May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
One of my favorite commentators, the Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis, posted this on her blog this week. She said, “There’s a saying about Lent that has surfaced on social media [lately]—“This is the Lentiest Lent I have ever Lented” then she added, and “this may be the Holiest Holy Week we have ever Holied.”
From the Lentiest Lent we have ever Lented to the Holiest Holy Week we have ever Holied.
That about sums up where we are in this time of pandemic and separation, and Palm Sunday, the start of this Holiest of Holy Weeks, is really the story of our lives today.
It begins with one crazy service, the one you find yourself in right now – and normally, I would say that we shouldn’t be doing this. Now, if you’ve been coming here awhile, than you already know what I am talking about here, but if not, here’s the thing: we are about to do something here on Palm Sunday that we really shouldn’t be doing, and didn’t do for most of our history…move from palm to passion in a single service. Despite some who insist that it wasn’t in response to declining attendance at Holy Week services, there seems to be an avalanche of folks who claim otherwise. The idea being that if we don’t have the passion on Palm Sunday (and many still don’t), than a lot of folks will go from “Glory to Glory” – from the triumphal entry into Jerusalem to the victory over death in the empty tomb – and that…that truly would be an Easter robbed of meaning. So, while this really should just be Palm Sunday, with the passion being our Holy Week journey, we do include it, because Easter, without the passion, is an empty experience.
So, the result is that Palm Sunday becomes a wild rollercoaster ride of emotions – from the near carnival atmosphere of the Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, to the horror of the cross heard in the Passion. And while I normally argue we shouldn’t do this, today it seems it is a perfect fit for our time, because we have been flipped around emotionally and physically these past several weeks. And it really has been just a few weeks too, that all of these changes took place – less than a month ago, we were all gathered here for worship, and the big disturbance to our lives then was a change to how we greet one another during The Peace, and the exclusion of intinction as a method of receiving the sacramental wine. So, this insane paring of Palm and Passion, of joy and pain, of parade and cross – it resonates in a way it never has before, and may never again – or so I hope.
Something else is different this year too. Over the past several years, we have been blessed with the presence of the Dzieci Theatre Company whose enactment of the passion would end our service. Gathered in a circle around our labyrinth that graces our narthex, this troupe would invite us – not to first century Jerusalem, but the Warsaw 
Ghetto of our 20th century, where, they would integrate “Hebraic song and chant, and ritual elements of Judaism,”[1]and set it all in a place of a modern day crucifixion of the Jewish people – a passion for our time.
For us, it was intimate, engaging, and powerful. It turned our emotions upside down, and as we would leave at the end, so many were compelled to come forward and place their palms on the scroll, the Torah, the Word now wrapped up and lying as though in state – our tears flowing, our hearts breaking, the silence deafening.
This too has changed.
And yet, one thing has not.
We are here…and so is the Word.
So let us hear that Word again, and as I usually do, I want us to stay for now in the Palm story of Palm Sunday, because in this crazy time, it is important to not overlook the carnival moment – to see the good news there. So let us remember how this whole palm parade got started – which in Matthew, if you were paying attention, didn’t mention palms at all.
Jesus has reached the Mount of Olives in Bethpage, outside of Jerusalem, and he sends two disciples into the village to borrow a donkey and her foal, a colt, which he says they will find tied there. They are to bring both to Jesus, and then it says that he mounted the donkey, and the colt and on both rode into the city, while the people shouted “Hosanna” and laid their cloaks and branches on the path before him – see no palms, so if you waved some branches from a tree in your yard, or a piece of clothing like a scarf, during the procession this morning, as the church suggested, you more closely followed the gospel.
Now, one thing that always struck me is how crazy that whole story sounds. No, not the entry into Jerusalem, or even that Jesus knew the animals would be where they were. No, I am talking about the rodeo show of riding on both of them at the same time! How crazy is that? Then again – this day is the very definition of crazy, so perhaps it fits.
I wonder though what this was like for two participants of this story – what were they thinking? What did it feel like to them then, and later? No, I am not talking about the disciples. I am talking about the Donkey and her colt. Crazy? Maybe, but crazy is also the time in which we are living, and I think they have something to say to us now.
Now, we don’t really know how the donkey and colt felt about it – nobody interviewed them afterward. The only talking donkey I know is the one from the Shrek movies – whom I absolutely love, and of course, that gloomy donkey of our childhood – Eeyore. But I think, given our times now, we might be able to surmise a bit of what was going on in their heads.
I mean, for the mom anyway, she’s standing there, minding her own business – maybe she and her son are feeding on some delicious grass or hay or something, and then two humans – not the ones who are normally part of her world – but strangers – they come over and untie them. I can imagine her saying “Hey… Are you talkin’ to me? Go where and do what now?” Then they lead them away! She is probably worried about the safety of her son, not knowing where they were being taken and why.
Then they are brought to someone who has the audacity to sit on them – that has never happened before. Still, there was something about him that made it feel like rider and donkey were one, a comfort to their partnership. But just when things were feeling like all was right again with the world – they end up riding into a place filled with lots of humans all shouting at them – nicely shouting, but still a bit of a circus – an absolutely insane moment one might imagine – and for a donkey and her colt, frightening. All of it happening in a few human hours, which feel longer to a donkey by the way.
Their world is flipped upside down, crazy, fearful, and then it is over.
Nobody asked them if they wanted to do this. It just happened to them.
They were taken into a world they never knew, or likely even wanted, and then we can assume they were led back home. Yet, I can’t imagine that life for them was ever the same. They could never again assume that the next day, or even hour would be the same as the current one. The donkey could never assume the full and complete safety of her foal. The foal now knew something about life that made his childlike assumptions disappear.
If that sounds familiar to you – you aren’t alone.
These past several weeks we have been dragged into a bizarre ride of our own. We are not in the familiar – but have been pulled into something beyond our control. The onslaught of news, often contradictory, almost always scary, being shouted from every direction. And there will be a time when we are brought back to our regular world…but will it be what it once was? For that matter, will we, or our children?
We all remember where we were when major events happened in our lives – 9/11, the Challenger explosion, those who are older – Pearl Harbor. We were changed – fully – completely.
In as much as this service is a whirlwind of change that leaves a mark on our hearts, our souls – from the carnival of the palm parade to the horror of the cross – this time of COVID-19, of isolation, of death – looming or real, leaves us yearning for what we once had.
Yet if we will allow ourselves to consider those humble beasts of our gospel, we find hope there too, because like them…
Jesus knows where we are – knows we are in a fearful and lonely place.
Jesus calls us into service amidst the chaos – to partner with him in his mission in the world – caring for the vulnerable, aiding those who care for others.
And there, my friends, is the calm amidst our storm– that whenever we seem to be on our own, he comes to us. That wherever there is chaos, he is with us. That when we feel we are helpless, he calls us into service.
So, it is true that this likely will be the “Holiest Holy Week we have ever Holied,” because we are living it – we are a part of it.
We are moving day to day in a whirlwind of change beyond our control, but in Him we find our peace.
We are living each day in the shadow of Good Friday, yet always with the promise of Easter.
We are in the in-between time – between the glory of what was, and the glory of what will be.
And two things are for sure:
Christ is with us.
And we will never be the same again.
Amen.
For the audio from the 10:30am service, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
[1] http://dziecitheatre.org/the-work/a-passion/
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 5, 2020
Palm Sunday
1st Reading – Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
2nd Reading – Philippians 2:5-11
Gospel – Matthew 21:1-11
