A New Language - a Meditation for Palm Sunday

A Meditation for Palm Sunday (RCL B) 4-1-2012

Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts:              Mark 11:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-9a; Mark 14:1-15:47

Themes:         the experiences of holy week

Title:               A New Language

Speaking with remarkable insight, the great teacher and founder of the Sufi tradition, the 13^th century mystic named Rumi, once gave this advice:

“Speak a new language so that the world will be a new world.”  

My dear brothers and sisters: that is exactly what this remarkable and Holy Week is all about – learning to speak a new language so that we might renew our world!

The events which we remember and re-live this week are given to us so that we can create a new language, a new means by which we can interpret and understand the circumstances of our lives.

So much of life depends upon our perspective, upon the lens through which we view reality.

This week, we are invited to create a new perspective, a new lens. Not the one handed down to us by the power-hungry in Washington. Not the one sold to us by the money-hungry in the media.

But the lens of the God-hungry, the simple people who long for truth and beauty and hope and love.  

By walking through this Week with Jesus, we are invited to see our lives in a new way through these events. We are invited to speak a new language.

This week,

We are entering the city in a joyous procession, singing Hosanna in the highest.

Then, we are anointing the Lord’s head in preparation for what is to come.

We are eating the Passover meal with the Lord.

We are breaking bread together.

We are washing one another’s feet.

We are watching with the Lord is Gethsemane, and we are falling asleep as our eyes grow heavy.

We are betraying a friend with a kiss.

We are denying our friend three times, cursing all the while.

We are watching the innocent suffer at the hands of the powerful.

We are caught up in the frenzy of the crowd.

We are watching the crown of thorns forced onto his head.

We are carrying the cross, we are bearing the Passion.

We are standing with Mary at the foot of the cross.

We are listening to the crowd as they mock him and taunt him.

We are watching him breath his last.

We are watching as his body is placed in the tomb.

We are waiting through the quiet nothingness of Saturday.

Finally, in the darkness of Saturday evening, we light a new fire, because we know that the Son rises out of the darkness of night.

This is our journey in this Holy Week. You are invited to walk in it, to walk through it.

You are invited to “Speak a new language so that the world will be a new world.” 

For this is indeed the faith of the Church: this week marks the turning point of human history.

And when we gather here once again at the beginning of next week, we will be standing on the other side, having passed with Christ through death and into a brand new world where nothing will ever, ever be the same. Amen. 

Two Different Processions

A Palm Sunday meditation (RCL A) 4-17-2011, offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Matthew 21:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-9a; Ps. 31:9-16; Phil. 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14-27:66

And so we hear once more the entire sweep of this compelling, and amazing, and holy week. Beginning just outside the holy city of Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives, then entering into the city for a time of conflict and struggle, a time of judgment and pain, and ending once more outside of the city, at Golgotha, ending with a sealed stone across the entrance of a tomb.

But there is even more to this story than what we have heard here today. Every year in the springtime, just before the Passover festival was to begin, Pontius Pilate rode from his primary seaside residence in Caesarea up into Jerusalem. He entered the west side of the city sitting on his imperial steed, flanked by rows of Roman soldiers, in a clear show of force, intending to display to all the citizens of the city that Rome was in charge, and who it was they would have to deal with if they caused any trouble for the empire.

But this particular spring, there was another procession entering the city at the same time. This other procession entered into the east side of Jerusalem, coming up from the Kidron Valley, with Jesus of Nazareth sitting upon his royal mount – the humble donkey, flanked by rows of cheering, peasant disciples, in a clear show of spiritual force, intending to display to everyone that Rome was not in charge after all, and who it was that this empire would have to deal with from this time forward.

Do we wonder then why the whole city was in turmoil? Do we wonder then why, since those fateful days, every nation on earth, every human community has been challenged and changed by the message about what this Jesus has done, the truth told about who he is?

Are we ready for how this one – this one killed by the imperial forces and their allies – how he might continue to challenge us and to change our lives, our families, our communities?

This is Holy Week. Walk into it, enter fully into it, with an attentive mind, and an open heart, ready for surprise and wonder, and for powerful, transforming grace. Amen.

The Majestic Lion

A Sermon offered for Palm Sunday 2009

The flaming banners of our King, advance through his self-offering.
He lived to rob death of its sting; he died eternal life to bring.
The best are shamed before that wood; the worst gain power to be good.
O grant, most blessed Trinity, that all may share the victory (The Hymnal, # 161).

On this day of mixed emotions, we gaze upon the passion of our Lord and upon his broken, beaten, crucified body upon the cross. Through a travesty of justice, he stands condemned by cowardly men who lived afraid of the truth, too intent on protecting their own power and privilege to risk being interrupted by God.
And yet we can rightly glory in the triumph of this Passion, for we know that this is a pivot point of history, a point of no return after which life on earth can never be the same. With Saint Paul, we can boast above all else in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to us and us to the world (Galatians 6:14).

Our Lenten journey has brought us all the way to this point – to the Cross, to the choice that our Lord has made to empty himself even to the point of death on the cross.
Here we see in clearest detail the passionate love of God that will stop at nothing to achieve reconciliation with us.
Here in the Gospel of Mark, we do not see a meek and mild Lamb being led quietly to the slaughter. Not in the slightest. Here I see a bold and strong Lion who will not back down even in the face of death, One who sets his face like flint and who walks with determination straight toward his enemy, knowing with confidence that his Father is with him. Mark gives us this picture of the Master who is in control of the situation: he knows where they will celebrate the Passover, he knows of Judas’ treachery; he knows of Peter’s denials; he speaks with boldness before Pilate and the Sanhedrin. He does not shrink back from the truth, even though it means the agony of feeling forsaken by his Father, feeling separated from the Father.

Here in his Passion, our Lord offers himself as food for the world. This is the mystery which we celebrate and receive each time we gather here at the Table of the Lord. When we distribute the bread of communion, you may notice a wonderful symmetry between the words and the actions of the distribution. We say, “the body of Christ”, as we raise the sacred host before each person. For just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so the body of the Son of Man must be lifted high upon the cross, so that all those who trust him may have eternal life (John 3:14-15).

After this we say, “the bread of heaven” as we lower the bread into the hands of each one, for the Israelites ate the manna in the desert and died, but our Lord is in fact the true bread which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world (John 6:49-51).

The Son lifted up on the cross for our redemption; the manna coming down from heaven to feed our hungry souls. All of it right here in the Passion of our Lord, all of it right here at the turning point of history.

And standing before the authorities and rulers in Jerusalem, our Lord made the good confession. He declared the truth about his own identity and the world. “I am the Son of the Blessed One, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of God and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:62). He did not shrink back in fear, but he pushed forward with faith and confidence in the one who would never leave him nor forsake him, the Father of all.

On Good Friday, we have scheduled times for confession before both of the Good Friday liturgies. In the Anglican tradition, we call this the Reconciliation of a Penitent. I know that many of you are not familiar with this rite, but it is right there in our prayer book and it has been part of our worship since the days of Thomas Cranmer. Following the guidance of scripture, we do not teach that private confession is a requirement to partake of the precious body and blood of our Lord. Each person must examine and prepare themselves; this is a matter of conscience. However, in many parts of the Church, there has been a long-standing practice of making a formal, complete, sacramental confession at least once or twice a year, most especially during the seasons of Advent and Lent, before the great festivals of the Incarnation and the Resurrection. But simply because this practice is not required, does not mean that it is not beneficial.

On Friday, there is time available for each person to come individually, to sit together with me before the cross of our Lord, to pray together and to make a full and complete confession of everything on your conscience, and then to receive the gift of absolution. For me and for many others who have made use of this rite, this is a wonderful gift, an opportunity to lay down all the burdens of our past and to partake again of the redemption made by our Lord for us in the most direct and deliberate way. The classic guidance for this practice of private confession among Anglicans is this: “All may; none must; some should.” All are welcome to make use of this gift. None are required to do so. Some need to make use of it to find healing for past sins which weigh heavy on the heart.

For there is healing power in the blood of the Lamb, shed upon the cross for our redemption, offered by the One who comes as a conquering Lion to claim victory over the forces of death and hell. As we begin this Holy Week together, God calls us to lay aside everything that distracts us, and to walk with our Lord in this way of his suffering. For as we trace again his footsteps, we draw near once more to the strength, healing and grace of new and eternal life in Jesus Christ. Trust in him; walk with him; and you will experience this new life within you, a life that death cannot quench.