Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. A Gospel reading for today is here.
Mary of Magdala: My name is Mary. I’m from Magdala. I’m one of those women, one of those who followed him from Galilee and helped take care of him and the disciples.
This man, this man they killed today? This man healed me, and set me free from the worst kind of bondage you can imagine. He cast out seven demons from me, who were torturing me. I didn’t think I’d ever get free of those voices, the constant chatter inside, telling me how worthless I was, how I’d be better off dead. He gave me back my life. After that he was my life. I would have followed him anywhere. He was my Lord.
So following him and tending to his needs and those of his disciples – what else could I do? The only thing that made sense now was serving him. He set me free, you see, and all I wanted to use my freedom for was to serve him. Do you understand? That’s who my Lord was.
That’s how it was for all of us – this motley collection of people who had been set free – from demons, from sin and degradation, some from blindness, crippling diseases, some from despair and loneliness and meaningless lives – some from greed and lust. Just a bunch of people who love him because of what he did for them. Fairly selfish kind of love, when you think about it. But it was real, it was real when you were with him. He made it real. He made us all able to love in a way we didn’t naturally know.
Anyway, the first thing we have to do is bury him. I hear some guy from the Sanhedrin has given him a tomb. We’ll have to see to it. I guess it’s too late now to anoint him before the Sabbath begins. We’ll have to do it on Sunday…
I’d better find the others and see where they’re taking him.
Often what deepens our devotion to Jesus Christ is understanding what he has given us. That can be easier when our spiritual story has a before/after conversion aspect. But even those of us who have grown up in this faith can discover who Jesus is to us, and uncover our deep need for the healing only he can bring. For Mary it came through redemption from spiritual bondage and emotional pain. What is it for you?
Wherever you are on that journey of discovery, whether or not you feel the freedom Mary and others experienced in Jesus’ love, pause today in prayer to give thanks for what is possible, and invite the Holy Spirit to make that knowledge more real and specific for you.
That’s why we call this Good Friday.
4-17-14 - Maundy Thursday - Peter
Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. Today's Gospel passage is here and here.
Simon Peter of Galilee: I know what you’re thinking – a tough guy like me? Crying like a baby? But I couldn’t help it. After what I did… after what I didn’t do? He told me, you know? He said one of us was going to betray him and we were all going to deny we knew him, and I said, “Oh, no, Lord, I’ll never deny you! Even if I have to die with you!”
But he told me, he already knew, that before the cock crowed twice this morning, I would. And he was right. I was worthless to him! I couldn’t even stand it for an hour. I couldn’t even stay awake with him last night, I couldn’t defend him…
But I guess he didn’t want us to fight. He said it had to happen this way. This, from a guy who has power and authority like you’ve never seen. But this man, last night, got down on his knees and washed our feet. Like a servant. Like a slave. He knelt down in front of me with this basin and started to wash my feet. I pulled them back! The idea of him, touching my feet! My feet… my feet are filthy. They smell like the oldest, ripest piece of cheese you ever left lying around your kitchen for too many weeks. They’re caked in mud and dirt and God knows what. They’ve got sores all over…
But he said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.” Okay, then, I said, but don’t stop with my feet. Wash my hands and my head too! But he just said, no, I was clean. And then he washed my feet like they were babies, like they were precious. He washed my feet like he loved them, and me along with them.
Everything he’d ever said made sense right then, because he loved me so much. I don’t understand it. I’m not lovable. I’m loud, crude, ornery. I’m always charging in without thinking… but he loves me. There’s nothing I’ve done to make it so. I betrayed him tonight, as much as Judas. I ran like a coward. I lied about him, three times.
But just now, they brought him out and as he passed, he looked at me. He knew what I had done, but he looked at me with those eyes that see everything, and he still loved me. No matter what I do. It’s an amazing thing. And I’ll tell you something, that is love I’d die for.
How are you at receiving love and care from others?
It’s tricky, this giving and receiving thing – Jesus implies we have to be equally good at both.
Who do you let get close to you, close enough to see your flaws and blemishes? Thank God for them.
Who lets you show them love? How does it feel? Would you withhold that feeling from another?
Tonight, if you’re attending a service that includes footwashing, are you going to let someone wash your feet? I hope so – and as that person is giving you that gift, imagine it is Jesus.
And when you wash another’s feet, know that it is Jesus’ feet you are washing.
And then you’ll “have a part” with him.
Simon Peter of Galilee: I know what you’re thinking – a tough guy like me? Crying like a baby? But I couldn’t help it. After what I did… after what I didn’t do? He told me, you know? He said one of us was going to betray him and we were all going to deny we knew him, and I said, “Oh, no, Lord, I’ll never deny you! Even if I have to die with you!”
But he told me, he already knew, that before the cock crowed twice this morning, I would. And he was right. I was worthless to him! I couldn’t even stand it for an hour. I couldn’t even stay awake with him last night, I couldn’t defend him…
But I guess he didn’t want us to fight. He said it had to happen this way. This, from a guy who has power and authority like you’ve never seen. But this man, last night, got down on his knees and washed our feet. Like a servant. Like a slave. He knelt down in front of me with this basin and started to wash my feet. I pulled them back! The idea of him, touching my feet! My feet… my feet are filthy. They smell like the oldest, ripest piece of cheese you ever left lying around your kitchen for too many weeks. They’re caked in mud and dirt and God knows what. They’ve got sores all over…
But he said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.” Okay, then, I said, but don’t stop with my feet. Wash my hands and my head too! But he just said, no, I was clean. And then he washed my feet like they were babies, like they were precious. He washed my feet like he loved them, and me along with them.
Everything he’d ever said made sense right then, because he loved me so much. I don’t understand it. I’m not lovable. I’m loud, crude, ornery. I’m always charging in without thinking… but he loves me. There’s nothing I’ve done to make it so. I betrayed him tonight, as much as Judas. I ran like a coward. I lied about him, three times.
But just now, they brought him out and as he passed, he looked at me. He knew what I had done, but he looked at me with those eyes that see everything, and he still loved me. No matter what I do. It’s an amazing thing. And I’ll tell you something, that is love I’d die for.
How are you at receiving love and care from others?
It’s tricky, this giving and receiving thing – Jesus implies we have to be equally good at both.
Who do you let get close to you, close enough to see your flaws and blemishes? Thank God for them.
Who lets you show them love? How does it feel? Would you withhold that feeling from another?
Tonight, if you’re attending a service that includes footwashing, are you going to let someone wash your feet? I hope so – and as that person is giving you that gift, imagine it is Jesus.
And when you wash another’s feet, know that it is Jesus’ feet you are washing.
And then you’ll “have a part” with him.
4-16-14 - Wed in Holy Week - Judas Iscariot
Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. Today's Gospel reading is here and here.
Judas Iscariot: I know, I’m the bad guy in all this. “How could you do it?” they all ask. And he asked… “With a kiss? Did you have to betray me with a symbol of love and friendship?” But what did he want? He as good as made me do it – he said, at dinner, “What you have to do, do it quickly.” He knew. I’m just a pawn in all this. But no one’s going to understand that, are they? I’m the bad guy. The one.
You’re wondering why I would betray him, why I would betray someone who showed me so much love and acceptance. But, you see, it wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be about him in the end – it had to be about the work, right? The revolution. Feeding the poor, empowering the weak, kicking out the Romans.
“The Kingdom of God is coming,” he said. Bring it on! We had that parade into Jerusalem and the crowd was all worked up, shouting hosanna. That must have given the Romans something to think about. And then he kicked butt up at the temple, giving it to those collaborationist Jewish leaders … it was great.
But then he slowed down again – he’d tell these weird stories that hardly made sense. We were wasting so much time. And then there was the thing at that dinner in Bethany, where this woman, Mary, emptied like a whole bottle of really expensive perfumed oil on his head. We could have fed a whole village for a month with what that cost! But he defended her. “She’s preparing me for death,” he said, like that was supposed to make sense. All this death stuff all the time, and he wasn’t even fighting it.
All of a sudden he thought he was more important than the poor? I mean, he was completely out of touch. What was I supposed to do, sit back and watch the whole think unravel? We need a revolution. We need justice. I couldn’t just turn my back on…
But I don’t expect you to understand. And you should know – I gave the money back!
So, who is Judas? Traitor? Zeolot? Freedom fighter? God’s patsy? Can you relate to him on any level?
Today, let’s pray for the Judases in our lives, and in ourselves. If we have free will, so do they… and wholeness must be possible for them too.
For a beautiful take on Judas that emphasizes the enormity of God’s grace, listen to U2’s “Until the End of the World,” which imagines a conversation between Jesus and Judas. Concert version; Official video (clearer lyrics, dumber visuals…) And here is a version that begins with the scene of Judas’ agony and death from the film The Passion of the Christ.
Judas Iscariot: I know, I’m the bad guy in all this. “How could you do it?” they all ask. And he asked… “With a kiss? Did you have to betray me with a symbol of love and friendship?” But what did he want? He as good as made me do it – he said, at dinner, “What you have to do, do it quickly.” He knew. I’m just a pawn in all this. But no one’s going to understand that, are they? I’m the bad guy. The one.
You’re wondering why I would betray him, why I would betray someone who showed me so much love and acceptance. But, you see, it wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be about him in the end – it had to be about the work, right? The revolution. Feeding the poor, empowering the weak, kicking out the Romans.
“The Kingdom of God is coming,” he said. Bring it on! We had that parade into Jerusalem and the crowd was all worked up, shouting hosanna. That must have given the Romans something to think about. And then he kicked butt up at the temple, giving it to those collaborationist Jewish leaders … it was great.
But then he slowed down again – he’d tell these weird stories that hardly made sense. We were wasting so much time. And then there was the thing at that dinner in Bethany, where this woman, Mary, emptied like a whole bottle of really expensive perfumed oil on his head. We could have fed a whole village for a month with what that cost! But he defended her. “She’s preparing me for death,” he said, like that was supposed to make sense. All this death stuff all the time, and he wasn’t even fighting it.
All of a sudden he thought he was more important than the poor? I mean, he was completely out of touch. What was I supposed to do, sit back and watch the whole think unravel? We need a revolution. We need justice. I couldn’t just turn my back on…
But I don’t expect you to understand. And you should know – I gave the money back!
So, who is Judas? Traitor? Zeolot? Freedom fighter? God’s patsy? Can you relate to him on any level?
Today, let’s pray for the Judases in our lives, and in ourselves. If we have free will, so do they… and wholeness must be possible for them too.
For a beautiful take on Judas that emphasizes the enormity of God’s grace, listen to U2’s “Until the End of the World,” which imagines a conversation between Jesus and Judas. Concert version; Official video (clearer lyrics, dumber visuals…) And here is a version that begins with the scene of Judas’ agony and death from the film The Passion of the Christ.
4-15-14 - Tuesday in Holy Week - Caiaphas
Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. (Today's portion of the Gospel is here.)
Caiaphas: I’m the chief priest this year. I’m not going to take up much of your time. I just think it’s important you hear from one of us before you judge us too harshly. I know we come off badly here – this guy was a much-loved rabbi, after all. He taught some truth, I’ll grant you, and he does seem to have had amazing powers. He did much good, you’ll get no argument from us on that score.
But he was a troublemaker. His following got too large, and when the crowds are too big, the Romans start nosing around. We go to a lot of effort to keep the Romans focusing attention elsewhere. This guy and his followers – they were putting all of us at risk.
But that sounds self-serving, isn’t it? I don’t want you to think we were just trying to protect ourselves. I know that’s what some of his followers are saying, but that’s not really it. Much more important is this: the claims this Jesus made about himself were blasphemous. You don’t go around saying you’re the son of God and have the power to forgive sins! You just don’t. Only God can do that – and if God were to show up in the temple as a human being, don’t you think he would have let us, the guardians of the Torah, God’s holy truth, know about it?
This Jesus has no regard for the law. You don’t go changing the rules whenever you like. The law is a sacred gift of God to our people. And God gave the care and protection of this law to us. Not to some itinerant rabbi who thinks he’s the Messiah! He gave it to us, and it’s our job to make sure the law is kept and that it is preserved for our children and our children’s children.
Do you understand? That’s all I want, for you to see it from our point of view…
So, where do Jesus’ claims conflict with your understanding of the way things “should” be?
Where does he rub you the wrong way?
And when have authorities misunderstood and judged you? Have you been able to forgive them?
Today in prayer, you might draw near to Jesus and stand with him as he is condemned at this false trial… and maybe we can draw near to those who sought to silence him. They need our forgiveness too…
Caiaphas: I’m the chief priest this year. I’m not going to take up much of your time. I just think it’s important you hear from one of us before you judge us too harshly. I know we come off badly here – this guy was a much-loved rabbi, after all. He taught some truth, I’ll grant you, and he does seem to have had amazing powers. He did much good, you’ll get no argument from us on that score.
But he was a troublemaker. His following got too large, and when the crowds are too big, the Romans start nosing around. We go to a lot of effort to keep the Romans focusing attention elsewhere. This guy and his followers – they were putting all of us at risk.
But that sounds self-serving, isn’t it? I don’t want you to think we were just trying to protect ourselves. I know that’s what some of his followers are saying, but that’s not really it. Much more important is this: the claims this Jesus made about himself were blasphemous. You don’t go around saying you’re the son of God and have the power to forgive sins! You just don’t. Only God can do that – and if God were to show up in the temple as a human being, don’t you think he would have let us, the guardians of the Torah, God’s holy truth, know about it?
This Jesus has no regard for the law. You don’t go changing the rules whenever you like. The law is a sacred gift of God to our people. And God gave the care and protection of this law to us. Not to some itinerant rabbi who thinks he’s the Messiah! He gave it to us, and it’s our job to make sure the law is kept and that it is preserved for our children and our children’s children.
Do you understand? That’s all I want, for you to see it from our point of view…
So, where do Jesus’ claims conflict with your understanding of the way things “should” be?
Where does he rub you the wrong way?
And when have authorities misunderstood and judged you? Have you been able to forgive them?
Today in prayer, you might draw near to Jesus and stand with him as he is condemned at this false trial… and maybe we can draw near to those who sought to silence him. They need our forgiveness too…
4-14-14 - Monday in Holy Week: Mary of Bethany
Each day this week we will hear from one of the main characters in the Holy Week story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. (Today's Gospel reading is here.)
Mary of Bethany: I know it was a very intimate thing to do, even scandalous. You should have seen my sister Martha’s face when I poured a whole pound of pure nard on Jesus’ feet! But Jesus was like my brother. I mean, he was my Lord, but I also loved him like I loved my own brother. It just seemed the most natural and full way to honor him before he… before he, you know…
I don’t know how I knew he was going to die soon. It wasn’t because he said so. I just felt it. After Lazarus’ death, when Jesus… you know, raised him… I just stood at that tomb and suddenly had a feeling: “It’s not going to be long before we have to bury the Teacher.” It was like I saw into his spirit, and I knew he would be taken from us. He said it often enough; we just didn’t want to believe him. I knew at the Passover he would go to Jerusalem, even though it was dangerous for him there.
I knew this might be the last time he was in our home. I had bought the nard thinking we would need it to anoint him after his death; I didn’t want them using anything cheap on him. I used all the money I’d made from the clothes I made and sold. I wanted the best for him. But that night I looked at him in the light from the candles, as we all sat around the table after the meal, talking and talking, as we always did… and I thought, “No, this shouldn’t be for him after his death. Why waste it then? He should be honored like that in life.” And that was it; I just got up and took the jar and broke it and poured it all over his feet, the whole thing, everything for him.
“Oh the waste!” they cried, Judas leading the charge. “This could have been sold for 300 denarii and given to the poor!” Oh, they laid into me. Well, of course it could have. But that wasn’t the point that night. The point was to honor Jesus, to give him comfort and love and protection because I knew we wouldn’t be able to protect him from what was ahead...
It was shocking to hear him say it so bluntly, that we wouldn’t always have him with us. I still don’t think they really heard him, or understood. But he let me know I had done the right thing, as wrong as it seemed to everyone else who was there. Seems he was always having to defend me. But this was one time I could show love to him.
He was going to lay down his life for us. I didn’t know what would happen after that. He had talked about being raised on the third day. He had said something to Martha at the tomb about being the resurrection and the life, and “Do you believe this?” But I didn’t know what would be.
But now I do know, and I ask you this: was my action any more “wasteful” than the Son of God pouring out his life for the likes of me? For a humanity that wouldn’t even recognize the gift?
Mary’s act of devotion and worship is unbelievably extravagant, seemingly wasteful. She held nothing back. Do you ever feel that toward Jesus… maybe toward someone else in your life?
The time you are spending now is precious to God… and as we give this much, we begin to look at what we’re holding back and release that too.
Mary of Bethany: I know it was a very intimate thing to do, even scandalous. You should have seen my sister Martha’s face when I poured a whole pound of pure nard on Jesus’ feet! But Jesus was like my brother. I mean, he was my Lord, but I also loved him like I loved my own brother. It just seemed the most natural and full way to honor him before he… before he, you know…
I don’t know how I knew he was going to die soon. It wasn’t because he said so. I just felt it. After Lazarus’ death, when Jesus… you know, raised him… I just stood at that tomb and suddenly had a feeling: “It’s not going to be long before we have to bury the Teacher.” It was like I saw into his spirit, and I knew he would be taken from us. He said it often enough; we just didn’t want to believe him. I knew at the Passover he would go to Jerusalem, even though it was dangerous for him there.
I knew this might be the last time he was in our home. I had bought the nard thinking we would need it to anoint him after his death; I didn’t want them using anything cheap on him. I used all the money I’d made from the clothes I made and sold. I wanted the best for him. But that night I looked at him in the light from the candles, as we all sat around the table after the meal, talking and talking, as we always did… and I thought, “No, this shouldn’t be for him after his death. Why waste it then? He should be honored like that in life.” And that was it; I just got up and took the jar and broke it and poured it all over his feet, the whole thing, everything for him.
“Oh the waste!” they cried, Judas leading the charge. “This could have been sold for 300 denarii and given to the poor!” Oh, they laid into me. Well, of course it could have. But that wasn’t the point that night. The point was to honor Jesus, to give him comfort and love and protection because I knew we wouldn’t be able to protect him from what was ahead...
It was shocking to hear him say it so bluntly, that we wouldn’t always have him with us. I still don’t think they really heard him, or understood. But he let me know I had done the right thing, as wrong as it seemed to everyone else who was there. Seems he was always having to defend me. But this was one time I could show love to him.
He was going to lay down his life for us. I didn’t know what would happen after that. He had talked about being raised on the third day. He had said something to Martha at the tomb about being the resurrection and the life, and “Do you believe this?” But I didn’t know what would be.
But now I do know, and I ask you this: was my action any more “wasteful” than the Son of God pouring out his life for the likes of me? For a humanity that wouldn’t even recognize the gift?
Mary’s act of devotion and worship is unbelievably extravagant, seemingly wasteful. She held nothing back. Do you ever feel that toward Jesus… maybe toward someone else in your life?
The time you are spending now is precious to God… and as we give this much, we begin to look at what we’re holding back and release that too.
4-11- 14 - Who Is This?
Every once in a while I come across a news item about some reality or sports star I’ve never heard of, who has gained some notoriety or picked up another million or so Twitter followers – and I go, “Who the heck is that?” Evidently that’s how some people on the edges of that crowd hailing Jesus with palm branches and “Hosanna!”s felt:
“When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ The crowds were saying, ‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.’”
Some in the crowd recognized him as the Christ, the Messiah. Many assumed that the Messiah would have a military dimension, liberating them from the hated Romans as their forebears had been liberated from Egyptian domination. A greater majority probably saw Jesus as a prophet, for only a prophet sent from God could do the kind of miracles Jesus was doing, and speak with the authority with which he spoke. It was a big deal to be regarded as a prophet – but to be seen as Messiah? That was less likely.
The proportions in that crowd are probably similar to the way Jesus is seen in the world today. To many he is a prophet. Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, and other traditions, as well as some atheists and agnostics, see him as an important world religious figure whose influence cannot be understated. I suspect many who claim the title “Christian” also view him this way, as an important moral teacher and prophet, but not divine. Baha'i see Christ as divine, though somewhat differently than Christians. To creedal Christians, though, and to some in that crowd that day, Jesus had been revealed as more than prophet. He had been shown to be Lord, Adonai, the long-awaited Deliverer.
Many people in our own day still say, when they hear of Jesus, “Who is this?” It is our privilege to make the introductions, to say who we have experienced Jesus to be. We can also be sure people hear of Jesus. We don’t have to spout a party line or to tell other people’s stories – we can speak out of our own experience, and out of our tradition.
This time in our church year, when we mark Holy Week and Easter, is a particularly good time to tell our stories and make our introductions – and invite people to come and experience the story for themselves on Palm Sunday, to hear the scope of God’s love for humanity at the Great Vigil of Easter, to soak up the celebration and joy on Easter Sunday.
And if our experience of Jesus is limited to what we’ve heard or read; if we’re still asking the “Who is this?” question ourselves, then we can ask him to make himself real to us in a new way this year, so that we can receive, and share, the gift more fully.
Wherever we find ourselves in this story, I hope we will share the ministry of that donkey – to bear Christ into the crowds, humble and patient, lifting him up for all to see, getting him to the places he needs to be in order to transform the world.
“When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ The crowds were saying, ‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.’”
Some in the crowd recognized him as the Christ, the Messiah. Many assumed that the Messiah would have a military dimension, liberating them from the hated Romans as their forebears had been liberated from Egyptian domination. A greater majority probably saw Jesus as a prophet, for only a prophet sent from God could do the kind of miracles Jesus was doing, and speak with the authority with which he spoke. It was a big deal to be regarded as a prophet – but to be seen as Messiah? That was less likely.
The proportions in that crowd are probably similar to the way Jesus is seen in the world today. To many he is a prophet. Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, and other traditions, as well as some atheists and agnostics, see him as an important world religious figure whose influence cannot be understated. I suspect many who claim the title “Christian” also view him this way, as an important moral teacher and prophet, but not divine. Baha'i see Christ as divine, though somewhat differently than Christians. To creedal Christians, though, and to some in that crowd that day, Jesus had been revealed as more than prophet. He had been shown to be Lord, Adonai, the long-awaited Deliverer.
Many people in our own day still say, when they hear of Jesus, “Who is this?” It is our privilege to make the introductions, to say who we have experienced Jesus to be. We can also be sure people hear of Jesus. We don’t have to spout a party line or to tell other people’s stories – we can speak out of our own experience, and out of our tradition.
This time in our church year, when we mark Holy Week and Easter, is a particularly good time to tell our stories and make our introductions – and invite people to come and experience the story for themselves on Palm Sunday, to hear the scope of God’s love for humanity at the Great Vigil of Easter, to soak up the celebration and joy on Easter Sunday.
And if our experience of Jesus is limited to what we’ve heard or read; if we’re still asking the “Who is this?” question ourselves, then we can ask him to make himself real to us in a new way this year, so that we can receive, and share, the gift more fully.
Wherever we find ourselves in this story, I hope we will share the ministry of that donkey – to bear Christ into the crowds, humble and patient, lifting him up for all to see, getting him to the places he needs to be in order to transform the world.
4-10-14 - Hosanna!
"The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road.
The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’"
Those who are familiar with this Palm Sunday story often express amazement that the same throng who laud Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem (invariably called “The Triumphal Entry” in Bible section headings…) could a few days later be calling with equal ardor for his crucifixion. It’s not so surprising – anyone who’s ever been a teenager knows how quickly strong and seemingly incompatible emotions can pass through us in swift succession. “I love so-and-so!” “I can’t stand so-and-so!” “I’ll die if you don’t let me go to that concert!” “I’m never leaving my room!”
Okay, you might be thinking, these are supposed to be adults in the crowd, not adolescents. But any rational behavior we might expect from a group of adults (perhaps unrealistic in itself…) is neutralized by the Crowd Effect – which can quickly become mob rule. Something happens to human beings in crowds; normal inhibitions and rational thinking can be overcome by fervent emotion, which can quickly grow destructive. We see it in stadiums, where excitement about a team can turn into a murderous rampage.
And when you add a threat to people’s security, it’s not difficult to see how this crowd turned on Jesus. The temple authorities not-so-subtly suggested that Jesus’ continued activity and renown would awaken the wrath of the Romans, and all their Jewish subjects would suffer. “…It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish,” said the high priest Caiaphas. Anyone who’d witnessed Roman oppression would do much to avoid a repeat occurrence.
In a way, the “crucify him!”s are easier to understand than the adulation when Jesus entered Jerusalem. The chant of the crowd explicitly acknowledges Jesus’ Messiahship as the Son of David. People put their own cloaks on the ground, presumably so the feet of the donkeys’ bearing the holy cargo don’t have to touch the ground. Those who shouted “Hosanna!” were putting their trust in Jesus. When they saw him a few days later, in custody, beaten, seemingly powerless, perhaps their sense of trust felt betrayed, which fueled their rage.
Christians the world over will participate in the reading of that story on Palm Sunday, asked to join the crowd in both the hosannas and the calls for execution. I suspect many have trouble relating to both cries. We’re too familiar with the Jesus story to feel the excitement of recognizing the Messiah, and too removed from oppression to feel a strong need for a savior; and to call for his death feels bewildering. Where do you locate yourself between those positions?
It might be useful to pray your way through the whole story before Sunday (Matthew 26:14- 27:66), being attentive to where you respond, who you relate to as it unfolds. Can you find in yourself that impulse to praise Jesus for who he is to you? If you feel he’s a stranger, if you’re one of the curious in the crowd, you might ask him to show you who he is.
“Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” they shouted, something many of us sing every week in the eucharist. If you feel Jesus has blessed you, tell him. See what that opens up.
The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’"
Those who are familiar with this Palm Sunday story often express amazement that the same throng who laud Jesus on his entry into Jerusalem (invariably called “The Triumphal Entry” in Bible section headings…) could a few days later be calling with equal ardor for his crucifixion. It’s not so surprising – anyone who’s ever been a teenager knows how quickly strong and seemingly incompatible emotions can pass through us in swift succession. “I love so-and-so!” “I can’t stand so-and-so!” “I’ll die if you don’t let me go to that concert!” “I’m never leaving my room!”
Okay, you might be thinking, these are supposed to be adults in the crowd, not adolescents. But any rational behavior we might expect from a group of adults (perhaps unrealistic in itself…) is neutralized by the Crowd Effect – which can quickly become mob rule. Something happens to human beings in crowds; normal inhibitions and rational thinking can be overcome by fervent emotion, which can quickly grow destructive. We see it in stadiums, where excitement about a team can turn into a murderous rampage.
And when you add a threat to people’s security, it’s not difficult to see how this crowd turned on Jesus. The temple authorities not-so-subtly suggested that Jesus’ continued activity and renown would awaken the wrath of the Romans, and all their Jewish subjects would suffer. “…It is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish,” said the high priest Caiaphas. Anyone who’d witnessed Roman oppression would do much to avoid a repeat occurrence.
In a way, the “crucify him!”s are easier to understand than the adulation when Jesus entered Jerusalem. The chant of the crowd explicitly acknowledges Jesus’ Messiahship as the Son of David. People put their own cloaks on the ground, presumably so the feet of the donkeys’ bearing the holy cargo don’t have to touch the ground. Those who shouted “Hosanna!” were putting their trust in Jesus. When they saw him a few days later, in custody, beaten, seemingly powerless, perhaps their sense of trust felt betrayed, which fueled their rage.
Christians the world over will participate in the reading of that story on Palm Sunday, asked to join the crowd in both the hosannas and the calls for execution. I suspect many have trouble relating to both cries. We’re too familiar with the Jesus story to feel the excitement of recognizing the Messiah, and too removed from oppression to feel a strong need for a savior; and to call for his death feels bewildering. Where do you locate yourself between those positions?
It might be useful to pray your way through the whole story before Sunday (Matthew 26:14- 27:66), being attentive to where you respond, who you relate to as it unfolds. Can you find in yourself that impulse to praise Jesus for who he is to you? If you feel he’s a stranger, if you’re one of the curious in the crowd, you might ask him to show you who he is.
“Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” they shouted, something many of us sing every week in the eucharist. If you feel Jesus has blessed you, tell him. See what that opens up.
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