It is a time to put ourselves into the gospel stories as human imperfection, pathos, and resurrection unfold. It is a time for poetry—for expression of what we sense it means for our life, far more than explanation of how it all happened exactly. Because in the end, and the beginning of faith, the great promises of Holy Week are more than something special that happened to Jesus. They are real and revealed ever anew in the rhythms of our ordinary lives.
This Sunday in worship we celebrate Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. It’s a grand parody of victorious procession—a conquering royal hero vanquishing foes. Except no ruler by fear, this is the Prince of Peace. His ministry approaches culmination. His impact reaches contentious climax. His life will come to an end. We understand events of Holy Week, especially Jesus’ death on the cross, most faithfully in relation to everything that comes before and after. Why his way lead to the cross. Why authorities of Rome and religion wanted to kill him. How, in the power of God’s love, that wasn’t the end of the story…
Jesus calls on his followers to look at him, not through the eyes of the world, but through the refractive grace of the Holy Spirit. Without the Spirit’s lens on the events to follow, we see only one more Jewish insurrectionist executed by the Romans. …The truth of that moment that resonates through the generations is that, in that moment, when Jesus is lifted up on the cross, and in the days that follow, people saw the divine revealed through the humanity of Jesus. Through the lens of Jesus, our vision of God is corrected, and the world around us is brought back into focus.
Whatever we do together—in our sanctuary and elsewhere in our community—I believe that’s what God wants us to be and to share. Jesus says he is that temple of God’s presence and power in the world. And through the resurrection, we believe we become the body of Christ. We are built together as the temple, the spiritual dwelling place of God.
Often through the history of faith, we seem to have preferred ordered process more than mystical experience. For good reason—as we remember how life is threatened in times of chaos. I trust that our lives and world are far better for all when ordered by Divine Love. I work for that order. Yet, we also have experiences and insights that cannot be rationally explained. And to try “ordering” them in our hearts or minds would be to diminish or lose completely the power they have to move us.
The ways we communicate abound, of course—email, text, social media, phone, TV, YouTube, music, good ‘ol fashion newspapers and magazines, even hand-written cards and letters. Then, of course, there’s face to face conversation. We humans are made to relate and will always find new ways to do so. The question is: what do we say? What is worthy of us sharing, expressing, reposting, passing along?
“….But it was more important to be loving and hospitable than to be right.”
First glimpses rarely provide complete understanding. And often our perceptions are quite wrong….We could probably all share times in life when first perceptions of a person or situation proved false. Why is our perception at first so faulty? Filters of memories and cultural messages that we associate with the person or situation color and distort what we see.
All humans look for meaning and purpose. And cultural messages often tell us we’re valuable and good enough, even lovable … when we’ve accomplished something. When we’ve acquired things. When we’ve earned recognition and proved that we are worthy….And yet, for true deep and lasting peace, I believe our hearts and minds and spirits need to be drawn beyond our selves, whatever our successes or stumbles along the way in life.
“Once upon a time there was a man who looked upon Christmas as a lot of humbug. He wasn’t a Scrooge. He was a kind and decent person, generous to his family, upright in all his dealings with others. But he didn’t believe all that stuff about Incarnation which churches proclaim at Christmas. And he was too honest to pretend that he did. “