Scripture: John 12:9-36
I had a friend from seminary who posted on her facebook page a few days ago, “Is anyone else ready for Lent to be over?”
Let’s face it – the season of Lent can be kind of depressing. I remember a Homer Simpson quote when he had discovered that all the money he spent on a Mardi Gras party was going to cause him to lose his house – and his response was, “Who knew the start of lent would be such a downer?”
All this time of self-reflection, of traveling along with Jesus for forty days as he makes his way to the cross. The hymns are dirgy, the atmosphere is dark. Lent is – well – as Homer said, kind of a downer.
Even my physical therapist the other day commented, “I don’t like Good Friday. It makes me sad. I want to just skip it and move on to Easter.”
And, I have to admit – this year has seemed to be a particularly difficult Lenten season for First Lutheran as well. We’ve had a funeral almost every week for the past several weeks. We’ve had many in our church family who have suffered the loss of beloved family members. It seems almost every day we hear of one tragedy or another – some days more than one at a time.
On a global scale, we’ve watched disasters like the Japanese earthquake and tsunami unfold before our eyes, compounded by their nuclear nightmare. We’ve watched the Middle East erupt into one rebellion and uprising after another, and watched as the United States has seemingly embroiled itself into yet another war.
We have felt the weight of human suffering on an all too regular basis. It’s been a tough forty days. Even the weather hasn’t cooperated much – spawning deadly storms and following a rather schizophrenic pattern of spring/winter/spring/winter.
I know I even posted on my facebook one day that I wished we could just fast-forward to May and be done with all this. After all – Lent is our busy and stressful season.
It’s human nature to want to avoid unpleasantness. We like to avoid the things that are depressing, that make us not feel great about ourselves, that are stressful and difficult to get through. The things that drain us and make us weak.
Most of all, we want to avoid the things that are reminders of our own mortality. The things that remind us we are all living on borrowed time. The things that remind all of us that we do indeed walk through the valley of the shadow of death more often than we realize.
We don’t want to dwell on the negative, the sadness, the suffering.
So let’s fast forward through the unpleasant things – and just focus on the things that make us feel good about ourselves.
And then… I hear Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading: “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say-- 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.”
There was no fast-forward button for Jesus – and if anyone had it within their power to avoid the unpleasant reality of impending death – it was Jesus. But – he didn’t. He acknowledged how necessary it was for him to go to the cross. To enter into torture and pain willingly – and he did it for our benefit. He knew he must enter into that dark day.
We find ourselves in a strange situation on Palm Sunday. We are anticipating Easter, we’re anticipating the Good News of Easter morning… we feel the joy and the triumph of the messiah entering the city of Jerusalem… and we love to talk about the hope and joy of the resurrection – but the start of Holy Week is also an unpleasant reminder that we have to go through Good Friday to get there. It can’t be avoided.
And if we hope to understand the resurrection, it can’t be ignored, either.
Palm Sunday is thus one of those bittersweet sort of days. A mingling of hope with sorrow.
A day when we shout out “Hosanna!” Save us, Lord. But save us from… what? For the people who were in Jerusalem, they were crying out for Jesus to save them from the occupying nation of Rome. When we cry it, many times we usually are asking God to also relieve us from some worldly burden.
Yet that is not the kind of salvation Christ came to bring us. He came to bring us forgiveness of our sins. He came to be present in our suffering not to remove it necessarily. The salvation he offers is salvation from all the things of this world that we cling to instead of God. Salvation from ourselves.
And many of us reject this type of salvation just as much as the people in Jerusalem rejected it. Rejected the fact that Jesus’ kingdom was not of this world and that his salvation was not salvation from Rome or salvation from suffering, from life – but salvation from sin. From those things that we sometimes even like but that continue to separate us from God.
Despite knowing that his type of salvation would be rejected, despite knowing where he was headed, despite knowing what he was about to do – to walk through that valley of death – he continued to offer an invitation to people.
We’ve seen it all through these encounters with Jesus in the Gospel of John that we’ve been preaching on throughout Lent – the calls to trust Jesus, the call to be a disciple. The call to trust him as Mary did at the wedding of Cana. The call to be a witness to the truth like the Samaritan woman. The call to turn from our sinful ways like the adulteress woman and the man healed at the pool. The call to have faith in the giver of life who resurrects the dead – that even in the midst of death, Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. That Jesus is the resurrection and the life. We have seen all these things so that we might believe in him and follow him.
Throughout John’s Gospel it’s always been about “Come and see,” what Jesus is doing. Now as he enters Jerusalem and the crowds hail him and the Greeks, or Gentile world, desire to see him, Jesus makes a shift. He says don’t just come and see – don’t just be a spectator anymore! Come and BE with me. To be his disciple and His follower. Where I am, my servant will be also. Those who follow and serve Christ share in all that he has – they share in Eternal life with him. Jesus calls us into that communion with him.
The problem is… to be with Jesus means where Jesus has to go is where we have to go as well. To the cross. To be with Jesus, to share in all that he has to offer us means Good Friday is a reality for all of us as well. Because Jesus doesn’t get to the resurrection until he goes through death on the cross first.
There’s no fast-forward button. There’s no jumping over the darkness and despair of that valley of death. We are baptized into not just Christ’s resurrection, but his death as well.
The encounters where Jesus has created followers through his actions and deeds now shifts and lets us know… life and death matter to those who follow Jesus. Life and death are the realities of our world and we always live in the midst of those realities.
As followers, we must follow him all the way to Golgotha, all the way to the cross. In John 1, the people asked where Jesus was staying – where could they go to be with Jesus? In our lesson for today, Jesus answers that question – to go and to be with Jesus is to stand at the foot of the cross. For it is there, in the face of the world's many ways of death – poverty, economic collapse, hunger, sickness, war, accidents, natural disasters, man-made disasters – that we are drawn to Jesus.
It is there, in the light of the stark reality of life at its end that we begin to catch a glimpse of life at its fullest and its most glorious.
Jesus promises, "When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” It is for such a time as this that Jesus has brought us to this hour. It is for OUR benefit that we are drawn along with Him to the cross. The voice from heaven calls out and identifies for us the one who is the giver of life – the one who has the power over death itself.
There is nothing like impending death to focus our attention. It isn’t pleasant – but it’s our reality. We are reminded that we are not alone as we journey down that road. That Christ has entered into our suffering and promises to be with us as we are with Him. That as his servants, we are not abandoned, we are not lost and forsaken during the difficult times in our lives.
Jesus has traveled down that road – he goes there with us.
And as we stand at the foot of the cross – as we enter into that hour we all face – we remember that the wonder of Good Friday is that it’s not the end. It is necessary – we can’t jump past it – but it is not the end.
Easter IS coming.
I had a friend from seminary who posted on her facebook page a few days ago, “Is anyone else ready for Lent to be over?”
Let’s face it – the season of Lent can be kind of depressing. I remember a Homer Simpson quote when he had discovered that all the money he spent on a Mardi Gras party was going to cause him to lose his house – and his response was, “Who knew the start of lent would be such a downer?”
All this time of self-reflection, of traveling along with Jesus for forty days as he makes his way to the cross. The hymns are dirgy, the atmosphere is dark. Lent is – well – as Homer said, kind of a downer.
Even my physical therapist the other day commented, “I don’t like Good Friday. It makes me sad. I want to just skip it and move on to Easter.”
And, I have to admit – this year has seemed to be a particularly difficult Lenten season for First Lutheran as well. We’ve had a funeral almost every week for the past several weeks. We’ve had many in our church family who have suffered the loss of beloved family members. It seems almost every day we hear of one tragedy or another – some days more than one at a time.
On a global scale, we’ve watched disasters like the Japanese earthquake and tsunami unfold before our eyes, compounded by their nuclear nightmare. We’ve watched the Middle East erupt into one rebellion and uprising after another, and watched as the United States has seemingly embroiled itself into yet another war.
We have felt the weight of human suffering on an all too regular basis. It’s been a tough forty days. Even the weather hasn’t cooperated much – spawning deadly storms and following a rather schizophrenic pattern of spring/winter/spring/winter.
I know I even posted on my facebook one day that I wished we could just fast-forward to May and be done with all this. After all – Lent is our busy and stressful season.
It’s human nature to want to avoid unpleasantness. We like to avoid the things that are depressing, that make us not feel great about ourselves, that are stressful and difficult to get through. The things that drain us and make us weak.
Most of all, we want to avoid the things that are reminders of our own mortality. The things that remind us we are all living on borrowed time. The things that remind all of us that we do indeed walk through the valley of the shadow of death more often than we realize.
We don’t want to dwell on the negative, the sadness, the suffering.
So let’s fast forward through the unpleasant things – and just focus on the things that make us feel good about ourselves.
And then… I hear Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading: “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say-- 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.”
There was no fast-forward button for Jesus – and if anyone had it within their power to avoid the unpleasant reality of impending death – it was Jesus. But – he didn’t. He acknowledged how necessary it was for him to go to the cross. To enter into torture and pain willingly – and he did it for our benefit. He knew he must enter into that dark day.
We find ourselves in a strange situation on Palm Sunday. We are anticipating Easter, we’re anticipating the Good News of Easter morning… we feel the joy and the triumph of the messiah entering the city of Jerusalem… and we love to talk about the hope and joy of the resurrection – but the start of Holy Week is also an unpleasant reminder that we have to go through Good Friday to get there. It can’t be avoided.
And if we hope to understand the resurrection, it can’t be ignored, either.
Palm Sunday is thus one of those bittersweet sort of days. A mingling of hope with sorrow.
A day when we shout out “Hosanna!” Save us, Lord. But save us from… what? For the people who were in Jerusalem, they were crying out for Jesus to save them from the occupying nation of Rome. When we cry it, many times we usually are asking God to also relieve us from some worldly burden.
Yet that is not the kind of salvation Christ came to bring us. He came to bring us forgiveness of our sins. He came to be present in our suffering not to remove it necessarily. The salvation he offers is salvation from all the things of this world that we cling to instead of God. Salvation from ourselves.
And many of us reject this type of salvation just as much as the people in Jerusalem rejected it. Rejected the fact that Jesus’ kingdom was not of this world and that his salvation was not salvation from Rome or salvation from suffering, from life – but salvation from sin. From those things that we sometimes even like but that continue to separate us from God.
Despite knowing that his type of salvation would be rejected, despite knowing where he was headed, despite knowing what he was about to do – to walk through that valley of death – he continued to offer an invitation to people.
We’ve seen it all through these encounters with Jesus in the Gospel of John that we’ve been preaching on throughout Lent – the calls to trust Jesus, the call to be a disciple. The call to trust him as Mary did at the wedding of Cana. The call to be a witness to the truth like the Samaritan woman. The call to turn from our sinful ways like the adulteress woman and the man healed at the pool. The call to have faith in the giver of life who resurrects the dead – that even in the midst of death, Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. That Jesus is the resurrection and the life. We have seen all these things so that we might believe in him and follow him.
Throughout John’s Gospel it’s always been about “Come and see,” what Jesus is doing. Now as he enters Jerusalem and the crowds hail him and the Greeks, or Gentile world, desire to see him, Jesus makes a shift. He says don’t just come and see – don’t just be a spectator anymore! Come and BE with me. To be his disciple and His follower. Where I am, my servant will be also. Those who follow and serve Christ share in all that he has – they share in Eternal life with him. Jesus calls us into that communion with him.
The problem is… to be with Jesus means where Jesus has to go is where we have to go as well. To the cross. To be with Jesus, to share in all that he has to offer us means Good Friday is a reality for all of us as well. Because Jesus doesn’t get to the resurrection until he goes through death on the cross first.
There’s no fast-forward button. There’s no jumping over the darkness and despair of that valley of death. We are baptized into not just Christ’s resurrection, but his death as well.
The encounters where Jesus has created followers through his actions and deeds now shifts and lets us know… life and death matter to those who follow Jesus. Life and death are the realities of our world and we always live in the midst of those realities.
As followers, we must follow him all the way to Golgotha, all the way to the cross. In John 1, the people asked where Jesus was staying – where could they go to be with Jesus? In our lesson for today, Jesus answers that question – to go and to be with Jesus is to stand at the foot of the cross. For it is there, in the face of the world's many ways of death – poverty, economic collapse, hunger, sickness, war, accidents, natural disasters, man-made disasters – that we are drawn to Jesus.
It is there, in the light of the stark reality of life at its end that we begin to catch a glimpse of life at its fullest and its most glorious.
Jesus promises, "When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” It is for such a time as this that Jesus has brought us to this hour. It is for OUR benefit that we are drawn along with Him to the cross. The voice from heaven calls out and identifies for us the one who is the giver of life – the one who has the power over death itself.
There is nothing like impending death to focus our attention. It isn’t pleasant – but it’s our reality. We are reminded that we are not alone as we journey down that road. That Christ has entered into our suffering and promises to be with us as we are with Him. That as his servants, we are not abandoned, we are not lost and forsaken during the difficult times in our lives.
Jesus has traveled down that road – he goes there with us.
And as we stand at the foot of the cross – as we enter into that hour we all face – we remember that the wonder of Good Friday is that it’s not the end. It is necessary – we can’t jump past it – but it is not the end.
Easter IS coming.
May I interpret based on what you've said here: to follow Christ is to embrace the Memento Mori inherent in His temptation, trial, and death. A world that turns a profit by filling our empty moments with piffle will always resist such a call. But that very turning away from trivial distractions that alienates the world from Christ makes meaning for our souls. Am I getting your point?
ReplyDeleteThank you for posting these—the boy who was laid up sick Sunday morning appreciates getting to read the message he missed.