Palm Sunday Sermon

The last week of Jesus’ life was enormously important.

Regardless of what you believe or understand of what Jesus’ crucifixion means, clearly all the gospel writers understood this week to be the culmination of his three-year ministry. Just look how much each of the gospels devote to the last week of his life. Matthew and Mark each commit about a third of their gospel to that week. For Luke, it’s about a quarter. And John (our patron saint!) allocates half his gospel to this last week alone.

For three years Jesus preached what the Kingdom of God was all about. For three years he lived what the Kingdom of God was all about – revealing a kingdom where love of God and love of neighbor truly were a radically possible way to live. And all along the way he called people to join him, to share in this way of life, rejecting our allegiance to self-centeredness and fear, and choosing instead, compassion and hope.

And the people loved what they saw! They loved what they received from this long-hoped-for Messiah.

And then came the Week of the Passion, the summation of his entire ministry. Jesus arrived on Sunday in a clearly orchestrated way to indicate that he was entering Jerusalem very much in the role of Messiah. And the people were thrilled – at least the throngs of pilgrims arriving with him from Galilee – those same people who’d witnessed the bulk of his ministry for these past few years.

But once he arrived, and once and the palm-waving was over, Jesus’ message took on a very different tone from what they’d experienced in the previous three years. Beyond proclamation, beyond demonstration, he now began a prophetic ministry of outright denunciation.

On Monday he shows up in the temple courts and overthrows the tables, thereby rejecting the whole cultural system that had built up around temple worship. For good or for ill, this was the only way people had ever experienced worship in the temple, and he rejects it all – with violence! You can just imagine the furious conversations that erupted all over Jerusalem Monday night, and the energy that was galvanizing against him.

So it’s no surprise that on Tuesday, when he returns to the temple courts, the chief priests and the teachers and the elders accost him, “What on earth do you think you’re doing? What authority do you have (you upstart Messiah from Nazareth!)? And he answers so shrewdly that they’re silenced. Then he preaches a parable denouncing them, and they knew he talking about them. And from that point on they were ready to arrest him. But he didn’t stop there. He took on the Pharisees and Herodians as well. And then the Sadducees – all the people who held power in Jewish society came under his public rebuke.

In Matthew’s version of the story Jesus is even more severe. Seven times he repeats, “Woe to you, scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites” and goes on to call out these “blind fools” for their hypocrisy. “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees…you hypocrites! You’re like whitewashed tombs which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full dead men’s bones…You are full of hypocrisy and wickedness” (Matthew 23:37-28).

Is it any surprise that Jesus ended up on the cross?

And how did he get there? On Wednesday, his own disciple agreed to betray him. Why? Who knows. Most likely, something in who Jesus turned out to be disappointed him. Angered him.

But our job is not to denounce Judas. Or to denounce the scribes and the pharisees. As if we were in a position to do any such thing. For as much as we say we want to be like Jesus – as much as we point to his words and teaching to be the principals by which we live – the reality is not nearly so tidy as all that.

We are such complex people. We do have faith and we do have love, and wherever it appears, this is a thing of beauty, of God-in-us.

But in most cases, the way of Jesus is more aspirational than it is descriptive of the way we actually live. Because we also harbor a significant degree of doubt and a robust share of hypocrisy.

So long as the message at church is “Jesus loves you; Jesus shows you mercy,” we’re all content. So long as the ministry of the church is visiting us in the hospital and praying for our good and making lovely music and preaching soothing messages, we’re quite satisfied. (And those are good and worthy things, in their place.)

But what if we began to denounce the emptiness of our well-ordered liturgies? Or to call out the disparity between how much we spend on our own pampering and amusements and home improvements compared to how much we share with those who have little? What if we began to name partisan political agendas of injustice and cruelty? This would not go down well, I assure you!

But please be clear, I’m not putting myself in the role of Jesus and you in the role of the hypocrites. I’m a hypocrite, too. Every time I read a story where Jesus takes on the “chief priests” I shudder. I know the title of my profession all too well. I too am called “priest,” and deservedly come under Jesus’ rebuke. I am just as prone to choose comfort and security and self-righteousness to defend my reputation and my spending habits and my political opinions.

Following Jesus is not easy. How could it be? How could it be! when he has already warned us that following him with any seriousness will at some point require us to take up our cross?

I remember being in Israel, walking some dusty trail. I was watching the dust collect on my sandals and praying, with many impassioned words, that I wanted to walk as Jesus walked and live like Jesus lived. And I meant it. I really did. Then I rounded a corner. There before me stood a huge cross. And I realized with dismay just how thin and undeveloped my prayers and my discipleship actually were.

Jesus got himself killed because he called out the hypocrisy of a people who claimed to be following God, who had all the right words and all the right costumes and all the right ceremonies, but who were – in truth – far more committed to the security their niche in this world provided.

And if we are going to be honest in our discipleship, we’re going to have to be brave enough and humble enough to face just how deeply entrenched we are in the Kingdom of this world. For these allegiances are very strong: all our perceived rights, our political agendas, the American economy, our constant need for entertainment… all of these have far more claim on us than we’re comfortable admitting.

But let us be clear: repenting from these self-serving addictions will be a lifelong endeavor because – far more than church – it is the culture that has formed us in how we think and what we believe and what we desire. And let us also be clear: these same cultural values can very easily manifest within the culture of the church.

But we are following Jesus who offers another way. Love God. Love your neighbor. Lay down your life for the other’s good.

It all feels like cost, I know. It all feels like sacrifice and loss. And I suppose in some ways it is. Jesus certainly wept in the garden, begging his father in heaven that, if there were any other way than the way of the cross, could he please have that instead.

But what else are we to do? The way of Jesus is the truer way. And should we actually arrive on the other side of loss, we might finally discover it to be the way of riches and joy, for it will have been the way of love. But whether we choose this way of love, or not, the day is certainly coming when we will arrive on the other side of death. And there, before the throne of God, what do we hope to show for this good life God has given us?