Sermon for the Sunday of the Passion, March 28, 2010

Blessing of Palms, Procession through Times Square & Solemn Mass
By the Reverend Stephen Gerth

Year C: Isaiah 45:21-25; Psalm 22:1-11; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 22:39-23:56

In Luke’s gospel, and especially in his passion narrative, Jesus shows a way for us to recognize God’s continuing presence in our own lives and in our own deaths. In Luke, God is never absent from his son. Luke’s Jesus never cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” as he does in Mark and Matthew.[1] At his arrest in Luke, Jesus knows he has been given over to what he calls “the power of darkness.”[2] But, Luke’s Jesus continues to be sustained by his Father’s presence – and he continues to heal and to forgive.[3]

Again, Luke’s passion gives us a way to understand how we share in God’s life now in our lives – and this sets this passion apart from the others.

In Mark and Matthew, Jesus is abandoned in his arrest, his crucifixion and his death. At the other extreme, in John, Jesus is so much God’s Son that his humanity is almost overshadowed by his divinity. Luke shows us a Jesus who suffers and dies but who is never abandoned by the one he calls Father.

My own thinking about Jesus’ death has been overshadowed for a number of years now by the hold Mark’s passion has had on my heart, my soul.

In Mark, Jesus taught, “Whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”[4] But the first time in Mark Jesus asks anything of his Father, he is in the garden. There is no answer, just an arrest.[5] The only other time Mark’s Jesus asks anything he is in agony on the cross.[6] Here too, there is no answer, just death. It is not too much to say that in Mark Jesus loses his life and his God. I know I shall one day lose my life; but I do not want it include losing the people I have known and loved. And I do not want it to include losing my faith in God.

In the garden, Luke’s Jesus is not, as in Mark and Matthew, “sorrowful and distressed.”[7] Like Mark, Matthew, and John, he tells Peter that his faith will fail. But in Luke he also tells Peter to turn and strengthen his brethren after they realize what they all have done.[8]

When Jesus is arrested, he heals the one who has been cut with a sword.[9] On the way to the cross, he speaks generously to the daughters of Jerusalem.[10] At the cross, Jesus forgives those who crucify him, “for they know not what they do.”[11] Luke dies addressing his Father, “Into your hands, I commend my spirit.”[12]

The words of Jesus from which I sense the greatest hope are those Jesus speaks to thief who repented. The thief knows Jesus is innocent and that he himself is not. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”[13] Jesus responds, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.”[14] The thief is honest about himself with Jesus; and Jesus’ response is eternal life.

Today is the Church’s most ancient celebration of Jesus’ death, the original Good Friday. But this Sunday’s Eucharist has never been only about his Jesus’ death – and certainly, it’s not about the palms. The central belief of our faith is that Jesus died and is risen.

For lots of reasons, and in lots of different ways, over the last two thousand years, too often resurrection has been hidden behind the cross, and God’s presence among us has been hidden behind sin. Even in this church building, images of the resurrection are far fewer than images of crucifixion. For that matter, are there more confessionals than images of the resurrection?

For that last 1500 years, the customary gospel for this Sunday before Easter Day for most Christians until the liturgical reforms of the 1970s was Matthew. Remarkably, Matthew and, for the record, Mark have almost nothing to say about Jesus’ resurrection. It seems to me that not only do Jesus’ death and resurrection happen because God is present, life itself happens because God is not absent from us, but because he dwells with us, in all human life, In Luke’s passion, God shows us that we are not alone or unloved in this life or in the life to come.

And so, we come together today to break bread and to drink the cup in remembrance not just of a death but of the resurrection, the ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit.

Why is it all so hard? Why is there so much that is wrong in this world? In history? These kinds of questions are not answered in the New Testament, except perhaps in John’s gospel, where the disciples ask Jesus whether a man or his parents sinned so that the man was born blind. Jesus replies, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.”[15]

Over and over again in Luke’s gospel, God takes the initiative to come to those who are in need of him – not just the Virgin Mary. Jesus sought out, touched and healed the untouchable.[16] He did not hesitate to break religious rules so that some could be fed[17] or others could be healed.[18] He only turned away those who wanted to judge him, his words and his works. To those who sought God, he brought life.

I don’t know that I can ever erase entirely the impression Mark’s passion has already made on my soul, but I know it’s not the only one. I hope I always know, even in moments of doubt, that there yet may be faith. I hope I am always able to see life itself as the greatest sign of God’s presence and love.

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