This Lenten season has been one few of us will ever forget. We never imagine on Ash Wednesday that we would be giving up gathering as a faith community within the walls of our church to celebrate the Eucharist. Nor did we imagine that on this day, we would not wave palms, much less take any home. In the midst of this quarantine imposed on us by the covid-19 virus, we are venturing into a rather unusual Holy week.
Had we been able to gather together, we would have heard before Mass started the gospel passage proclaiming Jesus’ regal entrance into the city of Jerusalem, riding on a colt amid shouts of joy from the onlookers. How euphoric that was for everyone involved.
Jesus was welcomed as a hero who would lead his fellow Jews into battle and defeat their enemies. For the people of biblical Jerusalem, that meant the Romans. They anticipated that their Messiah would establish a kingdom of peace and justice. Because the Messiah was to be a descendant of King David, the great warrior king of the Old Testament, Jesus was called “Son of David.”
As Jesus entered the city, the crowds cried out, “Hosanna!” This exclamation means “Lord, save us!” Because the Jews believed the Messiah deserved the red carpet treatment, Jesus was greeted with palms and cloaks thrown on the ground as he rode through the city. By their words and actions, the people of Jerusalem proclaimed Jesus as their long awaited Messiah.
Jesus accepted the honor but as he had often revealed in his teachings, the Messiah would not be a military hero but a humble servant of God who would conquer sin and death by dying on the cross.
Thus, the cheers of the crowds soon turned to jeers. When Jesus failed to be the messiah whom they anticipated, the citizens of Jerusalem demanded, “Let him be crucified!” What a radical change, going from a hero’s welcome to a humiliating barbaric painful execution.
To an outsider, such betrayal may have made sense. Jesus was in the opinion of some a self-proclaimed eccentric who got the fate he deserved. To his followers, however, what happened epitomized all that he had taught them during their time together. To love God means to surrender oneself to the will of God. What better way could the teacher drive home this crucial message than by his own example?
Jesus emptied himself to demonstrate the total surrender of his personal interests to God. That didn’t come easy for even on the cross he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Still, Jesus knew he had no choice. To place his interests first would mean being unfaithful to his mission, the one voiced by those who pleaded, “Hosanna! Save us!”
The last thing Jesus could ever do was betray his Father.
Matthew’s narrative of the passion opened with Judas opting to betray Jesus. He asked the chief priests, “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?” But Judas was not alone. Many others betrayed Jesus; the crowds, the chief priests, even his disciples. They weren’t the first nor would they be the last. Adam and Eve were the first to betray God and by our own sinfulness, we have done the same.
Betrayal means surrendering to the enemy. In this case, think of God’s number enemy, namely Satan. Betrayal describes the motives behind Judas, Peter, Pilate, the chief priests and nearly everyone else in the Passion story. They were no longer faithful to God, opting instead for what they wanted, choosing to be selfish rather than loving, putting their self-interests ahead of what God was asking of them.
How often have we made choices based on what we wanted without considering the costs beforehand if our choices put us at odds with what God is asking of us?
Last week, I received this prayer from a friend in Salt Lake City that I want to pass on to you for this Holy Week when we are being asked to stay home so we can keep healthy.
May we who are merely inconvenienced, remember those whose lives are at stake. May we who have no risk factors, remember those who are most vulnerable.
May we who have the luxury of working from home, remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent. May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools are closed, remember those who have no such option.
May we who have to cancel trips, remember those who have no safe place to go. May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market, remember those who have no margin at all.
May we who settle in for a quarantine at home, remember those who have no home. As fear grips our country, let us choose love.
During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other, let us find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors.
Amen.