In the name of God ☩ Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
Today,
we enter into the Holy Week – that week in which remember and enter anew into
the drama of our salvation that culminates at the Cross and empty tomb. As we
prayed during the Liturgy of the Palms, the aim of our liturgies this week is
to guide us in joyfully contemplating on the mighty and saving acts of Jesus
Christ. This year, unlike every other year, most of us actually have the time
to do this. No one is away on Spring Break vacation. Many people are working
from home, and most of us have extra time as our commutes are now from the
bedroom to the kitchen table. We always offer a robust set of liturgies in Holy
Week, and I sincerely encourage you to join in worship and contemplation this
week. For one, we all could use an extra dose of God’s grace in this time of
the Coronavirus. And secondly, because of these new rhythms of life, we have
the opportunity to participate more fully in worship this week.
As
we go through this week, we’ll see that it’s a week full of contradictions and
unexpected outcomes. This is because, in the words of the prophet Isaiah: God’s
thoughts are not our thoughts and God’s ways are not ours, for as the heavens
are higher than the earth, so are God’s ways and thoughts higher than ours.
Holy Week revolves around the mystery of our salvation and the depths of God’s
love for us. But these events are contradictory to our expectations. The reason
why we know these events to be saving is that, in God’s infinite goodness and
mercy, God has revealed to us in Scripture and Tradition this saving grace.
On
Palm Sunday, we are at the start of this journey into contemplating the mighty
acts of God in Christ and we begin with a parade. When Jesus makes it into the
city, people are asking, “Who is this?” And the response is, “This is the
prophet, Jesus.” It’s helpful to remember that in Holy Week Jesus is a prophet.
Now, a prophet does two things: foretelling and forthtelling. We see Jesus the
foreteller on display when he tells the disciples that they will find a donkey tied,
and a colt with her. The disciples find it to be just as Jesus described. We
are told that this fulfilled an earlier prophecy. And this takes us to the
second way to understand a prophet: as a forthteller. Prophecy isn’t about
predicting the future, that’s a misunderstanding of prophecy. Instead, prophecy
is about making connections and recognizing patterns. Prophets connect actions
to consequences, they reveal hidden truths and correlations, they point to us
towards the deeper meaning of events, and this is what Jesus does, and indeed
all of the Biblical prophets with him.
As
a prophet, throughout Holy Week, Jesus shows us the deepest truths of God. You
see, without Jesus, we might naturally think of God as something like Zeus –
something of a strongman who sits on a throne with really large biceps. But we
have a very different picture here. Instead of arriving into Jerusalem in a
horse-drawn chariot with swords blazing, Jesus arrives on a donkey. There’s
nothing regal or imposing about riding on a donkey. This is the first
contradiction that we see – that salvation comes not through strength or might,
but lowliness and weakness. We heard this in Philippians, that though Jesus is
God, he humbled himself and became obedient even to death. It seems
contradictory to say that God is obedient or lowly, but that is exactly how we
see Jesus on Palm Sunday. God acts in unexpected ways and places.
The
next surprise comes in the second Gospel text which picks up right where the
entrance into Jerusalem left off. And a quick note on the lessons today. Our
Bishop has granted permission to not read the Passion Gospel this Sunday since
nearly everyone will be able to attend online church on Good Friday. I’ve
always said that Palm Sunday should stand on its own, so am happy that we can
actually do that this year. And having the text we read at the Gospel is so
very helpful in understanding what is going on in Holy Week. You’ll remember
that the Jewish people were living under occupation as the Romans ruled over
the Promised Land. The hope was that a Messiah would come and liberate the
people from the Roman oppression. So, when Jesus entered the city, many
expected him to go to the Roman military station that was next to the Temple.
But, as we heard in the Gospel text, that’s not where Jesus goes. He makes an
unexpected turn into the Temple itself.
And
when he enters, he doesn’t start recruiting zealots for an uprising. No, he
turns over some tables of moneychangers and tells people that the Temple isn’t
supposed to be about transactions with God, it’s supposed to be about
relationship with God. Then, Jesus does not preach a sermon against the
injustices of Roman occupation. Instead, he turns his attention to the
marginalized and heals the blind and the lame. It’s a signal to us that God is
never too busy to heal us. And in these
actions, it’s becoming clear that salvation is going to look different than we’d
imagine.
What
happens next is a small detail in the text that I’ll admit I had never noticed.
It only shows up in Matthew’s rendering of this incident in the Temple. Matthew
records that what really angered the Temple authorities was when they heard the
children crying out, “Hosanna to the Son of David.” That’s exactly what had
been shouted during the entry parade into the city. The children were mimicking
what they heard the adults shouting earlier. Jesus, quoting Psalm 8, says “Have
you not heard, ‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babes you have
prepared praise.’?” How important this lesson is for us all – children will
learn lessons from us. They are watching us. They are learning from us. They
are mirroring ourselves back to us.
During
this Coronavirus pandemic there have been many different responses to the
question – What should the church be doing? Some churches are not doing
anything and directing their members to watch content produced by larger and
more well-equipped congregations. Some are doing Moring Prayer and others are
doing Holy Eucharist. To be clear, I don’t think any of these is wrong, misguided,
or uninformed. I have my theological, pastoral, and practical reasons for
keeping the Eucharist going, but the sermon isn’t the place I want to make that
case. Instead, what matters is that we keep going.
The
things that we are during, and not doing, during this pandemic matter. Worship,
praising God, setting aside time for prayer, being generous with our financial
resources – now, more than ever, these things matter. The deposit that we made
at the church this last week was actually very good, so this isn’t a lecture,
it’s a thank you. Thank you for keeping the support coming in so we aren’t
having to have difficult discussions about finances. You all are caring for one
another in amazing ways – making masks for the medical community, helping those
who need food, and checking on each other. St. Luke’s is a family and you all
make me so proud of how you’re doing this even from afar.
The whole staff
has been doing amazing work during this time. Caroline is keeping Children’s
Church going online and many families are participating in that – it gladdens
my heart to know that. Parents are recognizing the importance of this moment in
raising their children in the faith. Worship, absolutely, is “essential” and teaching
that to our children is so vitally important, so thank you, parents and grandparents,
of St. Luke’s, for doing that.
Caroline has also
taken us from zero online worship to one of the better broadcasts out there and
deserves all the recognition that we can give her for this. Tracey is working
diligently to keep the office on track and has gotten us to now having online giving. Marcus is ensuring that the building and grounds are not
neglected during this time. Matt is providing stellar music in a very different
set of circumstances that he planned for – he’s doing a very commendable job on
adapting, sometimes day to day, based on the changes. And Bonnie is continuing in
providing spiritual leadership and making sure that people are cared for. Their
examples are noted and inspire us in rising to the occasion.
And you all are
sharing the links to our online worship with family, friends, coworkers, and
neighbors – and that is wonderful. I can tell from the number of views on our
videos and comments that people who would not otherwise be at St. Luke’s are
joining us for worship – and that is an amazing thing. Thank you for your
evangelism and if you are joining us for the first time in this age of online
worship, we are so incredibly glad to have you with us and hope to see you face
to face at some point.
Staying
home is hard. Acolytes, ushers, readers, choir members, altar guild, Sunday
school teachers – these are not things people do because they must. These are
ministries that you all participate in because you love and care for your
church. You do these things as a way of serving God. And in this time, you
can’t do those things because right now, as ironic as it sounds, the way to
love your neighbor is to stay away from your neighbor. Sometimes not doing
things is as important as doing them and your sacrifices are an example of how
we are loving our neighbors.
Like
Holy Week, there are a lot of contradictions in this pandemic. Communities are
growing when they can’t gather. More people are attending church when they
can’t leave their homes. In a time of fear, compassion is on the rise. It is my
prayer that this pandemic reshapes our priorities, our commitments, our norms
once this is all over. And just as those children in the Temple mimicked what
they saw others doing, this is a moment when the Church being the Church more
than doing “church” can have an impact on our society. So keep doing the good
work that you’re doing.
And even in your
struggles, even in those moments where you are losing your sanity, feeling
depressed, yelling at your spouse or children, snacking out of boredom – you
are a holy and righteous example because you’re taking the time to tune into
worship. Like those children shouting in the Temple, we cry out for God. Their
shout, “Hosanna,” means “God, save us.”
We worship because
we want to give thanks for the blessings of this life, because we need to ask
for forgiveness, because we need God’s grace to make it another day, because we
need God to save us. And that, too, is a great lesson that I hope people will
get from the Church – that for all the good work that we may do, we’re also a
hospital for the sick, a place where mercy can be found, where questions can be
asked, where a love that passes all understanding can be felt. When people feel
like they’re at the end of their ropes, our cries of “Hosanna – God save us”
shows them that there is a place come to cry when they are
broken, to find strength when they are weak, to find peace when they are a
mess, to find acceptance when they feel rejected, to plead “save me” when they
feel helpless. Our neediness, unexpectedly, can be our greatest strength, as
those are the moments when we most fully put our trust in God.
And we’ll see all of
this as Holy Week unfolds, that God’s grace meets us in the lowly and unexpected
places of life. The great example will come a week from now, when Death leads
to Resurrection. But before we get there, we’ll be reminded of how fickle we
are, as our shouts of “Hosanna” will turn to “Crucify.” It is in these moments
of contradictions that the mercy of God breaks through our lives. So this holy
week, give yourself over to worshipping and contemplating our salvation and let
yourself be caught off guard by God’s amazing grace coming from unexpected
places. Amen.
