A Homily for Palm Sunday

 

Blessed is he that cometh in the Name of the Lord.  . . .  Let him be crucified.

—Saint Matthew, 21:9 and 27:21

 

 

            “When the great crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, they took palm branches and went out to meet him, and cried out: ‘Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”  “As he rode along, the people were spreading their cloaks on the road; and now as he was approaching the slope of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of his disciples began to praise God aloud with joy for all the mighty deeds they had seen.”  “A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and strewed them on the road.  The crowds going before him and those following kept crying out and saying: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.’  And when he entered Jerusalem the whole city was shaken and asked, ‘Who is this?’  And the crowds replied, ‘This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.’”

 

            Palm Sunday’s is, except for the Easter Vigil, the most dramatic liturgy of the Church year.  Today we, like the multitudes in Bethany and Jerusalem, have taken palm branches and gone out to meet the Lord on the road.  We have sung with them, “All glory, laud, and honour to thee, Redeemer King!”  We have processed with him along the street and followed him into the temple, and, like the children of the Hebrews we have made sweet hosannas ring.  We have re-enacted his triumphal entry, joining the great crowd that announced to an astonished city:  “This is Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth.”  This is our prophet!  This is our king!

 

            But that is not the whole of the drama.  That is not where our role playing ended.  For multitudes are fickle and crowds may be swayed any which way.  We have played our role as the crowd that escorted Jesus into Jerusalem; but we have also played our role as the crowd in Jerusalem, the crowd at the judgment hall of Pontius Pilate:

 

            “The chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas, and to destroy Jesus.  The governor said to them, ‘Which of the two do you want me to release to you?’ They answered, ‘Barabbas!’  Pilate said to them, ‘Then what shall I do with Jesus called Messiah?’ They all said, ‘Let him be crucified!”   “Pilate said to them in reply, ‘Then what do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?’  They shouted again, ‘Crucify him.’  Pilate said to them, ‘Why? What evil has he done?’ They only shouted the louder, ‘Crucify him.’”  “Pilate . . . washed his hands in the sight of the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this man's blood. Look to it yourselves.’  And the whole people said in reply, ‘His blood be upon us and upon our children.’”

 

            Oh, yes.  We played the crowd again.  We who a few minutes earlier had said, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” cried out, “Let him be crucified,” and, “His blood be on us and on our children.”  Which is to be then?  Which crowd are we? 

 

            We know which crowd we want to be part of.  If we try to imagine ourselves not re-enacting the Scriptural scene here at Saint Mary Magdalene’s church, but, rather, as part of a crowd in first century Jerusalem, it is much easier and much more pleasant to imagine ourselves among that crowd on the road from Bethany, waving palms and chanting, “Hosanna,” than among the crowd on the Jerusalem pavement hooting, “Crucify, crucify!”  And are we ever called, in all the Christian year, to say anything quite so chilling as, “His blood be on us and on our children”?

 

            In fact, however, we are part of both crowds.  We hail Jesus as our Lord and King, for so he is.  And we would not be here this morning if we did not know and love him as our Lord and King.  And because we know, and love, and worship him as our King, we belong among the crowd that greeted him with palms and hosannas.

 

            And yet in our everyday lives we show ourselves also to be part of that other crowd, the crowd that demanded his crucifixion, the crowd that was willing to have his blood on its hands and on its head.  That is because it is our sins that crucified Jesus Christ, who was himself without spot of sin.

 

He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief:

and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:

yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities:

the chastisement of our peace was upon him;

and with his stripes we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way;

and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. . . .

He was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken.

And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death;

because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.

Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him;

he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin

 

            He was crucified for our sins, and, therefore, whenever we are dishonest, whenever we are angry without cause, whenever we are unkind, whenever we betray a trust, whenever we covet those things which are our neighbour’s, we make ourselves part of that crowd that answered Pilate, “Let him be crucified.”  Whenever we do those things which we ought not to do or leave undone those things which we ought to do, we are saying, “Let him be crucified.”  Whenever we put things in place of God in our lives, we are crying out, “Let him be crucified.”

 

            “Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God[, instead] made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.”  And we, by our sinfulness, by our pride, by our love of self, say again and again, “His blood be on us and on our children.”

 

            “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.  . . . while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son.”  This is the mystery of the incarnation; this is the mystery of the atonement.  Jesus Christ did not argue with Pilate, he did not try to prove his innocence, he did not offer an alibi.  “When he was accused of the chief priests and elders, he answered nothing. Then said Pilate unto him, ‘Hearest thou not how many things they witness against thee?’ And he answered him to never a word; insomuch that the governor marvelled greatly.”  “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is mute, so he opened not his mouth.” 

 

            When he entered Jerusalem, riding on a donkey. amongst a crowd shouting “Hosanna,” “some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples.’  He answered and said, ‘I tell you, if they keep silent, the very stones will cry out!’”  But when the sentence was handed down, the crowd had changed its tune, and the stones were silent.  “And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha:”

 

            And we may imagine yet another crowd, a crowd that had followed from the judgment hall, along the Via Dolorosa, and now is milling about on Golgotha, “skull hill.”  They stand and gape as his garments are parted among the soldiers and the nails are driven through hands and feet.  And we must imagine ourselves to be part of that crowd, also.

 

            “And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

 

Church of Saint Mary Magdalene

Orange, California

01 April 2007

 

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