April 10, 2022 Sermon

Here Comes Life: Stories of Resilience, Risk and Rejoicing

It is Holy Week. The minute we started singing All Glory Laud and Honor and the children paraded around our meetinghouse with palms it began.

In Matthew’s version of Jesus’ pilgrimage and entry into Jerusalem, the journey begins along the Jericho road in another instance of Jesus’ ministry of compassion and healing. The gospel writer positions the story of the healing of the blind men just before Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem lest we forget! It is Jesus, this prophet from Nazareth who creates a future for those blindsided by life; it is justice for the trampled, the hopeless and the hungry…

And now, after he sends the disciples on ahead to make travel arrangements, the crowd grows and cheers as we too enter the gates of the city. Maybe we catch a sight of the “One who comes in the name of the Lord”, dust covering our feet, joy trembling in our voices, arms and branches filling the air. Some of us are weary, some are excited. Some are waiting for a much-needed miracle even here in front of everyone. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus may ask (Matt: 20:32).

Like all good Jews at this time of year, Jesus is heading to Passover in Jerusalem. The threat of his presence to the Roman powers in charge is increasing, as are the crowds following him. Many have been healed by Jesus along the way, seen by him, touched by him, invited by him to follow along.

The two blind men whom Jesus touched outside of Jericho are here too, branches held high, eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Everyone in the crowd has a story and a reason for being there.

You’ll notice that on our bulletin cover this morning, the artist, Hanna Varghese, paints Jesus coming towards us on a borrowed colt, arm raised in a gesture of peace, eyes meeting our own. We are nearly enveloped by the cheers and the whooshing of green branches. It is part pandemonium and part rejoicing and one can almost hear the pounding of the horses of war on the other side of town carrying Herod and his military forces.

We know this story by heart most of us. We know what happens at week’s end. We’ve seen the horrors of crucifixion in our world. In fact, we watch it unfold in real time each day from towns and villages in Ukraine. And nevertheless, we need to remember that Easter approaches.

Our liturgies today and in the coming days will reflect this re-membering of our foundational faith story and who we are today in light of these ancient faith grounding texts.

All of the gospel writers have their take on Jesus’ triumphal arrival. It is a festival day! Matthew gives us a few citations from the prophets of Old to recall Jesus’ lineage. Jesus fulfills Zecheriah and Isaiah’s prophecy. The image of the prophetic and peaceful healer astride a humble creature is animated by the power of justice and non-violence that Jesus preached.

Soon enough, the voices of celebration ringing out today will turn into accusation and fear, stereotyping and immense suffering. Threats of capital punishment and death. Bodies in the streets and on the cross. Incalculable suffering.

And then, we wait until Easter morning, when we’ll remember again to honor the practice of resurrection in our lives as a people of faith, second chances and love.

I find it hard not to get ahead of myself. The gospels were written with the benefit of hindsight, taking in all that happened decades before on those dusty and cobbled streets.

Albert Nolan, a South African Dominican priest, in his book, Jesus Before Christianity, read in our book group this month. Nolan wrote this small volume of wisdom hoping to respond to the faith questions of his university students. Nolan wrote:

“God is speaking to us in a new way today. God is speaking to us in the events and problems of our time. Jesus can help us to understand the voice of Truth but, in the last analysis, it is we who must decide and act.”[1]

There is a temptation in many churches to keep the Holy Week locked in ancient times. The theology stuck, literal, unchanging, distanced from the relevance of the here and now. Nolan sensed that, too, back in the 70’s, and promoted a contextual theology, a theology of compassion rooted in the lived context of the community wherever that might be. It is an embodied theology of God-with-us.

If we allow ourselves to enter into the story, we’ll see they are very human stories; narratives of risk and of hope, despair and resilience and ultimately the power of love prevailing. And the stories remind us that people, still, cry out to be healed. Who will follow and stand firm and who will run? Who will hear the cries and respond? Will God respond? Will we?

On this pilgrimage march, Jesus enters the old city of Jerusalem at great risk. We hear there is chaos everywhere.

Two examples of the risk some choose to take on behalf of their fellow human beings come to mind. Last month, on March 21st, we marked the 57th anniversary of the March on Selma across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Some of you have walked that bridge. Martin Luther King Jr. John Lewis, Coretta Scott King and 600 other brave nonviolent protestors, led this third (and finally successful) march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. They famously crossed that bridge at great risk to themselves, ultimately turning the world around, and making the Voting Rights Act of 1965 the rule of law. It was known as Bloody Sunday because of the blood of the marchers running in the streets…

In a recent biography of Senator John Lewis, Jon Meacham wrote, “Selma changed hearts and minds when America watched the brutal forces of the visible world meet the forces of the invisible one, and the clubs and the horses and tear gas were, in the end, no match for love and grace and nonviolence.”[2]

It is a Holy Week story.

Like Jesus’ entrance on donkey back, this pilgrimage of justice to Selma was planned and the risks to life and limb well known. Nothing was preordained but victory was imagined and reimagined, suffering endured, freedom dreamed of and died for.

As Senator John Lewis reminded us in his book, Across That Bridge, the dream of freedom for all people is not a one and done, “Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society. The work of love, peace, and justice will always be necessary, until their realism and their imperative takes hold of our imagination, crowds out any dream of hatred or revenge, and fills up our existence with their power.”[3]

Wisdom for a Holy Week such as this one. One month later, and we follow another story. It is day 46 of the monstrous war in Ukraine and the brutality and slaughter of the innocents seems unrelenting. The latest images of missiles bombing a train station are hard to take in. Something like 25% of the Ukrainian people are now displaced. It is a crucifixion of another time. Like the Roman occupation in 1st c Palestine, there seems no end to the evil in sight. Jesus strode into the city lifting up the liberating activity as the one moved with compassion, appealing for an experience of kinship and solidarity with humankind. The kin-dom of God.

We remember and honor these stories so that we too may find the courage to march alongside Jesus, with those named as “other” and speak out on behalf of a just peace and a just mercy. Perhaps the image of Jesus re-entering our lives on donkey back with a wave can invite us to more deeply experience this liturgical moment, even as we face the world as it is right now.

In the meantime, as we raise our own voices in loud Hosannas on our church front lawn, we can do so boldly in the name of those most in need today. Whether here at home, or across the world.

We have much to rejoice, just look around.

And as the poet Maya Angelou wrote,

“Let choice (Let freedom) whisper in your ear and love murmur in your heart.

Be ready.

Here comes life.”

Amen.

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[1] Albert Nolan, Jesus Before Christianity (1976).

[2] Jon Meacham, His Truth is Marching On: John Lewis and the Power of Hope.

[3] John Lewis, Across That Bridge: A Vision for Change.