Belated thoughts on Palm/Passion Sunday

Palm/Passion Sunday: I remember the first couple of times I heard that term.  It refers, of course, to the Sunday prior to Easter Day. It is a kind of expedient.  It recognizes that there are a lot of people who will attend church that day and observe The Triumphal Entry.  Then they will stay at home and not come to church again until next Sunday, when they will join in the proclamation of Easter.  They will skip Holy Week, and Good Friday in particular, and therefore move from celebration to celebration, from joy to joy, without experiencing any of the anguish of the Upper room; Gethsemane; The Betrayal; The Arrest; the various trials before the Sanhedrin, before Herod, or before Pilate; The Flogging; the Via Dolorosa; The Crucifixion; or The Entombment.  So many people will refuse to recognize these terrible moments.  They move from Palms to Lilies.  They ease from Sunday to Sunday without a lot of discomfort at all.  I had a dear friend and active church member who said of Holy Week, “I just can’t stand to think of Jesus in a situation like that.”

As I said, I remember the first couple of times I heard of “Palm/Passion Sunday.”  I was horrified.  Now you must realize that this was early in my ministry.  My idealism was still running at a fairly high level.  I have come to understand that there are reasons beyond spiritual laziness why folks might not be in church on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday or for other Holy Week observances.  So, while I don’t see it as the best of all possible worlds, I have made my peace with Palm/Passion Sunday. 

It starts off with The Liturgy of the Palms in all three years of the Revised Common Lectionary Cycles.  It then moves to the Liturgy of The Passion, where in one form or another it rehearses the death of Jesus.  Folks use these two elements in varying ways, but at the core is a lifting up of both Triumphal Entry and the Death of Jesus.  And, it may be that such a day encompasses the gospel in a way that we don’t see on a garden-variety Sunday.  So, ambivalence and all, Happy Palm/Passion Sunday.

Holy Saturday

It is Saturday of Holy Week.  Holy Saturday.  It marks the full day in which the body of Jesus inhabited a borrowed tomb.  It is quiet.  In the course of the biblical narrative it is a time of resignation, grief and sorrow.  Some of those who followed Jesus spent this Sabbath day at rest, but also making plans to return to the tomb as soon as the Law would permit, so that they could properly tend to the corpse of Jesus.  It is not yet the first day of the week.  It is not Sunday yet.  Easter will come, as we know.  But living in the continuity of the description, this is not a day of rejoicing.

The Revised Common Lectionary reflects this in its suggested readings for the day.  The First Lesson is from Job 14 

‘A mortal, born of woman, few of days and full of trouble,

   comes up like a flower and withers,

   flees like a shadow and does not last.

The alternate reading is from Lamentations 3.  It includes:

 I am one who has seen affliction

   under the rod of God’s wrath;

he has driven and brought me

   into darkness without any light;

against me alone he turns his hand,

   again and again, all day long.

The reading from the Psalter is Psalm 31.  It reads in part,

You are indeed my rock and my fortress;

   for your name’s sake lead me and guide me,

take me out of the net that is hidden for me,

   for you are my refuge.

My times are in your hand;

   deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.

Let your face shine upon your servant;

   save me in your steadfast love.

The gospel lessons are Matthew 27 & John 19.  They recount the claiming of Jesus’ body from Pontius Pilate and the entombment of Jesus.

The readings, each in its own way, reflects the solemnity of the day.  There is resignation, hopelessness and despair.  Even the claim of hope in spots sounds like whistling in the dark in the face of these hours.

There is hope to come.  There is joy in the morning.

But not yet.

The Friday called "good"

It is Good Friday.  I always had trouble with that designation when I was young.  Even a degree of theological sophistication leaves one with mixed emotions when meditating on that title.  It is the day Christ died.  It sounds like a plug for a Jim Bishop book.

But we carry over some sense of the gravity of this day year-round.  Fridays are fast days in many denominations.  Or, people will refrain from meat or certain other foods on Friday.  It is a regular spiritual discipline, to be sure.  But it is also a commemoration that it was on Friday that Jesus was on his cross.  It is in some ways as if the day has a black mark on it altogether.

That may be a bit harsh, but it is not altogether unfitting.  If the church considers each Sunday a “little Easter” it may be appropriate to regard every Friday as a “little Good Friday,” a remembrance of the extraordinary event that occurred on this day.

After all, according to the scriptural accounts, the skies darkened, the earth quaked and even tombs opened up and the dead walked the earth.  It is not a day to take lightly.

Maundy Thursday

The phrase is novum mandatum – a “new commandment” that Jesus gives his disciples on the night Judas betrayed him.  This phrase lends its name to the title we give this day: Maundy Thursday (the day of the commandment).

It is a day that is chock-full of significant activity.  Jesus instituted The Eucharist on this night.  He washed the feet of the disciples while in the Upper Room.  He identified Judas as a betrayer, if only to “the disciple whom he loved.”  Jesus undergoes The Agony in Gethsemane this night.  The Sanhedrin guards arrest Jesus after Judas Iscariot betrays him.  The apostles abandon him.  The guards bring him before the Sanhedrin.  Peter thrice denies him.  He may even make the initial appearance in the presence of Pontius Pilate before Thursday is over.

The church will rehearse many of these things in Maundy Thursday worship services.  Each recollection reveals some aspect of the work of Jesus or of the Divine Plan.

It is worth noting that the church remembers this night every time it gathers at the Communion Table.  Outside of the acts that surround the institution of the Sacrament, the church doesn’t say much about the plenteous events of the night.  In fact, of all the other activities that took place in that evening, the church only references one.  Our Communion liturgy says, “On the night in which he was betrayed he took bread…”

I think that is striking.  Out of all that occurred that night, the church highlights the betrayal.  Judas’ identifying Jesus to the officials isn’t related to the activity surrounding the table at all, except that they both took place on the same evening.

Maybe – maybe –the church does this because Jesus is rehearsing his death prior to its imminent occurring.  At table he says, “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Later that evening, the events will set in motion that process by which Christ establishes the Kingdom in its fullness.  Maybe – maybe – it is of extreme necessity that the church links the two acts, Eucharist and betrayal, in its liturgy.   They may be two sides of the same coin.  Maybe -- maybe -- it is necessary to remember about that night that there were things Jesus did (like institute the Eucharist) and there were things humans did (wrapped up in the single act of betrayal; after all, of the things human beings did in the stories of that evening, none of them are very admirable).  

 "On the night in which Jesus agonized?"  No.  "On the night when all whom he held dear abandoned him?"  Uh-uh.  "On the night they arrested him?"  No pizzazz.

"On the night in which he was betrayed?"  I think I got it.

Wednesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary gospel suggestion for Wednesday in Holy Week is John 13:21-32.  Jesus is at table with his disciples in the upper room and he predicts his betrayal.  The disciple whom Jesus loved asks the identity of the scoundrel.  Jesus tells him that he will give a piece of bread to the culprit.  By this act Jesus marks Judas Iscariot as the one who will enable the Sanhedrin guards to arrest him.

As a literary figure Judas is well-known (indeed, his name is synonymous with “traitor” or “betrayer;” no one names their child “Judas).  At the same time the scriptures are a bit ambiguous about him.  Many interpret his epithet “Iscariot” to mean that he is a native of Kerioth, a town in the south of Judea.  This would make him the only non-Galilean in the band of Jesus’ twelve apostles.  There are many other understandings of the significance of this name, though, and they range from the plausible to the ridiculous.  Many refer to Judas’ character after the fact in a kind of over-the-shoulder reporting of history.  These references tend to interpret “Iscariot” as a negative character trait.

The gospels vary in describing Judas’ motive.  Mark makes no comment.  Matthew says Judas’ motivation was pure greed, as he desired the thirty pieces of silver.  Luke and John indicate that Satan possessed Judas and that was why he committed his betrayal. 

There are some other strains of tradition – many of them modern – that are more sympathetic to Judas.  They portray him as being an implement that God or the political machine employs, and that he was a victim.  Still others see him as selflessly carrying out a noble plan without regard to his reputation or legacy.  Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Last Temptation of Christ and Andrew Lloyd Weber & Tim Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar are prominent examples.  A caution: all of these interpretations are obviously extra-biblical.  They are interesting speculations but have no basis in scripture.

The Bible also contains two accounts of the death of Judas.  Matthew says that he felt remorse and attempted to return the money.  He then hanged himself.  The Jewish officials considered the money tainted, and so used it to buy “The Potter’s Field” as a burial place for strangers and paupers.  The plot acquired the title “Field of Blood,” because the Sanhedrin considered the money given to Judas blood money.  In Acts, Judas himself buys the field, falls headlong and dies there.

I have no need to defend Judas Iscariot.  Our approach to him and to his character is fascinating, though.  As Holy Week progresses, perhaps we would do well to recollect that the circumstances in which we try to exercise our faith are frequently more complicated than they first appear.

Tuesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) obviously has readings for each Sunday of the year.  A little more obscure is the Lectionary’s readings for all the days in Holy Week.  The gospel suggestion for today is John 12:20-36.  It includes an interesting little fragment.  Verses 27-28 read, ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say —“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’

It is interesting in that it takes the form of Jesus praying, but it is in fact a speech.  It is one of several instances in which the Fourth Evangelist employs this literary device.  Even with there being a “voice from heaven” in response to Jesus’ words, the initial words are addressed to the bystanders, not to God.

In point of fact John’s gospel does not report the content of any of Jesus’ prayers.  It sounds a little peculiar, but every time the narrative places Jesus in a prayer context, what follows is a speech or teaching discourse.  Even Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer in chapter 17 is really an address that encourages Jesus’ disciples (both in his context and those future disciples who read the text) to maintain their faith.

The takeaway?  I guess it is, “things are not always what they seem.”  Even in scripture.