April 13, 2025

Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion

Luke 19:28-40; 23:1-56

Epiphany, Winnipeg

We started the day welcoming Jesus into the city with a procession and palms and songs, and the story of Holy Week began. It started out with a party and then in such a short time it took this tragic turn, with faithful disciples turning out to be fearful and fleeing, and the women who stayed close to Jesus left bewildered and shocked by what just happened. So much happens in such a short time, not much more than a day or two, or just a few chapters in the Bible, or just twenty five minutes of so of our life here. So much happens in so short a time that it all just seems to happen all at once.

Right now, as we speak, some people’s lives are like the big party in the Palm Sunday street. They’re full of hope, and they’ve got this feeling that what’s happening now is a good thing, and what’s gone wrong will start to go right. The right person has finally come along, and things will finally come together.

Right now there are people who celebrate, because a child is born or lovers fell in love, or it finally looks like peace is in the air and a ceasefire will come. It’s a party for good reasons and hope is all around . Do you see the celebration in the air? Watch for the Palm Sunday joy on those faces on the screens today.

Are you hopeful now? You’re pretty sure that good things are on their way and there’s so much to celebrate? That’s great; Welcome, this is your story.

Right now, as we speak, some peoples’ lives are like the lives of Jesus’ disciples; the ones who followed him and learned from him and even did some of the great things that he did. The ones who partied with that crowd as they all welcomed Jesus, the ones who were at a great Passover feast with Jesus and who swore that they’d be faithful followers. Then they just left when the story started to fall apart. Now they live with their fear and they live with their shame.

Do you see the celebration in the air? Watch for the Palm Sunday joy on those faces. But look a little closer, and in with all that joy there’s lost hope or fear or guilt or shame going on for so many people under the mask of the waving of palms.

Is that you? Do the stories of those disciples sound a lot like your story? Welcome to this story.

Right now, as we speak, some peoples’ lives are like the life of Jesus that was just told. He’s not the only one to have suffered…. The first bit of news I heard this morning was of missiles and dying in one place, and a hospital bombed in another. So much suffering all over. We’ve seen stories of people who are wrongly imprisoned, or put on trial in courts where the the game is against them from the start. We see Jesus being left alone, and in the end there’s no one but a few friends and one stranger who will give him the the loyalty and honour he deserves. Even now, today, there are people who die alone.

See those Palm Sunday scenes. Do you see the celebration in the air? Watch for the Palm Sunday joy on those faces. And look a little closer and see that there are people there who still hurt and are a bit lost – these days we call it trauma – because of what has happened to them or what they have seen happen.

Have you seen or heard enough of those kinds of stories? Or does a story of being abandoned or being alone sound a little too close to home? You are welcomed into this story.

The story of the life of the world, where our lives have a place too, doesn’t have a nice smooth plot. All the things are happening everywhere, all at once. If we took all those stories and put them on the table and tried to put them together, like a fifteen hundred piece jigsaw puzzle on the dining room table, you and I couldn't put all the pieces together into a picture that all made sense. We can’t put the scattered stories in order so that life really has a simple beginning, and middle, and end.

Then this Holy Week story takes all the scattered pieces and puts them into a big picture, so that even when everything seems at its worst we see a promise that it will all come together again. It will.

Did you notice the last little bit of the story as we just heard it today? “On the sabbath they rested, according to the commandment.” After all of those events that just seemed to spin out of control, they rested. A few women, who had followed Jesus from Galilee over weeks and weeks and miles and miles, saw the tomb where Jesus lay, and they rested. All the tragedy of the last twenty four hours finally ended, and they rested, just trusting in the God who they had heard all their lives would bring order out of chaos, and would free those who are slaves, and would keep on somehow making life where it really seemed like there was only death.

This story of our faith takes all these pieces that don’t hang together and gathers them up, and then calls us sometimes just to rest when it seems like the tomb is the end of the story. This Holy Week story calls us to remember that even when it seems like that tomb is the end of the story, God’s story that is now our story is a story about life and love that will always break through.

Four months ago we welcomed a new king into the world again, who was not born in a palace but to a poor couple looking for accommodation far away from home. Hardly a royal beginning. Thirty minutes ago (?) we joined that Jerusalem crowd as we welcomed that same king, now all grown up, with simple palm crosses (that a few of us tried to remember how to make yesterday). This morning we didn’t throw our coats on the ground, but we waved those crosses, awkwardly or enthusiastically. We waved and sang and said “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” A king? We’re joining crowds today, like the ones we’ve seen on the screen from all over the world with all that joy on the surface and the sorrow just beneath, and we still keep believing with them that this king we welcome is bringing the peace on earth that the angels proclaimed at his birth.

The king we welcome comes as a different sort of royalty. This one comes on a donkey; there’s no horse or chariot or motorcade or black limo with tinted windows. This one comes with no secret service or police escort or even armed thugs who are paid for protection. This king we welcome comes only with the company of a crowd on the streets and a few disciples and friends.

This one we call king still shows us a kingdom where the ones who are in prison, even the guilty one on the cross next door, will be present and at home; where even those who take the king's own life are forgiven; where all the ones who have left him will be welcomed; where those who have been forgotten are remembered. This one we call king shapes us into a people who will do the same, and we will welcome and forgive and remember.

The one we call king puts aside all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto and becomes a servant who gives his life, for you, for me, for all, for all creation – even the stones will sing praise, he says.

Welcome to this Holy Week. Welcome to this story that is our story too.