Love and Sacrifice

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

April 2, 2023

Year A: The Sunday of the Passion – Palm Sunday

Matthew 21:1-11

Isaiah 50:4-9

Psalm 31:9-16

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 27:11-54

Love and Sacrifice

If we’ve done our job right, you should be feeling a little unsettled right now.

Maybe a lot unsettled.

Because today is the most unsettling day of the Christian year.

Many of us began today’s journey outside.

Unlike the people of Jerusalem two thousand years ago, we knew that our journey would lead quickly to the Cross.  And yet, there was still a sense of excitement and, even, strangely enough, joy.

Everyone loves a parade, after all, and the presence of two donkeys made it even more fun.

So, like the people of Jerusalem two thousand years ago, we carried and waved our palms, we sang our hosannas, and we made our way.

Two thousand years ago, Jerusalem was a city shaken by turmoil.

The Jewish people chafed under oppressive Roman rule.

And, especially during the days before Passover when Jewish pilgrims arrived from all over, there was an unsettled air in the city – a combustible mix of hope and anxiety. The unsettled people dared to hope that their God of liberation was about to act again.

Just as God had freed God’s people from slavery in Egypt, just as God had returned God’s people from exile in Babylon, maybe God was about to overthrow the Romans and put a new king on Israel’s throne.

No surprise, there were some would-be messiahs around, eagerly auditioning for the part of savior.

But some people thought that this Jesus of Nazareth just might be that new and long-awaited king.

Now, it’s true that he was from out in the sticks and he clearly was not a mighty warrior, but hadn’t he given sight to the man born blind and hadn’t he raised Lazarus from the dead?

And, besides, everybody knew that God had a long history of choosing highly unlikely and seemingly unqualified people for the biggest jobs.

So, maybe, just maybe, these unsettled people thought, maybe Jesus was their King, finally entering his capital city.

Well, the mood in the city quickly changed.

The Jewish authorities were desperate to keep an uneasy peace with the Roman occupiers, a peace threatened by talk of Jesus as King of the Jews.

And the Romans – Pontius Pilate sounds kind of wishy-washy in the Passion Story but the historical reality was quite different – the Romans probably calculated that Jesus and his band of followers were no threat to their power – but it was their practice to brutally crush any sign of protest or dissent, a pointed warning to any troublemakers.

The unsettled people quickly realized that Jesus of Nazareth was not going to lead an army into battle and drive the Romans into the sea.

Instead, to everyone’s disappointment and disgust, Jesus submitted to Roman authority.

And, since no one likes a loser, the people turned against him.

And Jesus, abandoned by his friends, mocked and rejected, feeling forsaken by everybody, maybe even by God the Father, died a horrifying and shameful death on a cross, beside two bandits.

And that was the end of the story.

Or so it seemed.

Each year on this day, and during the week ahead, we remember the events in Jerusalem two thousand years ago.

We use symbolic actions like carrying palms and participating in the Passion Story not as some kind of historical reenactment but as a way for us to enter into the story as fully as we can.

To be honest, this year I find that it doesn’t take much effort to enter into this story, because, just like the people of Jerusalem two thousand years ago, I feel unsettled. 

We, too, live in a land shaken by turmoil.  

Just about every day, we are reminded that there are many angry, frightened, disturbed, and armed-to-the-teeth people all around us – people who, on a regular and sickening basis, act on their delusions and hatreds, act on the lies they’ve been so cynically fed, and they take innocent life – innocent life at the Covenant School in Nashville, innocent life at so many other schools, and at houses of worship and movie theaters and clubs – not to mention the lives violently taken on the streets and in the homes of Baltimore and in cities and towns across our land.

And, almost as terrifying as the violence itself, we are growing numb to it, becoming fatalistic – we hear and maybe even believe that there’s nothing to be done, this problem just can’t be fixed – so, arm yourselves and circle the wagons – and, maybe, let’s falsely blame some of the most vulnerable people among us as the source of all our trouble.

And so, in our unsettled time, in our land shaken by turmoil, some of us look for a would-be messiah - someone to solve our problems, to drive out our enemies, to return us to bygone days of supposed glory.

But as Christians – and two thousand years after the events in Jerusalem – we really should know better by now.

There is no savior but Jesus – King Jesus riding a humble donkey – riding among us unsettled people, riding right into our place of turmoil.

King Jesus offers only himself.

King Jesus offers only love and sacrifice.

Let’s face it, love and sacrifice - that never gets the crowds pumped up. But it’s the only way – it’s the only way out of the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.

King Jesus calls us to follow his example, to offer ourselves, because it is truly the only way to new life. 

Today we feel so unsettled and our land is in turmoil.

But, despite our many troubles, we must not lose hope. 

After all, two thousand years ago, the people of Jerusalem were sure that they had seen the last of Jesus of Nazareth. 

Amen.