The Way of the Cross

Sunday of the Palms/Passion
Year B

Readings: Isaiah 42:21-25; Psalm 22:1-11; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 14:1-15:47

This is perhaps the strangest celebration of the church year. We began our service with the blessing of palm branches and a joyous procession. In it, all the emotions of expectation, anticipation and messianic fervour are reenacted. Yet we know that Christ's entry into Jerusalem led directly to his crucifixion. That knowledge is reflected in our service. The reading of the Passion overpowers the joyous beginning. It is highly dramatic. It becomes the focus of our worship. For with that reading, we enter into Holy Week. Our journey becomes the way of the cross until we stand at its very foot. We travel a road which leads us into the shock and disappointment of the story.

If we allow ourselves, we enter into the world that the followers of Jesus experienced two thousand years ago. It is a world which yearns for the coming of the kingdom. Our lives incline towards it. Yet we enter Holy Week as people who know the outcome. We have Jesus figured out. Or do we?

It is difficult to imagine the change in mood that took place from the entry into Jerusalem to the time of the crucifixion. How could a crowd one day shout "Hosanna", and the next, pick up that terrible chant, "Crucify"! Or is it so difficult to imagine? Perhaps the heart of the matter is that we can so easily pick out our own voices in the crowd.

There are many voices in the story, many points of view. There are those who know Jesus intimately, his faithful followers. They have heard the rumours about their leader. They are confused and frightened by what they hear. They don’t know what to believe. And what’s more they are afraid for their own lives.

There are those who look to Jesus as a King, a Messiah who will magically free them from the tyranny of Rome, one who will make it heaven on earth. What hope springs in their hearts!

There are those who are looking for a zealot to lead them into battle. Not a man on a donkey for them, but a warrior on a white steed leading the charge! How disappointed they will be!

Many know Jesus as a worker of miracles. For them he is a placebo in an otherwise deplorable situation! He is their last hope.

The entire crowd, no matter who they are, they all get caught up in the excitement of the moment. ‘Mob' mentality takes over.

I look at the people in the story, and I realize that I could have been any one of them. I'd like to think I'm the woman who lavished her costly gift on Jesus. There he was in Bethany sitting at the table when she came in with the alabaster jar of ointment. She didn't just pour out a little. She broke open the jar and poured out its whole lavish contents. The fragrance must have filled the house.

I don't want to think that I could be Judas, sitting at table with him, sharing in that Passover meal, knowing the terrible deed that I was going to participate in. It would be terrible to even consider that it all rests on me. What on earth was Judas thinking? Was Jesus such a disappointment? Was it not happening fast enough, or in the way he thought it should? Was he only in it for what he could get out of it? And when it didn't happen the way he thought it should, he simply opted out? Do I simply opt out when life gets difficult or when things are not going my way? Am I a Christian only for what I get out of it?

And there is Peter. I feel such ambiguity in seeing myself as Peter. Jesus had just given him that name. He was Simon, but Jesus chose to call him Peter, Rocky. The strong one on whom the church would be built. And where is Peter, the rock, the strong one, the dependable one, when Jesus needs him? Where am I when Jesus needs me? Looking for a safe place to hide? Following at a safe distance? Oh, in the heat of the moment I can be brave enough. I'm the impulsive one who grabs the sword and attacks the weakest person I can find, the one who isn't likely to fight back. But in the end, I desert him. I don't want to take the risk of being found to be a follower of Christ. And so I deny that I know him.

Surely I'm not Pilate. My decisions don't come from a desire for power. I base them on the truth. Or do I? Is Jesus the King in my life? Or am I willing to let the crowd rule? Am I swayed by peer pressure? Do I give in to the demands of society?

O God! I can understand them all. Why is it that I know each of them so well? When have I abandoned you? Handed you over to the authorities? Followed from a distance so that I won't be noticed? Do I have to be forced to carry your cross? Do I become a part of the mob, unwilling to risk standing out in the crowd? Am I afraid of being noticed?

The story invites us in. But the way of the cross is the way of risk and suffering. We don't line up for the privilege, but we all eventually carry some of the world's guilt, pain, and suffering. We don't always deserve it. Some of the really great people, the Martin Luther King's, the Mother Teresa's of our world, actually seek out opportunities to carry a cross of suffering or self-sacrifice. But most of us are compelled. Dragged kicking and screaming into service! Be warned! Know that it is a service which we must enter if we are to arrive at Easter and experience the joy of resurrection.

May this truly be a holy week! May we with the Centurion, stand at the foot of the cross and see that truly this Jesus we follow is God's son. Amen.