Genesis 22:1-14; Hebrews 10:16-25
Psalm 22; John 18:1-19:42
Here we are, again. As we read this gospel year in and year out – as we move through these liturgical seasons, these always the same but always different services in holy week, I find myself wondering what are we supposed to be feeling?
On Palm Sunday we do much of what we do on Good Friday. We read the passion gospel (today John, last Sunday Mark). But we do the liturgy of the palms first. We hear that story of triumphal entry, we wave our palm branches, and we walk inside singing one of the most royal sounding processionals we have – all glory, laud and honor to thee redeemer king! We settle into our pews – or chairs – and do what we do – the readings, the psalms. And finally – the gospel as drama – (as we just did) with all of us taking part in the proclamation of Jesus being betrayed – condemned – denied.
And, following that, naturally, the mood of the service shifts. We are talking about death, and a brutal one at that. And on Palm Sunday we end our service not with our usual joy-filled processional that leads us out into the world, but quietly we sing – O sacred head sore wounded (at 9am) – or Were you there when they crucified my Lord. And, with that one especially, a fair number of people cry. And many people come up to me later to share that it was a meaningful service. A very moving service.
So I wonder – what is it that we are being moved by or towards? On days like today, days like Palm Sunday? We are a resurrected people, are we not – what is the point of feeling sorrowful on this day we call good?
Let’s back up and take a look at our earlier story of sacrifice – the one God was moved to stop. Abraham doesn’t seem to be feeling anything in this infamous story about his son from Genesis. Another pretty horrific story – God’s testing Abraham in this way. But we don’t hear him protest or weep or even question what’s being asked of him. He sounds almost robotic in his replies.
Here I am. Stay here. The Lord will provide. Does he even feel anything?
Well, let’s cut him some slack. I’m guessing Abraham is exhausted. If we take Genesis at its word – then at this point – Abraham is 100 years old! Whatever the exact age, he’s at the end of his life. And by the time this “test” comes – life, as it tends to do – has already tested Abraham many times over.
Abraham left his homeland. Made a covenant with God and set out into unknown territory. He argued with God. For the sake of saving the city of Sodom he set himself between them and the Almighty. I won’t take us through all that Abraham endured – but Isaac wasn’t Abraham’s first son. First there was Ishmael. His mother, Hagar, a slave in Abraham’s household bore him a son. And Sarah his wife, who then bore Isaac, wanted Ishmael out of the picture. Sarah tells Abraham to sacrifice Hagar and Ishmael by sending them into the desert where it is assumed by all, they would die.
That event takes place just prior to this one – and there we read – Abraham was greatly distressed. No, this story with Isaac is not the first time Abraham has been tested, not by any means. He has already been through this and it was agonizing. But the example Abraham gives us time and time again in the story of his life – is faith, trust. Abraham never stops walking. He never stops believing in that promise God made at the beginning. And indeed an angel appears to Hagar and God does provide. Although it isn’t made clear in the text if Abraham knows what becomes of Ishmael.
So maybe at this point, with Isaac Abraham is spent. It’s not that he doesn’t feel – it’s that he’s moved beyond the emotional level. It is not that he isn’t terrified of what is being asked of him. He does ask the men with him to stay back and wait with the donkey. Doesn’t that indicate he can’t bear the thought of what those men are about to see?
And it doesn’t matter what they would see, anyway. God sees. God knows what surrounds Abraham’s heart. Take your son, God says, your only son, whom you love. Love. Love is the sacrifice God requires. Burnt offerings mean nothing to you – says the psalmist, long before this story of Abraham was written. A broken and contrite heart O Lord, you will not despise (51:17).
It is Love that God is asking Abraham to give. And it seems to me – when people get to that self-giving love – people like Abraham, like Jesus, like Nelson Mandela, like Mother Teresa, like Martin Luther King, like all those who have gone before us, known and unknown, who gave themselves for the sake of others – when people get to that level of love – they have their eyes so firmly set on the prize that power radiates from them. For they are abiding in the power of love, the power of God.
And Abraham’s simple response exhibits the fearless strength of the only thing any of us actually have to give God – Here I am.
When God calls Moses from the burning bush – he replies simply – Here I am.
When God asks Isaiah, who shall I send to the people – Isaiah replies, Here I am, Lord
When the angel appears before Mary to ask if she will bear the child of God – she replies – Here I am Lord.
(Perhaps if Peter had started – with Here I am – instead of jumping to false bravado – that would have given him the strength he needed to stand with Jesus. But – at least he gets there, eventually.)
We do Palm Sundays and Good Fridays in this way so that we put ourselves in the story. To ask ourselves – where am I right now turning away from God, from the suffering I do not want to see in my life, in my world? Where do I need to say, Here I am, Lord. Where do I need to embrace my humanity – the humanity Jesus shared – to connect all humanity? Because to say – Here I am – is to bear witness and to partner, like all those prophets, in the power of God.
For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
We are not here to bemoan the sacrifice of Jesus – because Jesus is still alive! If the sacrifice is just a one-time act – there is no meaning to it – it is finite – it has no power. The Love holds the power. The Love that propels Jesus to nonviolent resistance. The Love that allows Abraham to withhold nothing from the God he trusts could never wound him.
It is the crazy, foolish and irrational wisdom of Love that is lasting and infinite and eternal. Therein lies the power to move mountains, and peoples, and change societies and histories.
God knows Abraham bears that Love. God knows Jesus is that Love. God sees all of us – struggle with the many tests life brings. Sometimes, with God’s help we are able to faithfully say, Here I am, Lord. And sometimes we find we don’t have the power.
So – to get back to my own question – I wrestle with liturgy that has us feeling to maudlin on Palm Sunday or Good Friday. It is not the intention of the church to create a funeral for Jesus. It is the intention of the church to re-create the power of this story in our lives right now. We are a resurrected people – who in Christ’s example see the power we all have of saying – Here I am.
Where are you? And does the emotion we feel on this day – move you, me, us – to try and faithfully utter these words in our lives right now? For the one who is calling you is faithful. The one who is calling you is alive. The one who is calling you is Love.
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks
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