Sermon preached by The Rev’d Neil Fernyhough, March 16, 2008 (Palm Sunday).
Readings: Matthew 21:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 27:11-54.
“I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” – Mt 27:24
There is something a little surreal about Palm Sunday. We begin our liturgy re-enacting the triumphal entry of the messiah, the son of David, into Jerusalem. The crowd waves palm branches and cast their cloaks before him. Jesus, at the height of his earthly power and influence, enters the capital like a king about to be enthroned, on the verge of inaugurating a new golden age of Israel’s might. Yet, no sooner do we finish recollecting this parade then there is a sickening turn of events. We are plunged into the darkness of the Passion narrative, that same rejoicing crowd turning against the Son of Man, demanding his execution. And so we end the day foreseeing an enthronement, of sorts: the messiah and eternal king transformed into the suffering servant on the cross, despised and rejected, from whom people turn their faces in dismay and disgust.
Many of you have likely joined in a dramatic reading of the Passion narrative on Palm Sunday, in which the congregation is cast in the role of the bloodthirsty mob, shouting “Crucify him!” The purpose of this is partly practical – this is a crowd after all! But it’s also meant to remind us that we bear responsibility for the crucifixion of Christ when we turn our backs to our baptismal covenant, and inflict hurt on ourselves and others. This role is meant to make us feel a little uncomfortable – a little distant.
But I think the congregation is miscast in the role of the crowd. We don’t reject Jesus as part of a mob response. Our rejection is personal, and a lot more subtle. I think a better role for us is that of Pontius Pilate. Some moments spent reflecting on his role in the execution of Jesus will jar us into realizing that we can identify with this character a lot more than we can identify with a faceless, thoughtless member of the mob there for a show. Pilate should be very much on our minds this week as we journey up Golgotha.
As a teenager, I bought the soundtrack of the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. To my unchurched ears, the figure of Pilate seemed almost sympathetic – a man of good intentions, bullied by the crowd and the Sanhedrin, a tool of God’s plan of salvation, manipulated, used, and cast aside as soon as he facilitated the necessary execution. At least I’m sure that’s how Pilate would like to be remembered, had he known how events would unfold. The genius of Tim Rice’s lyrics is that the characters speak from their own perspective on the events.
And so Pilate is a figure steeped in denial. And there really is no power like the power of denial, of self-delusion. He is in the position of having his cake and eating it, too. He denies all responsibility for Jesus’ execution even as he orders it. This is one dimension of what Hannah Arendt called the banality of evil – about which I will have more to say on Good Friday. This is fooling ourselves into thinking our actions are good, or at least, morally neutral, when indeed they may be soul-destroying and life-destroying.
As we embark on the journey of Holy Week, which will culminate this Friday at the foot of the cross, let us inwardly examine ourselves. Look into the mirror of your soul, and gaze deeply. Meditate on the events we heard this morning. Consider the claims that were made, the choices taken, the events determined.
There are stories we tell ourselves. There are stories we tell about ourselves. And there are the stories others tell about us. And then there is the real story, the unvarnished truth, the factual record, the evidence read into the transcript. This week we will hear and live that real story as it relates to our Lord Jesus Christ. Confronted with this, let us discover the real story within ourselves, about ourselves, and about our place in those events. Amen.
© Richard Neil Fernyhough, 2008
