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I remember growing up outside Chicago. Oftentimes, in the summer, we’d be playing
outside without a care in the world.
When suddenly a new sky roll in.
Black and ominous. Heavy with the
thunderstorm it contained. Or worse were
the times when the sky would lighten, only to turn a sickening shade of yellow.
In either case, our fun times were limited. We’d try to eke out a little more
fun. But soon enough, we scattered to our homes, either to hunker down for the
imminent thunderstorm, or worse, head to the basement for the tornado warning
siren that was soon to go off.
This is what I thought of when pondering today.
First, we celebrate Palm Sunday, Jesus’ triumphant entry
into Jerusalem. We process with palms, ushering in our savior, as the people
did that back then. We shout Hosannas and wave our palms. It feels almost like a hero’s welcome parade.
After that, we read the Passion Story. So as we’re waving our palms and
shouting, we know what’s coming. Our joy
isn’t as high. Our Hosanna’s aren’t quite as heartfelt. Our joyful ticker tape parade is a little
subdued.
But here’s the thing. That day, that triumphal entry wasn’t
really like a ticker-tape parade. It had
a somber note, that maybe is more accurately reflected by our subdued Hosannas.
First of all, Jesus knew. He’d been telling his disciples where he was headed,
and why. He knew.
Second, the people didn’t know. They didn’t have any idea
who was coming, or at least they were strongly convinced of the wrong thing
coming. The people wanted Jesus to save
them from the Roman occupation. To be the insurrectionist to overthrow their
oppressors. But instead of riding in on
a war horse surrounded by his well outfitted soldiers and their show of force,
he came in on donkey. A lowly donkey, often used as a sign of peace and
conciliation. How upsetting and distressing for a people expecting the majestic
war horse! How can you make peace with
these Roman monsters? You are not who we thought you were. You are not what we need.
Finally, think about what the people were crying out. Hosanna!
We’ve come to think this means, “woo hoo” “Welcome”, “Praise”. It’s almost become the same word as that
celebratory “A” word we exclaim at the
dismissal but don’t say during Lent. But
that’s not really what it means, or at least that’s not what it meant
then. Hosanna comes from a few Hebrew
words that are used in the Psalms, to mean Save us! So instead of this being the championship
heroes’ welcome parade, it was more like the oppressed people crying out to be
saved like the impoverished masses, crying out to their king, “Save us”. There’s a sense of despair or dire need in
crowds crying out, “Save Us”. And their
hero who’s going to save them? He comes
in on a donkey. Again, Christ was not
who they thought he was, and he was not what they thought they needed.
So for the people, this was not likely the joyous parade. It
was more like our subdued, conflicted Hosannas.
After we celebrated Jesus’ entry, we quickly moved to the
Passion narrative. We relive the story
of that horrible week. Every year, I’m struck by the gruesomeness, and how I’m
uncomfortable all over again, at a very deep level. I’m struck by the intimacy
of the foot washing and last supper, and then by the head-spinning turn of
events. The betrayal, abandonment, denial, complicity, trial, torture and
state-sanctioned execution.
Part of what makes this story and this week so hard is
because we know who Jesus was; God incarnate. It’s like watching a movie where
the audience knows something will happen, but the characters don’t. We know what’s happening, and we can do
nothing to change it. During this week,
we see humanity at its worst. We see
what humanity did to Christ – to God.
It’s not very far between the crowds crying Hosanna, looking
for their savior, to the crowds crying “Crucify Him”, condemning the very one
they called out for. Events turn quickly
and drastically. Jesus is denied,
abandoned, betrayed, tried, tortured and executed. And here’s the thing. As Patti has talked
about during Lent, at the end of this week, God shows up. God shows up in Jesus statements of love and
forgiveness throughout the week. On Maundy Thursday, we hear him give the new
commandment, to love one another. God shows up in love and intimacy and
commands us to share that love. From the
cross on Friday, God shows up in our lives, as Jesus forgives. Forgive them Father,
for they know not what they do. God
shows up and loves and forgives the very people who denied, abandoned,
betrayed, tried, tortured and executed.
And when we finally reach next Sunday, God shows up in a very grand way
– the empty tomb.
If God shows up, loves and forgives the people back then,
how could we ever doubt that God shows up, loves and forgives us now?
Holy Week is hard, yes. But I think of those sweet days
playing outside as a child. The sky
would get ominous, we’d scatter and hunker down in the safety of the basement,
with our families. We’d weather the
worst. And eventually, we’d come back out. The streets washed clean, the air
smelling fresh. It was always so much nicer to play outside after one of these
scary storms.
So it is with Holy Week.
We are invited to hunker down, in community to weather the bad. To do so aware of what’s happening, and in
community. Then, next Sunday, together,
we come back out. God shows up in an ultimately and definitively winning way –
the empty tomb. During this week ahead,
we share the darkness in community, we see God showing up in the midst of that,
and loving and forgiving the very people involved. And after having spent this
hard time together, we finally get to come out after the storm passes. To see
and revel in all the places we see God’s love and forgiveness. God shows up.
He’s with us all week. Come, let’s share it together.
Amen.
