A Beautiful Sight! -- An Easter Sermon

Matthew 28:1-10

Over time the cross has evolved from being a means of torture and execution to a fashionable piece of jewelry. Crosses can come in gold or silver, plain or bejewelled, and if you didn’t know better, you’d never believe that this cross that people wear around their necks or on their ears was once one of the most feared and despised forms of execution devised by humanity. Its message was so powerful that the Romans reserved the cross for rebels and troublemakers.

It’s easy for us to forget the meaning of the cross since it no longer functions as a means of tortuous death, which is why it’s important to observe Good Friday before we celebrate Easter. Before we can appreciate the beauty of Easter, we must take in the ugliness of the cross upon which Jesus died. The cross upon which Jesus hung, reminds us of the ugliness is present in our world – war, segregation, prejudice, self-centeredness, anger, and hatred, to name but a few. As we contemplate the cross, we recognize that as Jesus hung on the cross, he was experiencing all of that ugliness that is present in human culture. And, as the prophet wrote centuries earlier:

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was on him; and with his stripes we are healed. (Is. 53:5 KJV)

This is the truth that is revealed on Good Friday, and which is given voice in the ancient hymn of Bernard of Clairvaux:

O Sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,

now scornfully surrounded with thorns, thine only crown;

how pale thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn!

This is the message that gives context to our celebration of Easter.

1. A sign of New Life

With the cross behind us and the empty tomb before us, it’s time to celebrate the triumphant message of Easter. Yes:

The Tomb is empty. Sound the Trumpet.

The Lord is risen! Sound the trumpets!

In this declaration, we hear the good news that death has given way to life.

I realize that there are those who believe that Easter is simply a baptized pagan holiday that celebrates the coming of spring. While it’s true that the word Easter may derive from the name of a long forgotten German goddess, whose spring festival involved eggs and bunnies, that doesn’t mean that connecting spring with resurrection isn’t appropriate, maybe even providential. Spring, after all, does remind us that life emerges out of winter’s deathly grasp. Spring flowers, birds chirping, and squirrels scurrying, all remind us that the promise of the gospel is that life triumphs over death. As Paul put it:

Since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead came through one too. In the same way that everyone dies in Adam, so everyone will be made alive in Christ. (1 Cor. 15:21-22 CEB).

With these images in mind, we come to Matthew's account of the empty tomb. Going back to Good Friday, we remember that after Jesus gave up the fight on the cross, crying out to God: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me,” Joseph of Arimathea got permission from Pilate to place Jesus’ body in his tomb. Now, three days later, the story shifts to that tomb. Two women, both named Mary, go out early in the morning to the tomb, but unlike Mark and Luke, Matthew doesn’t tell us why they went to the tomb. The women of Matthew’s gospel don’t have spices to anoint the body, so we’re not sure why they came. Maybe they wanted to pay their last respects or maybe they came to grieve. Or, maybe, these women went hoping that Jesus’ promise of resurrection was true.

Whatever they expected to find when they got to the tomb, they found the stone rolled away and an angel sitting on top of that stone. As Matthew tells it, an earthquake knocked the stone away from the tomb and an angel appeared from the heavens, with a countenance like that of lightning, and clothes as white as snow. So dazzling was the appearance of the angel that the guards, who’d been posted at the tomb to prevent any skulduggery, fainted in fear and then ran away. But the women, although they may have been frightened themselves, remain steadfast and don't run away. What an interesting contrast between fear and faith!

And then the angel brings them a message: "Don't be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised!" And then the angel says to them, perhaps responding to the kinds of questions that we all have at moments like this: "Come, see where they laid him." Yes, come and see something amazing, something that’s beyond human comprehension! Something grander than the grandest sunset. Come and take in a beautiful sight!

There are many debates about the resurrection. Is it a physical reality or a vision in the hearts of Jesus’ followers? Marcus Borg and N.T. Wright have had a long back and forth about this issue, but however we decide to define this event, the message is clear: something happened that day that transformed a discouraged band of followers into powerful witnesses to God’s grace and love as it’s revealed in the person of Jesus. However you define the nature of the Resurrection, the good news is that life triumphs over death. The question, then, that Easter poses to us is this: What will you make of the resurrection in your life? What difference does it make in the way you look at life itself?

2. THE JOB AHEAD

This encounter with the angel at the empty tomb raises the question – what will you make of life? But that’s not the only point of the story. Not only are we confronted with this message that life triumphs over death, but the angel gave them and us a job. You see, the angel says to them: "Go quickly and tell his disciples, `He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee’." That is, don't just stand there, get busy and spread the news. “Quickly now, go tell the disciples that Jesus Christ is no longer dead, joy to the world, he is risen, alleluia! . . .” At least that’s the way the “Easter Song” puts it, and with this word of guidance, the women head back to the Upper Room, with heads and hearts filled with wonder and grief. They may not totally understand what had happened, but they knew that something truly amazing had just transpired. Yes, mixed in with the fear and the doubt was an overpowering sense of joy. And as they run back toward the Upper Room, with these mixed feelings, they encounter the risen Lord himself.

When the women see Jesus, they respond by falling at his feet and worshiping him. What else could they do? He was dead and now he’s alive. In their joy and maybe a little disbelief they grab hold of his legs and give praise and thanks to God, for God’s gift of life. Yes, this was a beautiful sight, grander than the Grand Canyon, more wondrous than Crater Lake, and more majestic than Mount McKinley.

This is the sight that stirs in our hearts the joy that rings out in professions of faith like the one we opened worship with: "Christ the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!" In this great hymn of Easter, we respond to Charles Wesley 's invitation to all creation, that creation might "raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!"

In coming with the women to the tomb of Jesus, not only do we discover its emptiness, but we also encounter the life-giving presence of our Lord, who calls on us to bear witness to God’s reconciling grace. This discovery should lead us to declare our faith in God with these words:

"Love's redeeming work is done, Alleluia!

Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!

Death in Vain forbids him rise, Alleluia!

Christ has opened paradise, Alleluia!"

Yes, let us rejoice that in Jesus Christ, death has lost its sting, so that neither death nor hate will reign supreme in our lives and in our world. Alleluia!

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
Easter Sunday
April 24, 2011

Father Forgive Them (The First Word from the Cross) -- Luke 23:32-34

Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

All dressed in his imperial splendor, the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate sits in judgment of Jesus. Surrounding Pilate is a group of Jesus' accusers. It would seem that the governor doesn’t know what to make of Jesus. He appears to be just some kind of religious teacher, but as he listens to the charges he begins to see Jesus in a different light. Maybe this Jewish teacher is really a threat to the stability of his province. If the charges are true, then he will need to take the threat seriously, and that means condemning his prisoner to die on a cross. He comes to this decision after a night of debate and his decision is final; there will be no appeal. It's interesting that Pilate tries to wash his hands of this sordid affair. Isn't that the way it is with the rich and the powerful? They don't like to get their hands dirty.

It is strange to watch Jesus stand before this seat of judgment. Only a few days earlier he'd been acclaimed by the crowds as a deliverer; now he's being sentenced to die a criminal's death on a cross. From our reading of the Gospels, Jesus doesn’t seem to be the type, and yet maybe there is more to the story than meets the eye. Since executions were always public spectacles, the soldiers would have led the prisoners, including Jesus of Nazareth, through the streets of Jerusalem, toward the place of execution. It's a place known to Luke simply as The Skull. Exhausted by the previous night's ordeal, Jesus falls under the weight of the crossbeam. Being in a hurry to finish the job, the soldiers force a pilgrim from Cyrene, a man named Simon, to carry the beam the rest of the way up the hill. That's the way it was in Roman times. The soldiers could force you into labor whenever necessary. Jesus had even commented on this: "If anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile" (Matthew 5:41).

Once they arrive at the execution site, the soldiers lay Jesus out on the cross and nail his body to the posts. They hoist him up into the air so that he would die a slow, humiliating, and painful death. The Romans used this method of execution because they believed that it was a deterrent to rebellion. Watching such a cruel death must have given any potential rebel cause to think twice about engaging the Romans. Jesus may have been deemed "deserving" of this special treatment, but he is not alone in his death. In the words of Isaiah, he "was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors" (Isaiah 53:12). He dies in the company of two others, Isaiah's transgressors. We never learn the nature of their crimes, but perhaps they had been partners with Barabbas, the one released by Pilate, at the request of the people. It's quite likely that these two men had been arrested for stirring up trouble in Jerusalem, just like Barabbas. Maybe they'd killed a soldier of occupation. Theirs was an insurgency designed to run out an oppressive foreign invader. It was for persons like them that the Romans devised this horrific form of execution, and Jesus has been caught in the web. So here between the insurgents, hangs the prince of peace.

As Jesus hung there on the cross, a crown of thorns sat uncomfortably on his head. The crown has symbolic value, but it's also designed to inflict pain. As the thorns dig into his forehead, the blood trickles down his face. His back bleeding from the flogging he had endured during the night adds to his agony. But it was the crush of his weight that forced him to struggle with ever more difficulty to remain upright, which caused him the most physical distress. Still, there he hung, God's suffering servant, the one of whom Isaiah spoke. This one who poured himself out in death "was numbered with the transgressors." (Isaiah. 53:12). Yes, he took his place among us and was counted as one of us, counted as a sinner, and he suffered with us, but for what?

At the foot of the cross one could find a few followers, most of whom were women. Covering their eyes and weeping, they might have moaned out loud, "Oh, how could this happen?" But others jeered at him, both Roman soldier and collaborator from the Jewish establishment. Maybe there were also a few former admirers and some disappointed revolutionaries in this crowd, each voice adding further insult to his humiliation.

Now, as he struggles to catch his breath, Jesus utters his first word from the cross:

"Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Do you hear these words with a sense of disbelief? How can he say this? How can he forgive his tormentors? Yes, how can anyone forgive the ones who have participated in such an evil deed? But, while we recoil from such a thought, Jesus reaches out to his tormentors and offers them words of forgiveness. As we listen to these strange words, we discover that we are included in them. We too are recipients of Jesus' offer of forgiveness.

The recipients of this gracious offer of forgiveness are many, but Jesus begins with the most obvious offenders, the soldiers sitting at the foot of his cross. These are the ones who have just followed orders and have nailed him to this cross. In truth, they probably didn't understand the consequences of what they were doing. They were just doing their jobs. They'd rather be doing something else, but here they were standing guard over some local rebels. Yes, Jesus was just one more rebel who needed to be taught a lesson. They probably weren't even listening as Jesus offered them forgiveness. Even if they were listening, they probably didn't understand Jesus. As he cries out offering them forgiveness, they are busy dispensing with his clothes. It's possible that these soldiers would periodically look up at him and shout insults at him. But then again, they are simply following orders from on high.

There might have been a few Jewish leaders in the crowd as well. These were the collaborators, the one's granted power, not by the people, but by the occupying forces. They saw themselves as protectors of Israel, and they believed that their act of conspiring with the Roman officials was a defense of their nation. Collaboration helped preserve the status quo, but it also kept the nation alive. Did they know what they were doing? The destruction of Jerusalem just a few decades later would seem to support their position. If Jesus was in fact a rebel, then they would be correct in their actions. But Jesus offers them forgiveness.

Finally, there are the seemingly fickle crowds. According to the gospels, the crowd had at first acclaimed him the messiah. But things changed when he didn’t prove to be the hoped for deliverer. So, disillusioned with him they turned on him and when given a choice by Pilate they chose Barabbas instead of Jesus. Which one would you have chosen? I don't know who I would have picked. I'd probably have picked Barabbas too! After all, he seemed to have more potential as a rebel leader. Surely Barabbas would free his people from Roman domination.

To each of these conspirators Jesus offers a word of forgiveness. From the cross he asks God to wipe the slate clean.

Oh yes, there's one last group that needs to be considered. This final group is much larger than the crowd gathered at the foot of the cross. Its numbers exceed calculation and extend into eternity, for in truth, we're all numbered among those standing there calling for his head. We're like a herd of cattle that’s easily stampeded. We act first and think later. We don't think things through because it's safer to go along with the crowd than it is to act independently. It's by our deeds and even by our omission of deeds that we're led to join in crucifying the Son of God.

Our involvement in this act of violence isn't a matter of Jesus serving as our sacrifice designed to placate an angry God -- as Jonathan Edwards would have us believe. Nor does he die to satisfy God's honor, as Anselm believed. Still, we find ourselves in the judge's chamber crying for his head. We do this whenever we hate our brother or sister, or when we push others aside to take our place at the head of the table. It can happen when we refuse to help the hungry and the thirsty among us, because in saying no to our neighbor, we say no to Jesus. And when we say no, we place him on a cross in the hope that we might be done with him. We have no use for his offer of reconciliation, because we have no use for God. In our own sense of self-righteousness, we choose to nail the one who reveals God's love on a cross.

Jesus' offer is a generous one, even if we're not sure why we're included. We're puzzled with the offer he makes to his tormentors, but why would we be included? After all, how often have we said: "I didn't have anything to do with it. It's not my fault. No, I didn't do anything wrong!" The problem isn't with what I did, but with what I didn't do. Yes, my inaction and my neutrality require divine forgiveness. Perhaps we find these words troubling because they're not consistent with the way we deal with life. To our mind, forgiveness requires a recognition that wrong has been done, a recognition that should be followed by repentance and an apology. To our surprise Jesus seems to offer a blanket word of forgiveness -- a general amnesty. Now, while we might find Jesus' words to be strange, they do comport well with his life and with his teachings. He was a person who welcomed the sinner, the outcast, and the marginalized. Perhaps that's why it's so difficult to hear these words -- we don't put ourselves in the place of those needing forgiveness.

But maybe that's not really the issue that baffles us. Perhaps it's the excuse that Jesus makes for his oppressors that throws us off. It just seems too easy and implausible.

Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

Surely they knew what they were doing. And yet, do we always know what we=re doing?

Theologian Karl Rahner gets it right: "Really they knew it all. But they did not want to know it!" We know what we're doing, but we don't want to face the consequences of our thoughts and actions. We have our excuses, but deep down we know that they're hollow. Nevertheless, Jesus reaches out to us and offers us forgiveness. It's as Isaiah says: he has "made intercession for the transgressors" (Isaiah.53: 12), on behalf of all those who would crucify him -- including me. And so, there, on the cross, Jesus acts as our high priest, interceding for us, the transgressors, and excusing us of our ignorance. He excuses us, however, of the ignorance we have often chosen for ourselves. Why, maybe it’s because we cannot grapple with the depths of our crimes.

If it were I, I don't think I could offer such a gracious word of forgiveness. I would want justice done, or at least I'd want to appeal to a higher authority. But Jesus didn't cry out for justice; instead, he offered gentle words of forgiveness. As we stand before the cross, we benefit from his compassionate words: "Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Excerpted from A Cry from the Cross (CSS, 2008)

Death and Resurrection! -- A Lectionary Meditation for Easter

Jeremiah 31:1-6



Colossians 3:1-4


Matthew 28:1-10

Death and Resurrection!

As we once again experience Holy Week, we’re reminded that life emerges from death. There is no better analogy of this truth than the transition from winter to spring, which is why it seems appropriate that Easter and the coming of spring coincide. With spring’s coming, the long dormant flowers and trees suddenly come back to life as spring’s warmth replaces winter’s cold darkness. Surely, we can see the parallels between this and Good Friday/Easter.

Now, of course, there are questions to be addressed when it comes to the Resurrection. David Hume has had his way with us, and we must face the fact that people just don’t rise from the dead every day. Therefore, we don’t have analogies that can truly help us grapple with this article of faith. Is it a physical event or a metaphor? The Gospels speak of empty tombs and appearances, and we even have defenses of the event against charges that the disciples stole the body. Of course there are the discrepancies between the various stories as to when and where and how Jesus appeared to his disciples. Did he meet them in Jerusalem or in Galilee (or both?). We can speculate, but that gets us nowhere. Whatever the nature of this reality – and I personally find myself somewhere between Marcus Borg and N.T. Wright – and the nature of the debates, what we hear in these texts of Easter is a call to confess our faith in the risen Lord. It is a reminder that we don’t serve a dead hero, but a living Lord, who shares with us the fullness of God’s everlasting love.

Ultimately we must hear each witness on its own, listening for its voice, and in this case, for this meditation (and for Sunday’s sermon) I will limit my thoughts to Matthew’s testimony – together with that of Jeremiah and the author of Colossians.

Jeremiah doesn’t explicitly speak to Easter -- there’s no promise of resurrection here, but there is a promise here concerning God’s intention to be present with us forever, sharing with us the everlasting love of God. Now this word goes first and foremost to Israel, which must endure the suffering of exile, but here in Jeremiah 31 comes the promise that God hasn’t forgotten them. God promises to be the God of all Israel, even as they have endured the wilderness. The word that comes to Israel (and to us) is that God has loved Israel with “everlasting love,” and therefore God continues to be faithful to Israel. This confession of God’s faithfulness leads Jeremiah to invite the people to pull out their tambourines and begin to dance like merrymakers. Having heard the promise that Israel will continue to be God’s people and that exile is ending, they are invited to celebrate something that is equivalent to life out of death. But not only will they dance, but they will also plant. Yes, merrymaking leads to work. And from there, the call goes out: “Come, let us go up to Zion, to the Lord our God. All of this, however, is but a sign of God’s everlasting love. As I reflect on this truth, my thoughts go to the point made by Rob Bell in his new and controversial book, wherein, he speaks of God’s desire that all be saved–or reconciled. He writes:

History is about the kind of love a parent has for a child, the kind of love that pursues, searches, creates, connects, and bonds. The kind of love that moves toward, embraces, and always works to be reconciled with, regardless of the cost. [Bell, Love Wins, p. 99].

Jeremiah understands this truth – God seeks out and restores the people to the land, and therefore they will rejoice with song and dancing, and also by planting, by taking possession of the land that is promised. This is, after all, an act of love.

We hear the resurrection story from Matthew’s perspective in this lectionary season (unless you decide to go with John’s version). In this version of the story, Mary Magdalene and another Mary go to the tomb, though the reason for their visit isn’t mentioned. As they reach the tomb on this first day of the week, with the Sabbath behind them, they discover that an earthquake has rolled the stone away from the tomb. Now, I know something about earthquakes and generally their not as localized as this report would suggest. Whatever the nature of the quake, the stone is rolled away, and an angel of heaven with a countenance like that of lightening, and the clothes, a dazzling white, sits on the stone – having frightened the guards away. The message of this angel is simple: Don’t be afraid (like the guards?). Instead, hear the message he brings – the one they look for isn’t there, but is instead risen from the dead, just as he had said. Remember, God is faithful! They might not have gotten the message, but God remains faithful, due to God’s everlasting love.

The angel has another message – go tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee. With this command these two women become the first witnesses to the resurrection – at least of the empty tomb. But as they go back to the larger gathering, they receive another visit. This time it’s Jesus himself, and like the angel, he tells them to tell the disciples to meet him in Galilee (where they’ll receive their commissions). It bears repeating here that one of the marks of an apostle is that the apostle is a witness of the resurrection, and thus these two women are to be counted among the apostles of Jesus. Oh, and there’s one other thing about this passage, not only do the women bear witness of the resurrection, but when they meet Jesus they worship him. Matthew says that they grabbed his feet and worshiped him (proskynein). While this could mean an acknowledgment of someone of higher rank, James Dunn notes that in almost every case in the New Testament it’s used in relationship to worship of God or of Jesus (as is the case here) [James Dunn, Did the First Christians Worship Jesus?, p. 10-11].

There’s not enough space here to wrestle with the issue of what it means to say that they worshiped Jesus, but it’s clear that the women are rejoicing at this sign of God’s everlasting love. They can’t help not worshiping this one who was dead and now lives! And is that not the point of Easter – the one who brings God’s everlasting love to us is alive and present with us, so that we need not see ourselves alone in the wilderness?

Finally, our attention goes to this short passage from Colossians 3, where the author (we don’t know if it’s Paul or not), declares that if we’re raised with Christ then we should look for the things that come from above, for that is where Christ is sitting – at the Right Hand of God. The message of resurrection is to consider the things of heaven, rather than the earth. For many of us this command does raise warning flags. We’re all aware of the danger of “being so heavenly minded that we’re of no earthly good.” That is, it sure sounds as if the author of this letter is giving us permission to walk around with our heads in the clouds, but I don’t believe that’s the case. It is, I would suggest a reminder to examine our own sense of allegiance. If you are a follower of Jesus, then you must keep your allegiance with the one who sits at the Right Hand of God. And when he’s revealed then you, having hid your life in Christ, you will be revealed in glory.

Here we are at Easter, being called upon to declare our allegiance to the one whom God has raised to the Right Hand, a God who as Jeremiah reminds us, is faithful to the promise to love with everlasting love. If this is true, if Easter is true, then what is your response? How will you celebrate Easter’s glory?  Will you take out the tambourine and dance for joy?

It May Not Be What It Seems -- A Lectionary Meditation for Palm Sunday

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Matthew 21:1-11

It May Not Be What It Seems

Palm Sunday is a rather odd feast day in the life of the church. We come to church ready to celebrate. We get to wave palms and celebrate with Jesus as he enters the city of Jerusalem in triumph. We get to join with the people who gathered that day for the festal parade and hail Jesus as king of kings and son of David. We sing hymns like “All Glory, Laud and Honor” and “Ride on, Ride on in Majesty.” We wave palm branches as the choir and clergy enter into the sanctuary. We join the crowds of old in shouting Hosanna to the King of Kings. It’s a grand and glorious parade, and yet this grand and glorious hour quickly fades into something else much less triumphant. This is in many ways the picture of an aborted revolution. The powers that be see their foe and crush it before the spark can grow into a fire.

I’m not sure how other preachers feel about Palm Sunday, but I’m rather ambivalent about the day’s events. I enjoy the pageantry, but I don’t want to get caught up in it, because I know that tragedy must come before triumph. If we skip from Palm Sunday to Easter, without stopping to ponder the day of the cross then we will have misunderstood the whole thing. We’ll be lulled into believing that the Christian life is just one triumph after another; not realizing that with triumph often comes suffering and death. But maybe that’s the point of Palm Sunday; if we look at it as only the opening act of the Holy Week story, then we’re reminded of the ease with which we misinterpret the signs, often jumping the gun and failing to see the underlying currents.

Although the lectionary readings for Palm Sunday, at least in this cycle, only provide us with two texts, one from the Psalms and the other from the Gospel, these texts are sufficient. One text, the Gospel of Matthew tells the story of the day, but it’s Psalm 118 that provides us with the lens through which we can truly understand that all might not be as it seems. The Psalmist seems to have caught sight of this undercurrent and names it for us, while at the same time providing us with a word of promise.

We begin with the story of Palm Sunday as it is told in Matthew 21. It’s a well-known, oft-told story. Jesus approaches Jerusalem, and when he comes near the Mount of Olives, he sends two disciples into the village of Bethpage to get a donkey, and with it a colt, and they are to bring these to Jesus. If anyone should ask why they are doing this, they’re to tell them that the Lord sent them. This interchange has led to lots of speculation. Did Jesus have this set up ahead of time? Or did Jesus foresee this happening (after all he is the Son of God and therefore knows all things). And the speculations go on and on, without any real resolution. All of this, however takes place because it fulfills the words of the prophet (Zechariah 9:9), who foresees Jerusalem’s king riding into the city riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey. The gospel writer misses the poetic parallelisms and envisions two animals at interprets Zechariah 9. The other gospels have only one animal.

In any case, this donkey will be the sign of a royal entrance, which Jesus reenacts. Those who see him riding into Jerusalem understand the sign and dutifully hail him king and Messiah (Son of David). They put their cloaks and palm branches out in front of him as a sign of their allegiance, all the while shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David.” And “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. As he makes his entrance the city is said to be in turmoil with everyone asking who he was? Those in the know respond: “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

An act such as this had to be seen as provocative by the authorities. It would have made the Temple authorities, to whom general governance was given by the Romans, nervous, and it would have made the Romans nervous. As the Gospels tell it, this entrance takes place on the eve of the Passover celebration, when the city was filled with pilgrims. And, as Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan suggest, Jesus’ “peasant procession” likely was being paralleled by an imperial procession into the city. They envision Pilate entering the city accompanied by his troops who normally were stationed in Caesarea Maritima. As they put it:

Pilate’s procession displayed not only imperial power, but also Roman imperial theology. According to this theology, the emperor was not simply ruler of Rome, but the Son of God. (Borg and Crossan, The Last Week, p. 3).

Two processions each representing rival theologies – one imperial and the other representing the Kingdom of God. Thus, we have a clash of ideologies and theologies, which means that what appears to be a scene of triumph on the surface will likely lead to dangerous encounters as the week progresses. But that is not the story that Matthew is ready to tell just yet. In the meantime we bask in the glory of the day.

The Psalmist helps us put this scene in context. This selection from Psalm 118 begins with a profession of faith in the Lord, who is not only good, but whose “steadfast love endures forever.” From this confession we move down to the Psalmist’s description of a festal parade through the “gates of righteousness.” It is through this gate that the righteous enter so that they might give thanks to the Lord for the salvation that the Lord has brought to them. But salvation has come at a cost, for “the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” There will be triumph, but there will also be tragedy. This verse stands as a reminder to us that we shouldn’t put too much stock in the exuberant welcome offered to Jesus. Things have a way of souring. People can be fickle.

But in the meantime, let us rejoice and beseech God to “give us success!” With this prayer upon our lips, we join in the parade, crying out: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” The Lord gives us light so that we can enter the festal parade with branches, and make our way to the “horns of the altar.” There we will offer our sacrifice of praise, giving thanks for God’s provisions. Indeed, we give thanks that God’s “steadfast love endures forever.” Even as the initial triumph is fleeting, so will be our fall. In the end, we can trust in this Love that is God’s. We can take our hope in this promise, because as Tom Oord points out in his book The Nature of Love, when the scriptures speak of God’s everlasting love, it is rooted in the premise that God loves of necessity. That is, when we give thanks this Palm Sunday for God’s chesed (steadfast love) we are talking about God’s essential being that evidences itself in love of God’s creatures (Oord, The Nature of Love, p. 130).

Palm Sunday provides great difficulties for us, because it tempts us to believe that the Christian life runs from one triumph to another. Jesus enters the gates of the city and then jumps to heaven the next Sunday. But that’s not the way it works. We must continue the journey, which leads through betrayal, torture, and death. In Tom Troeger’s hymn for Palm Sunday, “A Cheering, Chanting, Dizzy Crowd,” after speaking of the parade, he offers us these two final stanzas:

Lest we be fooled because our hearts have surged with passing praise,

remind us, God, as this week starts where Christ has fixed his gaze.

Instead of palms a winding sheet will have to be unrolled,

a carpet much more fit to greet the king across will hold. (Chalice Hymnal 193)

The parade of palms will stir our hearts, but it’s not yet time to celebrate the final triumph. Palm Sunday is in many ways a false start. Jesus goes into the city, checks it out, and leaves. No revolution yet! But as the hymn reminds us, the journey has just begun. The triumph that we will celebrate on Easter, must go through Good Friday, and it is in this journey that we see God’s steadfast love truly revealed. In this journey from this triumphant gate to Easter, we discover that God is not only present in the moments of glory, but even more powerfully in our moments of suffering and despair.