Rev. Loren McGrail
Irondequoit United Church of Christ
April 5, 2020
It’s a scene of jubilation; full of shouting and singing and street theater like the conquering king riding in on a donkey while the Roman representative across town rides in on a war chariot. Self- conscious of fulfilling Zechariah’s prophesy, “…triumphant and victorious is he, humble and victorious is he riding on an ass, a colt, the foal of an ass (Zechariah 9:9).
Blessed is the One that weeps
for us and with us
when we have lost our way.
Blessed is the One that comes
towards us in majesty and humbleness
down that ancient twisted path
straight into our gated cities,
locked up homes and hearts.
Blessed is the one that hears
our shouts of joy
then endures our chants of betrayal.
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken. In the beginning the crowds who had been singing Hosanna, “Save us” acted like they knew who he was or rather they acted like a people ready to be saved by a victorious king. They missed the symbolism of the donkey and the foal and so do most of us. He did not ride on two animals but rather the two represent the prophesy of both Zechariah and Isaiah in whose name and prophetic calling he is following. And of course, we don’t link the hosannas to the burnt palms that will become ashes for next year’s Ash Wednesday. But most importantly, most of us don’t want a Jesus who has come to turn over our tables, who calls us out of our comfortable hiding places, or who will test and judge us.
And truth be told, we Protestants prefer a Jesus which is light on the Passion Story, light on all that blood and suffering. We go from the joy of Palm Sunday to the silent despair of Maundy Thursday with perhaps a prayer around 3:00 PM on Friday, to a quiet Saturday, to a sunrise celebration of “He is risen.” We don’t really want to hear about that event in the Temple when he turned over the tables and threw out the money changers; we don’t want to admit how we too have betrayed him with our silence as he walked by carrying that heavy cross, or how we have become complicit with the powers and principalities of our day who continue to squeeze and oppress the poor and marginalized; the vulnerable and elderly. This is not the part of the story we wish to focus on.
One of the gifts of living in Jerusalem was that I got to celebrate three versions of each Christian feast--- the Orthodox or Eastern Church, the Western Church, and the Armenian Church. One year the Eastern and Western churches celebrated Easter at the same time. It was chaotic but wonderful. One year, Easter Sunday and Passover was celebrated on the same day. This was not so wonderful as it restricted the movement of Christian pilgrims into the Old City.
Holy Week was a joyous and busy time to be in the Old City of Jerusalem with its many pilgrims processing around with their large wooden crosses especially on what in Arabic is called “Sad Friday.” And on Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, people from all over the world came to process down the Mount of Olives from Bethpage thru Lion’s Gate to Saint Anne’s Cathedral. They sang and danced on the narrow pathway waving their palms. We even had a barefoot Jesus come with his white donkey.
When you march down that ancient steep path you see Jerusalem the way you imagine Jesus saw it--- gleaming in the distance full of promise and hope, yet also then and now--the seat of power. One of the places you pass during your walk is the Franciscan church, Dominus Fleuvet, shaped like a giant tear because it is believed to be the spot where Jesus looked out over the city and wept. That view from the church is one of my favorite holy sites as I can imagine him pausing here and weeping not for his fate to come but for our continued lack of understanding about what makes for peace.
And so, as it was then, and it is true today. We still don’t really get who this nonviolent Jesus was or what he demands of us now. We are still criminalizing political dissent, and persecuting children and their families in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories, and Gaza. By depriving people of their basic human rights which now include medical care, the occupying power is repeating a blood history of oppression and violence.
If Jesus were indeed to return to the world, to Jerusalem, this is what he would see---another military occupation mistreating the occupied, another imperial power trying to squash dissent through unjust laws and imprisonment. And Jerusalem, the city of the prophets, still running with blood.
This Palm Sunday there will be no walking down the Mount of Olives, no ecumenical services on Maundy Thursday at the Russian Orthodox Church of Mary Magdalene, or Good Friday walks through the Old City on the Via Dolorosa, or even Easter at Holy Sepulcher. The City is in lock down just like we are. But this doesn’t mean we are excused from our spiritual call to accompany Him all the way to the cross. We are in a time of a world- wide pandemic in which we are literally fearing for our lives and commanded thus to “shelter in place” to flatten the curve. We are living in a time where we can’t meet to worship or even pass out palms.
In spite of this Dear Ones, the Passion Story of Jesus’ betrayal and suffering still calls us to throw our coats on the ground, to wave our palms, and sing Hosanna today, “Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord (Psalm 118).”
We are invited to accompany all whose lives have become constricted, restricted, or targeted. We are called to stay awake and pray for each other and the planet we are destroying day by day. We are summoned to bear that heavy cross by choosing to live in compassion with those now dying daily, to see in them Him calling out, weeping, and rising up. And finally, we are called to roll away all the stones that entomb us, to practice resurrection daily.
Blessed is the one that
knows our limitations,
who pours out his love for us,
into us so we can be
guardians of truth
protectors of justice
architects of peace.
Amen.
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