Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, April 2, 2023
Today is Palm Sunday, the day in the Christian calendar which marks the point in the gospel stories when Jesus and his follower came into the city of Jerusalem, in a dramatic way, and people waved palm branches and laid them down in the road, as signs of their reverence for this humble prophet.
It’s likely that this scene never happened, at least not how it’s described. When I took a course on the gospel of Mark, the earliest of the four gospels, our teacher would begin class by saying: “Repeat after me; Mark is not accurate history. It is a good story, proclaiming the gospel.” Gospel means good news. And what is the good news of this week in which we remember that Jesus was accused, betrayed, mocked, tortured, and killed? And what does it have to say about this world we are living in, where people get guns and go into schools and kill children and teachers? That’s what I want to explore with you today.
One of the problems with the Bible is that many people tend to take it literally, and out of context. Bible scholar John Dominic Crossan says we get it all wrong. “My point,” he says, “is not that those ancient people told literal stories and we are now smart enough to take them symbolically, but that they told them symbolically and we are now dumb enough to take them literally.”
The invitation is to look at the Jesus story symbolically, and wonder if it has anything to teach us for living in these days. This prophet and teacher, who our forebears thought enough of to put this beautiful image of him up here, front and center, he was a teacher and healer who spent his life caring for common people and questioning authority. His power and allure came from knowing that he was God’s beloved. People were attracted to this liberating way of living. That’s why they followed him. How might our lives be different if we moved through our days assured that we are loved, just as we are? Trusting, as one song puts it, “The power of the universe knows my name.” Isn’t this what Jesus came to teach, and why he’s still relevant? Because we still need to learn how to live this way.
Two thousand years later, we’re still trying to learn this simple truth, this theology of nobody left behind. And the church hasn’t helped, by turning his openhearted message into a theology of “you’re in or you’re out.” The church made this simple man into a king, into God, when it’s pretty certain Jesus never saw himself that way. He was someone trying to live a good life, and trying to empower others to do the same. And like other courageous prophets, he spoke truth to power, he threatened the status quo, and they killed him.
So what message do we take from his suffering and death? It is to keep your head down, and stay out of trouble? Is it to go along and get along? Is it to be a reckless seeker of trouble, with a death wish? Or is it more complex and subtle than this? Listen to these familiar words Jesus said:
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:3-10).
Jesus was not the only one persecuted prophet. Wasn’t Martin Luther King, Jr. a contemporary prophet and Christ-like figure? A person called to lead because the times needed someone like him? Someone who rose to the challenge of the moment, who inspired and encouraged common people to believe that their lives could be different, who challenged the status quo and spoke truth to power. Someone who called out the brokenness and injustice and violence in our culture and called us to change. And who was killed because of it.
I often wonder why Jesus went to Jerusalem, the seat of power, when he had a good ministry out in the countryside, with the common people. Why did he head toward trouble? And why Rev. Dr. King go to Memphis, and other places in the South, where knew he was hated? I expect they both would say, “I had to go. They needed me.”
Reflecting on this kind of faithful journey, Jan Richardson writes
“It can be challenging enough to walk with intention into a future that is unknown. But to move with purpose toward a destination that is known, and fearsome? That is quite a different path, one that requires grace and courage we cannot conjure on our own.
“Such a path offers a curious freedom, too, because it invites us to enter our future not as victims, helpless before our fate, but with intention and discernment, knowing that the path we choose—any path we choose—will hold its occasions of dying and rising. When we can meet those occasions with courage and grace, the perils of the chosen path begin to lose their power over us.”
Isn’t this what is needed in these days? Courage and grace. The courage to travel the way that lies before us, its light and its shadow. The grace to extend our love and care not just to our friends, but even to those we think of as enemies. The grace to extend that love within, so we don’t judge ourselves more harshly than we do our companions.
It would be so easy to fall into despair at the state of our culture, with its tendency toward anxiety and polarization. To give up, when there’s a tragedy or disaster, or one more mass shooting, like the one that happened this week in Nashville. Yes, we need to grieve and feel the pain and heartache of all the suffering. And yes, we need to do what we can, where we are, to help make things better. Courageous and goodhearted people are so needed right now! In families, in workplaces, in community groups, in government.
And this is nothing new. Way back in the early part of the Hebrew scriptures, God says to the people, “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live” (Deut. 30:19).
Rebecca Parker reminds us that we have this power, and this choice: to bless or to curse:
Choose to bless the world (she writes).
The choice to bless the world is more than an act of will,
A moving forward into the world
With the intention to do good.
It is an act of recognition, a confession of surprise, a grateful acknowledgment
That in the midst of a broken world
Unspeakable beauty, grace and mystery abide.
There is an embrace of kindness that encompasses all life, even yours.
And while there is injustice, anesthetization, or evil
There moves
A holy disturbance,
A benevolent rage,
A revolutionary love,
Protesting, urging, insisting
That which is sacred will not be defiled.
Jesus went to Jerusalem. Martin went to Memphis. They headed toward trouble, rather than running from it. Because they knew that they were part of a larger story, a revolutionary love, a holy disturbance protesting, urging, insisting: that which is sacred will not be defiled.
My spiritual companions, this is what we do. We travel our journeys, carrying on with grace and courage. When the pandemic shut everything down, you doubled your efforts at feeding the hungry outside our doors. When another school and community is devastated by a shooting, our choir sings about peace, like welcome rain, falling freely down to heal our land, dry and parched from hated and violence. When we feel isolated and discouraged, we gather in circles to listen to and tell our stories, and we gather as a community, as we are right now, to see one another, to sense the Holy in our midst, to lift our voices in thanks and praise.
This is the spirit of the journey Jesus and his friends made to Jerusalem. It’s the spirit Martin Luther King, Jr. and his many companions made as they moved toward civil rights. It is the spirit of the journey we are on, the journey toward liberation. It’s a journey of hope, that even in times of despair, we can hold on, and carry on, with courage and grace. This is what faithful people do, and have done, down through the ages; help bend the arc of our world toward goodness and justice. To trust that even as we pass through the shadows, we will remember and hold fast to the invitation: in a Good Friday world, to be Easter people.
Now and forever,
Amen.