LAKE JAMES

NORTH CAROLINA

Palm Sunday + April 9, 2006 + St. Paul’s, Lake James

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Some time ago while out driving, I saw a small caravan of police cars and I wondered what was happening. They were driving in the middle of a three lane highway, not especially fast, no sirens wailing, just those piercing flashing blue lights. Being (as I often am) in the “fast lane,” I soon passed them and, as I passed, glanced into the windows of the cars and saw, in the back seats, people who were obviously prisoners. I wondered what they had done, or whether they were actually guilty. Then I wondered what they were thinking as the rest of us passed by in our cars, and then I turned the radio on and forgot all about them as the sports news came on.

One of the factors common to the two Gospels we heard this morning, (that is the Palm Gospel and the Passion according to St. Mark) is that, in both, Jesus is going from one place to another. In the Palm Gospel, he is entering Jerusalem on a donkey. In the Passion, he is going from the Praetorium to Calvary. In each instance, he is something of a curiosity and I suspect people may have stopped to stare, and wonder, until the equivalent of the sports news distracted them.

Have you ever wondered what the onlookers really thought as they watched the young rabbi on the donkey? Or have you ever wondered what people really felt as they jeered and spat at the tattered and bruised figure struggling under the weight of the heavy, rough cross as he staggered along the Via Dolorosa – the “Way of Sorrows?” Some people in the first crowd shouted “Hosannah! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” Some in the second crowd shouted “Crucify him!” but I suspect most of the on-lookers did neither. Instead, the spectators were probably just that, spectators – people who simply happened to be near, people whose attention was briefly attracted by a spectacle, but who soon drifted away, back to their own preoccupations and concerns, largely untouched by what they had seen.

The fact is that, while there were and are some truly committed Christians whose shouts of “Hosannah” are lived out in devotion to the Lord, and sadly, while there were and are some whose bitter rejection of Jesus and His Church result in intense opposition, much of the world really couldn’t care less one way or the other! For many centuries, although Christians have received palms on this day and walked in processions singing “All glory, laud, and honor be to Thee, Redeemer, King,” the rest of the world has calmly passed by, going about its business, ignoring the whole thing. Despite the fact that you and I are here, worshiping in this parish church this morning, in which category do you suppose we really fall? Most of us have at least an occasional ambivalence toward God’s incursions into our lives. There are times when, by God’s grace, we are deeply moved, times when we care intensely about God and experience profound love for the Lord. But there are other times, too, when, like the curious onlookers, it really doesn’t seem to matter very much.

Consider this: on his way into Jerusalem, Jesus didn’t hop off the donkey, rush up to bystanders and shake them violently to try to make them care. On his way to being executed, when he was struggling under the weight of the cross, he didn’t scream “believe in me!” at the spectators. Both then and through the centuries which have passed, his way is quietly to go on about his work. His loving intercession for this confused world never stops, nor does his gift of grace stop being given, especially through the Sacraments, enabling humans to live the lives to which they are called.

Let me add a personal note at this point. In the Episcopal Church of the Advent in Boston, the parish where I was baptized, there is a wooden statue which is about three feet tall. It is Jesus Christ the King. Dressed in the Eucharistic Vestments of a Priest, He stands with hands outstretched. Below that figure is a bank of votive candles, their flames signifying the prayers of people who have knelt and prayed there. The church tends to be rather dark so, unless one looks for it, that small shrine is easy to miss, an example of typical Anglican understatement! But that statue is a vivid image I carry in my mind. At times when I have ignored the will of God, choosing to do what I wanted instead, the picture of that simple statue has come to me and I have experienced the tremendous pull which Jesus can have in one’s heart and mind. His outstretched hands seem to express both his gentle remonstrance and his invitation to repentance. For me, at least, that statue has been a quietly powerful influence in pulling me back where I belong. Perhaps there is an equivalent something in your life, some symbol or memory which, in moments of temptation or sin, helps call you back to God.

In many ways, liturgy is one of the Church’s gifts which can help recall us from our indifferent ways to a renewed dedication to our Redeemer and King. This great holy day – Palm Sunday – and the other dramatic rites of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter, are all given to recall us to be the Christians we profess and wish to be, to emerge from inappropriate roles as bystanders or spectators and to get back about our Father’s business. Will this coming week be a holy week for you – or just the days between now and Easter Day? Will the liturgies of the coming days be just some extra services to attend if convenient, if you happen to be “in the mood” or will they be opportunities you seize to deepen your relationship with a loved Savior?

Unlike a priest gazing into the windows of police cars, wondering who those prisoners are, you and I know who it is riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. We know who it is stumbling painfully along the Way of Sorrows, bowed down under the weight of the cross. We do know – don’t we?

+ In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

The Rev’d Alfred T. K. Zadig, Sr.

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