Towards the tomb
The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, April 10, 2022
The Liturgy of the Palms: Luke 19:28-40
Philippians 2:5-11 • Psalm 31:9-16 • Luke 23:1-49
And so: here we are. The wild enthusiasm of the cheering crowd has gone silent. The man they celebrated as the Son of David hangs lifeless on a cross.
If we feel confused and upset, that’s exactly right. We should be confused and upset. Something appalling has happened.
I’m not going to make things better for you. That’s not my job. It has cost Jesus absolutely everything to take us to this place. Let’s not squander any of it.
As Jesus prepared to enter Jerusalem, he knew exactly how it was going to play out. He could have chosen to start that ball rolling on an ordinary, quiet day, when the city wasn’t filled with Jews gathering to celebrate the Passover. But if you’re going to sacrifice everything for a larger good, you’d better make sure that you get the biggest bang for your buck.
Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey in a dramatic re-enactment of King David’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem, a thousand years previously. A fact not missed by the crowds who were longing for another David who would be their Messiah. Jesus knew that both the Jewish and the Roman leadership in the city were desperately trying to avoid a Jewish rebellion in Jerusalem that would undoubtedly attract the attention of the Emperor. Jesus knew that the leaders would do whatever they needed to eliminate anyone who might stir up the people. He knew that the Roman punishment for a Jew inciting a rebellion was crucifixion. There would be no reprieve once the crowds started cheering in the streets. The new vision of ‘a world remade and a new song for all creation’, as expressed in this morning’s collect was going to collide with ‘the violence of empire’ and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
Had Jesus changed his mind, escaped, lived out his years in some Galilean backwater, we would not be here today. The violence of the crucifixion was a necessary precursor to the revelation of the incomprehensible wonder of the resurrection. And it is the resurrection, the manifest triumph of love and life over death, that has been the inspiration for this faith that we call Christianity.
This Palm Sunday service is a challenging one for all of us. The whiplash from beginning with the entrance into Jerusalem, and the subsequent gallop through the events of the week is enough to shock any of us.
I urge each of you to take the opportunity that this most Holy Week offers. It meets us wherever we are, anywhere from mild curiosity to passionate engagement, and leads us inexorably through the narrow streets of that ancient city to Golgotha, and then to the silent tomb.
We do not willingly let ourselves be taken into the darkness. If we could choose, we avoid it at all costs. How about we make some noise, open the windows and the doors, get out and party instead? But that is not what this week asks of us. This week tells us that, yes, the joy of Easter is absolutely coming. But we won’t be able to break out into the sunshine with our bells ringing unless we have sat in the tomb first.
So often in life the darkness is indeed there waiting for us and we don’t have a choice. We don’t even know if we’ll be able to escape. The gift of this week is that we can walk, day by day, into that tomb, carrying all our anguish and our burdens in the certainty that next Saturday evening at the Easter Vigil, our stones will be rolled away, and we will walk out together in the blazing light of the new fire into a new day filled with joy into:
“a world remade and a new song for all creation, through Jesus Christ, the Crucified God. Amen”