Introduction
This sermon is different from others. The message is a combination of text and music. Our choir sang two sections of the Faure Requiem as part of the “sermon.” You can hear the sermon and the music either by ordering a recording or, if you have high speed internet access, by downloading the audio from our website: Jeffersonunitarian.org.
Reading
Today’s reading recounts the story of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem a few days before his crucifixion. Our text is from the gospel of Mark, Chapter 11.
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple.
Chalice Lighting by Jean Decker
Hope. Hope is a thing with wings which hovers just out of sight and sings. When I joined JUC I was married. Four months later, in August of 1989, my husband handed me a letter of intent to divorce. No reason given, no fights, not even disagreements. We had been married 10 months. What to do? I was suddenly homeless. I had no job, no place to live, my townhouse had been rented out, and little money. I called a friend and stayed at her place that night. The next evening she and I and several others descended on his condo and moved my stuff to temporary storage places. A few days later my son and a couple of friends took my furniture to a tiny one-room apartment. In less than a week I had gone from a comfortable condo with a man I loved to a tiny one-room apartment and no job. Putting $10 in the offering basket was a big deal. At that time I was much more private than now and few of you even heard of these events. But you provided Hope, laughter and Sunday morning coffee, companionship, opportunity and more Hope. All without asking more than I was willing to share. You gave me a freedom I had not known, an opportunity to teach and to participate as much as I wanted to without pressure. Some time later a former JUC member, at that time human resources manager for a state agency, heard that I was doing temporary work. She offered me a temporary job. Hope was there, fluttering about the windows. That job led to several years of state employment and enabled my eventual retirement. Hope has made her home here. She speaks with us at coffee and attends our discussions. She hangs art shows and teaches our children. She empowers our community service and builds homes for Habitat. And she flutters around the edges of our lives. Putting $10 in the basket is no longer a big deal and I recently realized that I have become one of the larger givers, in terms of percentage of income pledged, to our stewardship campaign. All because of Hope and because this congregation empowers Hope in our lives. I light the chalice for the Hope that lives with us every day. She does make her home here. See her dance in our chalice flame.
Sermon
I heard a comment about Easter some years ago that grabbed my attention. The comment was that the trouble with some people is that they want Easter without Good Friday. Easter without Good Friday. I suppose a lot of us want Easter without Good Friday. We want to celebrate new life, springtime, children hunting for hidden chocolate eggs, and bunnies. More deeply, we might think of Easter and its themes of hope and celebrating life. And yet there is that nagging comment about wanting Easter without Good Friday. After all, Easter makes no sense without Good Friday. And Good Friday makes no sense without the story of Jesus coming to Jerusalem. Today I want to reflect on the whole story and, more importantly, what that story can mean for us today. I know that the vast majority of us in here today do not believe in the literal, historical truth of the Easter story. It has been many, many years since I believed that Jesus physically came back to life, visited with his disciples, then ascended into heaven. And yet, like all powerful religious stories, the story of Jesus death and his resurrection is a story that contains deep spiritual truths. I am as skeptical about the literal, historical truth of the Easter story as anyone in here. Yet in our skepticism we must never lose sight of the deep spiritual truths that are contained within the story. After all, each one of us has lived through a version of this story. I invite you to think about your own life, your own story, as we look at the story of Jesus’ final week. Here was Jesus, a traveling prophet and visionary teaching radical ideas like loving our enemies, loving our neighbors as we love ourselves, and forgiveness for everyone. He did outrageous things like hang out with prostitutes and tax collectors. His fame was spreading. He was obviously charismatic. He had a powerful impact on people. Imagine the scene a week before Easter. He and his band of disciples come to Jerusalem at the time of Passover. Perhaps a hundred thousand people would cram themselves into Jerusalem for Passover. As we heard in this morning’s reading, Jesus enters the city like a conquering hero. People spread their cloaks and branches in the path of his “borrowed” colt. Here he is, a radical from this nowhere town up in Galilee, entering Jerusalem during the high holy days. People shout “Hosanna! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!”
And then it all falls apart. The authorities are afraid of this leader who is rousing up the people. They resent that Jesus criticizes the established powers. One of his own disciples betrays him. He is arrested by the Romans. He goes before Pilate. A few days before the mob shouted Hosanna. Now the mob would rather have Pilate release a murderer and crucify Jesus. They sentence Jesus to death and execute him on a cross—a particularly painful death reserved for the most vile criminals and revolutionaries. Peter, his staunch disciple, denies ever having met Jesus. Jesus dies on the cross abandoned by everyone, including his God. He cries out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
You and I have never been crucified. But every person in here today has lived some version of Jesus’ story. Each one of us has experienced triumph that turns into disaster. Has anyone ever betrayed you? Perhaps it was a parent, a spouse, a partner, a friend, or a child that betrayed your trust. Have you ever felt you had no where to turn? Have you ever felt utter despair, utterly forsaken? From the triumph of Palm Sunday to the despair of Good Friday. At some level, we have all lived it.
Music
I invite you to be with your thoughts of your own story as we hear our choir sing the Introit and Kyrie from Faure’s Requiem. Listen to the deep sadness expressed in this music. The section we will hear is a prayer for the dead.
Part 2
Yet after Good Friday, Easter follows. In the biblical story, the followers of Jesus do not confidently anticipate his resurrection. On the contrary, Jesus’ followers are shattered. Some of them leave Jerusalem and head home. Some hang around. We need to remember that the gospels stories in the Christian scriptures are not eyewitness accounts. These scriptures were written decades after the death of Jesus. Once again, I think we miss the point if we look for the story to be factual history. Easter is a fable about hope that will not die, hope that returns even after life’s most bitter disappointments. However bitter our despair, however dark our feelings of being forsaken, hope returns. In the Christian scriptures, Jesus begins to appear to his followers. In one especially fascinating passage in the gospel of Luke, two disciples are walking in the countryside near Jerusalem. They were talking to each other about everything that had happened. In the story Jesus joins them on their walk, but they don’t recognize him. Even after conversing with him for a while, the two followers do not recognize Jesus. In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus meets with his disciples back in Galilee. Here, too, even some of his disciples doubt.
After despair comes hope. Yet it takes some time for hope to take hold. Our despair blinds us. And from where does this new hope come? First, hope comes from memory. After the shock of his execution receded, Jesus’ followers experienced a deep sense that he was somehow still with them. Their memories brought Jesus back to life. They felt his presence in a mysterious way. They felt the love again. They remembered his teachings. They remembered his vision of a kingdom where there was compassion for everyone, where there was peace, where every single person mattered. That love did not die. That vision did not die. The Romans and the priests could not kill the vision, for memory brought them back to life. Hope also comes from each other. In our dark hours of despair, when you and I live through our own Good Friday story, the love and concern of others sees us through. The disciples clung to one another. Had they all scattered, despair might have triumphed. Together they shared their sacred memories. Together they fashioned a story that did not end with death. Together they created a story of a death that led to hope for all people. The journey from despair to hope is a shared journey. Hope is something we create together and share with one another. Ultimately, I believe hope comes from life itself. There is something that lives deep within us that longs to live, that longs to love, that longs to pass on the gift of life to our children. Hope lives inside us, even when we are lost in despair. Think of all the times in your own life when despair gave way to new hope. Think of all the little Easters that you have experienced.
I believe that the hope the follows despair is a better kind of hope than the hope that existed before. The hope that follows despair is stronger. Hope that is naive, hope that has never been known despair, is immature and fragile. Hope that survives Good Friday is resilient, enduring and strong. Hope that has lived through Good Friday is a hope that brings new life. Let yourself feel that hope. It is alive within you.
I invite you to experience the hope that lives within you as we hear our choir sing the Sanctus from Faure’s Requiem. Listen to this musical expression of hope that abides.
Music
Easter follows Good Friday. Hope — strong, enduring, hope — always follows despair. May hope live in our hearts. May our spirits welcome new life. Let us share our hope with others. May this be an Easter filled with blessings. The Easter story is a story of a hope that despair cannot conquer. Feel that hope today. Share that hope with one another and with the world.