Today in the Christian calendar is Palm / Passion Sunday. I’ve got to tell you I don’t really understand this. It seems almost a contradiction; doesn’t it.On Palm Sunday we celebrate the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. We watch him astride the donkey humbly making is way to his destiny, not as a conquering but as a servant.
We hear the cheering, the cries of Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” There’s an excitement about it. In the back of our minds we know what the preacher is going to do. The pastor is going to point out to us that the same people who stood beside the road, who laid their garments down to make a carpeted entry for him, who waved the palm branches, would soon cry “Crucify! Crucify!”
Guess what. You’re safe. I’ve never preached that sermon. At least, I’ve not preached it in recent memory. There has always been something about my religion that, like many, wants to keep the parade separate from the passion, the celebration apart from the crucifixion.
I’ve always been caught in the tension in preparing a sermon for Palm / Passion Sunday. Which is it I’ll emphasize? The parade or the passion, the promise or the betrayal, the revelation of his mission or the horrible method of the ending of that ministry?
And then this past week I was reading a piece by Ed Cooper in Columbus, Georgia. He asks: “What is the point of having passion? (Definition: the capacity to suffer for another person.) [Ed Cooper, D.Min, “Delivered Into, Not Out Of—Starting Thoughts, LectionAid, Volume 16, Number 2, March-May, 2008]
When we find ourselves pondering what emphasis we will place on this Sunday, the waving of the palms or the passion of Jesus and find ourselves having difficulty I think it’s often because we’re applying the wrong emphasis. When we’re asked about the passion of Christ, we think immediately of the cross. The version given by Mel Gibson captures our thought process. We equate passion with suffering.
Listen folks, it was the passion of Christ that led him to sit on that donkey and participate in that parade which would incite the leaders against him. The passion of Christ is not in the suffering of the cross; the passion of Christ is his capacity to ride toward that suffering, to willingly suffer for us. Dr. Cooper reminds us that “Those whom one is passionate about one will not give up on.”
Here we sit on Palm Sunday, and next Sunday is Easter. Johnny Dean puts this coming week in perspective. He says:
“It's not Easter yet, but it won't be long now, just seven short days. And what joy we will feel when we get there! But we have a big problem. To get from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday we have to walk through a graveyard in the dark….
“(We) better hang onto one another as tightly as we can as we tiptoe past the tombstones and stand together at the foot of the cross. And we must not look the other way as we stand there. It's going to hurt to see him hanging there, knowing the agony he's going through and knowing further that the only reason he's putting himself through all that is his love for you and me. Another shout will ring out on Good Friday, but it won't be "Hosanna!" It won't be, "Christ, you know I love you. Did you see, I waved?" It will be "Tetelestai!" - it is finished. And the Son of God will die.” (Johnny Dean, Weekly Illustrations, sermons.com)
The Son of God will die. Is that where the passion leads? Does the passion lead to death?
I was honored this past week to be part of a celebration of some folks whose passion led to death.
A dear friend of mine, the Reverend Paul Turner, pastors the Gentle Spirit Christian Church in Atlanta. It’s known as the “Church Without Walls.” They are a church without walls because two years ago them made a decision to give up a dream of being a traditional church that worships in the comfort of a physical building. Rather they decided to worship in a city park. There’s no expense of maintaining a plant. There are no electric bills. The collection goes to ministry.
On Sunday when they worship, everyone brings food. They spread the food and invite anyone, including the homeless, the marginalized, and the outcast, to share in their celebration.
At the celebration I attended, Charles told me of the day he wandered through the park on a Sunday morning. He didn’t have any intention of going to church, but Charles was living under a bridge at the time and was drunk as a skunk when he wasn’t stoned. Someone said, “Come on over and worship with us. We’re having a picnic lunch afterwards. We’d love to have you join us.” So Charles decided he hand around and endure the sermon. The sandwiches looked good.
The rest is history. “Where do you live?” the pastor asked Charles.
“Under a bridge,” he said.
“Not any longer,” the pastor replied. And Charles found himself in a shelter, from the shelter he moved to the halfway house.
“Pastor Guy,” Charles said at the celebration. “I’m on my thirty-fourth month of sobriety.”
From a bridge to a shelter to sobriety to a job to an apartment and freedom, all because a church was willing to die to what they’d always thought a church was and to follow their passion to suffer for others.
Think about it. What would be your response if I suggested we sell this building and meet up on the soccer field at the recreation center every Sunday, and we take the money we would save and give it to those less fortunate than we. Think about it. We could meet outside, rain, snow, sleet or shine, stifling hot and humid or freezing cold and shivering. But we’d do it out of a sense of passion, a willingness to suffer for others.
At that same celebration I ran into the Reverend Dr. Mimi Walker. I knew Dr. Walker when she was pastor of an inner city church in Atlanta. It was a church like many others. The membership was getting older each year as it dwindled with each death. It seemed to be a no-win situation. And then one day they came upon a plan. They sold their church with its valuable building and property. And they gave the money to ministries that helped those less fortunate, the outcasts. A goodly portion of the money they gave to “The Church Without Walls” where it is still being used to minister those who drop by for a sandwich after the sermon.
Wow! What passion. What willingness to suffer for others. They sold their walls for a church without walls.
Preachers have a favorite Palm Sunday story about the little boy who was sick on Palm Sunday. Instead of going to church he stayed at home with his mother. His father came home from church holding a palm branch in his hand. The little boy saw it and began asking questions. “Well, when Jesus went into Jerusalem everyone ran out to meet him, and they waved the palm branches to welcome and to honor him. So today at church we were all given a palm branch. “Dang!” said the boy, “I miss church one Sunday and that’s the Sunday Jesus shows up.”
What do you think? Would we be passionate and willing to suffer for others if Jesus showed up?
Brett Blair said: “Lest we be too critical of Jerusalem, ask yourself this question: What city even today would not be shaken by Jesus’ entry into it? Imagine Jesus entering New York, Belgrade, Washington, or even Memphis. Oh, I’m sure we’d welcome him with our hosannas — at first, anyway. We’d line the streets and strike up the band and have a grand parade right down Main Street. But I’m equally sure that, by the end of the week, we’d have him nailed to a cross, too. Why? Because the Kingdom of Jesus came to establish still threatens the kingdoms of this world — your kingdom and mine — the kingdoms where greed, power, and lust rule instead of grace, mercy, and peace. And who among us really wants to surrender our lives to that Kingdom and that King?” (Brett Blair and Staff, eSermons (dot) com.)
Who among us? Who among us wants to be that passionate about our faith?
Charlie Brown and Linus are looking at the night sky. Charlie Brown says to Linus, “Would you like to see a falling star?”
Linus replied, “Sure,” but after thinking a minute he adds, “I’d hate to have it fall on my account.”
Palm Sunday. Jesus gets on the donkey and heads for Jerusalem. And it was on your account.
Passion: The capacity to suffer for another person.
How’s your passion?
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