Palm Sunday, April 1, 2007
Palm Sunday is a day of special intensity—it is a day we do things we do not ordinarily do, and hear things we usually don’t hear. We listen to the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and death only one Sunday a year. We hear it the Sunday before Easter because without that, the resurrection simply does not make very much sense; we only hear it only this one Sunday because if we listen hard, if we listen deeply, that is about all we can handle.
Perhaps the clearest note of Palm Sunday is that of rejection. On the one hand, there is the obvious rejection that runs through all of today’s service. During this liturgy we have twice acted the part of the crowd in Jerusalem. Using their words, we have made two demands. The first we said in the Parish Hall, when we shouted ‘Hosanna’, which means ‘save us’, ‘save us now’, to Jesus. The second was just minutes ago, same crowd, probably about the same enthusiasm, but ‘Hosanna’ had become ‘crucify Him!’; and instead of talking to Jesus, we were talking about him. That’s because Jesus had not done what was expected from him and wanted from him. He had not delivered to the crowd’s satisfaction.
This is the great rejection of Palm Sunday, the one that continues every time we discover that life is not the way we want it to be and move our attention from Christ to some one or some thing that might offer quicker—and more pleasant—relief from whatever we think ails us. This rejection is what ties our lives to the life of that crowd in Jerusalem; and makes every day a potential Palm Sunday. It can help us to see who we are, and who we need to become.
But there are some other rejections going on in this story as well, not rejections of Jesus; but rejections by Jesus.
By looking at what our Lord disavows—by listening to his Word of ‘No’ rather than our own, we can perhaps move more deeply into the mystery of his passion.
The first rejection occurred in Gethsemane. |While Jesus was being arrested one of the disciples drew his sword and began to fight—and Jesus said ‘No’ to that. Jesus rejected that. He did this from choice, not from weakness—if he had chosen the way of armed rebellion, Jesus quite likely could have won. ||Remember his temptations in the wilderness; the one when Satan offered Jesus all the kingdoms of the world if Jesus would but worship him. The disciple who drew his sword in the garden is offering a similar temptation. It is the temptation to use whatever methods are handy and effective in order to reach a desired end. In Gethsemane, Jesus is invited to use violence, to use the way of the world—and so protect himself and his mission. It is when Jesus rejects this invitation to violence that his disciples flee, and he taken by force.
Later, as Jesus is on trial before the Chief Priests, Herod, and Pilate, we see his second rejection. All of these, representing both Israel and Rome, demand of Jesus a legal defense—they are asking him to come aboard, to play their game. ||And by his silence Jesus again says ‘No’. Remember, this is the same Jesus who has so often baffled and bested the same scribes and Pharisees, who has so many times turned accusations into opportunities to teach, and who has, with apparent effortlessness, avoided every legal and rhetorical trap the very cleverest of his enemies had set for him. Jesus doubtless could have offered a wonderful defense. He could have turned their stones, their weapons, into his bread, his own defense. But, instead of that, there is silence—his rhetorical genius stands mute. And so the Son of Man is found guilty and sentenced, once more, the victim of methods he chooses not to use.
Jesus’ final rejection occurs on the cross. In words almost identical to those of the tempter, the crowd taunts—"If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself." When he first heard them, the words were "If you are the son of God, throw yourself down." (from the pinnacle of the temple). The point is the same—give us a sign, give us a show. Compel us to believe by the magical, by the miraculous.
And in a final sign of what his life and his death are really all about, Jesus refuses, again by silence, this last opportunity to use that power the world craves. So, forsaken at last even by God—with absolutely nothing to offer but himself—the Lamb of God cried out, and died.
With that cry, Jesus has rejected every form of coercive power available to him. He has rejected the power of armies and swords; the power of persuasion, argument and rhetoric; and finally the magical, ostentatious, and spectacular powers of another reality. None of these is part of bringing in, or living out, the Kingdom of God. All the sources of power that hurt, that force, that compel—these are denied—these are denied even if used for the very best, the very highest, of goals.
The real point is that, once these are rejected, there is nothing left but love. All that remains is total self-giving love in obedience to the Father. And if we Christians ever, for an instant, wonder what we mean when we talk about love—remember—this, this cross and God incarnate hanging upon it, this is what we mean. Anything less is useless romanticism.
And one of the things we learn from the cross is that we are given one instrument, one tool, one weapon if you will, with which to be the continuing physical presence of Jesus in the world. We are given love, and we are shown what that love looks like. We are not, thanks be to God, left with only our own ability to love. What we are given is our own willingness to love, joined with Jesus’ love, strengthened and renewed by His love. And the cross is always the model.
Remember, the cross is not an isolated abhorrent anomaly; it is not some rude interruption in the movement from God to us. Instead, it is the culmination of Jesus’ life and ministry—for in that cross we see who Jesus is and who he calls us to be. We see love that has nothing to offer but itself—no armies to lead, no bureaucracies to help, no magical rabbits to pull out of hats; only love that gives itself until everything is gone and then keeps on giving. This is what life is really all about. Behold, the power of God.
All that is left is love, after everything has been done, and after everything else has been rejected, all that is left is love—this kind of love. And that is enough.
Today's Lessons: Isaiah 45.21-25; Psalm 22.1-11; Philippians 2.5-11; Luke 22.39--23.56
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Fr. Jim Liggett
P.O. Box 2949; Big Spring, TX 79721
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This page last updated on April 01, 2007