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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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