle, but he is constant. He is faithful. In Jesus we see the faithfulness-the hesed-of God.

God alone is faithful. Jesus alone is constant. And that faithfulness, that constancy, is enough. It is great enough to encompass-to enfold-to embrace-all of our fickleness. Great enough to draw us in all our weakness into God's very self. There to cleanse us, to free us, to offer us the opportunity to see ourselves in the life-giving faithfulness of God.

I invite you as we journey together through Holy Week to be aware of the contrast: the fickleness of humanity and the constancy of Jesus. And I invite you in your own lives to become aware of those times and places where you are fickle. Those times and places where you turn from God. And offer them up to him. For healing. For forgiveness. For new life.

Father, forgive us; for we do not know what we do.

 

David Christian
The Chapel of the Cross
Madison, Mississippi

Luke 22:39-23:56




 



 

 

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