Passion, Palms and Belief

A Sermon for Palm Sunday - The Sunday of The Passion

April 5, 2020

Broadcast on Facebook Live

What does it take for you to believe? Why do you believe what you believe?

Whenever I read Matthew’saccount of the Passion, I find myself asking that question of every single character. From the governor to the people in the crowd; the two bandits crucified with him, and the bystanders and the centurion, Matthew describes each on as not just disbelieving but some are sarcastic, some are mean, others are cruel.

The people of Jerusalem greeted Jesus with shouts of Hosanna! They believed him to be the Messiah, the Savior, but not of their souls. They believed he was coming to save them from Roman occupation and oppression. When they saw that he was not able to save himself, they no longer believed what they wanted to believe and their excitement and fervor turned cold and cruel.

It’s hard to know what to believe when things are happening quickly. It’s even more difficult to know what to believe when what’s happening involves suffering and death. And, when it’s not the message you want to believe, or have come to expect, the sense of disbelief can lead to a sense of disorientation.

We see that dynamic over and over again in Matthew’s narrative of the Passion. It’s a very human response, unlimited and unencumbered by culture or class, religion or creed, race or ethnicity. We recognize it because we have seen it in our own lives – especially in the past few weeks of the COVID-19 pandemic.

I don’t know about you but not being able to be together for Palm Sunday and Holy Week is not just devastating it is disorienting. This week known as Holy Week is one of my spiritual and emotional anchors. Without all the familiar readings, all the familiar rituals and sacred ceremonies, well, it has not been well with my soul.

I have found myself re-examining why I believe what I believe. Is it just a force of habit? A convenience? Just the way I’ve always done it? Or, do I really believe the stories that have given shape and form to my faith?

I am learning that my faith is strong enough to carry me through these strange days of “social distancing” and worship outside of the church building. Indeed, I’m discovering that my faith is strong enough to risk doing something creative in order to give a new, different liturgical expression to the stories that are the foundation of my faith.

I have come to believe that we will emerge from this terrible time of anxiety and fear, suffering and death with a stronger faith, and a deeper appreciation for the stories upon which our faith is built.

I’m remembering a less stressful time when I first learned this. It was my first year as a Chaplain at Lowell in MA. Palm Sunday and Holy Week coincided with Spring Break that year. I didn’t think any students would come to a special afternoon service I was holding on Palm Sunday, but I gathered up some palms and sat in my office, promising myself that I would wait no more than 20 minutes and then lock up and head home.

His name was James. He actually came in 5 minutes early. Alone. So, he and I decided to read the Passion not in parts, but alternating paragraphs, which made sense. When we began to read about the scourging, his voice got thick and his pace slowed. Finally, he stopped. When I looked up at him, he had tears streaming down his face.

“I never knew,” he sobbed. “I’ve heard this story in church but never realized. . . until I read it for myself . . . until I walked in his suffering with him . . . and took the story not just in my head but into my heart . . . . This . . .,” he said, “This.. . . Changes.. . . Everything.”

Palm Sunday is also known as The Sunday of the Passion. When we walk in the ways of Christ’s suffering, when we take it into our hearts, it is transformative. Our lives change. We are never again the same. By entering more deeply into the suffering of Jesus, we share more fully in his resurrection.

There’s an old saying that faith isn’t faith until it’s all you’re holding onto. It’s in times such as these that the truth of that aphorism is revealed.

I hope you are able to explore the sense of disconnection and disorientation and find new ways to understand the bond and bearings of your faith.

I hope you take this time of separation from the church building and our friends in our faith communities to read again, for yourselves, the story of the Passion of Jesus. I hope you are able to hear the story in a new way, without listening to someone else tell it to you.

As you read Matthew’s narrative of the Passion of Jesus and watch the very human drama unfold in ancient times, I hope you take this time to ask yourselves, “What do I believe? Why do I believe what I believe?”

May we all come through this most Holy Week changed and transformed and never again the same.

Amen.