March 15, 2008
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The lectionaries for each Sunday can be found in a calendar format at
http://www.episcopalchurch.org/19625_21607_ENG_HTM.htm.
March 15, 2008
Palm Sunday: Sunday of the Passion
The Rev. Timothy E. Kimbrough
The Church of the Holy Family
Chapel Hill, NC
To come to a fork in the road—to a cross in the road—and not know it is dangerous business. It could be like driving through the STOP sign you never saw in a local neighborhood. You may drive on unharmed, but more likely—given the placement of the STOP sign—there are children at play to consider, trucks and cars in the crossroad, pedestrians, street direction, and other local ordinances to observe. The consequence of driving through the STOP sign without stopping will not always be an accident or an encounter with the blue light, but the intersection is now less safe for your disregard and as for you, you have no idea of the peril with which you have just danced.
To come to a fork in the road and not know it is dangerous business. Ezekiel refers to a fork in the road encountered by the King of Babylon (Ezekiel 21:19-23) as he journeys to battle the Israelites. Ezekiel imagines that the king might be confused at the fork in the road and lose his way. But the punishment of Israel will not be delayed. The king has his eye out for the fork in the road and does not miss it. Such is the destiny of one who stays awake at the fork in the road.
The phrase typically suggests a decision that lies before the traveler—as the knight in many folk-tales who approaches a fork in the road and reads the signpost there indicating that if he rides to the left, he will lose his horse, and if he rides to the right, he will lose his head. It’s not immediately clear which option is better for him. The storyline often clarifies this for the reader. But to have missed the fork altogether would have marked the knight as a fool, a simpleton driven only by whatever distraction keeps his eyes from the road—an uncomfortable saddle, dreams of the damsel in distress, hunger, thirst, or perhaps simply boredom.
For the Israelites, their most significant fork in the road prior to the coming of the Messiah was presented when Moses called on them to leave Egypt by the dry land of the Red Sea. They could stay in captivity under Pharaoh where the work was hard and uncompensated but a bed and meal was guaranteed or they could follow Moses, who obeying the voice of God would lead them to freedom and the banks of the Promised Land—even though it’s not quite clear at the time what that freedom will look like or if there will be a bed and meal at the end of each day.
Scripture says (Exodus 13:17) that “when Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, ‘if they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.’” God recognized that there might be reasons for the Israelites not to embrace the invitation to freedom. When I put myself in the mind of those Israelites—even with all the plagues seemingly confirming the will and direction of God—it is not clear to me that I would have seen the Exodus of the promise of freedom that God intended in the moment. Remember, once freed the Israelites soon long for the security of their captivity when it seems they may die in the wilderness for lack for food and water.
The decision to follow Moses was bold, God-fearing, Spirit-inspired, and adopted by those who recognized the shame of their captivity, the opportunity for freedom, and the gift of God. The hope of the first Passover was squandered only by who failed to recognize the Red Sea as a fork in the road—either by willful neglect or the simple-mindedness of a fool.
“Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast.” We come to the cross today as the Israelites came to the banks of the Red Sea. Their captivity was characterized by bondage to Pharaoh, a betrayal of past promises, slave labor, and the abuse of masters who had long since forgotten the humanity of their work-force. Our captivity is marked by bondage to sin, a fond attachment to all things that distract by means of pleasure and self-aggrandizement, and the assertion of our own will over that of our Maker.
After marking the lentils of their doors with the blood of the Passover Lamb, the Israelites had to walk across the dry land that was the Red Sea in order to find the freedom that was being offered them. After the marking of our hearts with the blood of the Lamb of God, we are now asked to see the crucified Christ — this dying immortal God — as the occasion of our salvation, indeed as the very life of the world.
Judas missed the fork in the road. He didn’t simply take the wrong path, he missed the fork in the road altogether as he kisses his Master on the cheek in betrayal. Peter missed it when he pridefully asserts that he will never desert the Son of Man. The disciples miss it collectively as they fall asleep in Gethsemane. The one follower of Jesus, who indignantly reaches for his sword to cut off the ear of the arresting guard, misses it. Caiaphas, the High Priest, has no interest in confronting forks in the road—his inquiry is pro forma and assumes that those in power are never surprised or to be held accountable. Pilate mistakes the fork in the road for bloodsport and seems only interested in the polls, legalisms, and appeasing the masses—so too, the soldiers who strip the Son of God and flog him. This prisoner is more nuisance than anything else. Those who pass by the cross and mock him could be on their way to the market, to the town square, to Temple. The women looking on from a distance would recognize this decisive moment in retrospect. And the sealing of the tomb for fear of the imposter’s prophecy is nothing more than the last gasp of the old order seeking to deny with its every breath that ever was a fork in the road.
Everything turns on this moment. Our whole reason to be as Christians turns on this week. If Christ is not crucified, our sins are not forgiven and if Christ is not raised from the dead then we are the most to pitied among all people. Our whole reason to assemble in worship week in and week out is to praise God with the declaration of this decisive moment in the history of the world. Everything we do must point to Calvary and proclaim to the world—this is your Life, this is your Hope, this is your Salvation. Do you seek an end to war? Find it here at Calvary. Do you seek an end to injustice? Find it here at Calvary. Do you seek the truth? Find it here at Calvary. Everything turns on this moment.
Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see your salvation in his tears? Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see the hope of the world in the sweat of his brow? Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see the Promised Land, the abundant Life, the New Jerusalem in the blood and water that flow from his side? The Incarnate God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of Jesus Christ, his only Son has been sacrificed for us—and now we may see the face of God, speak his Name, and walk again with him in the cool of the evening, without shame, without fear, without reproach and without the Tempter to distract us. Do you see that only the One who made us, could be the only one to free us? This peculiar and yet grounding claim of Christians is derivative of the Cross’s universal application.
New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson discusses in his book, The Creed, the struggles the early Church encounters when proclaiming this peculiar and yet grounding claim of Christians—that Jesus, the Son of God, had died for our sins, that he had died for our salvation. Dr. Johnson writes,
“If salvation were simply a matter of correcting some mistaken ideas that humans held, then Jesus need be no more than a good teacher sent by God in the manner of Moses. If salvation were simply a question of rectifying social structures that were oppressing the people, then Jesus need be no more than a faithful prophet sent by God in the manner of Amos or Isaiah. If salvation, in short, were simply a human matter, then Jesus needed to be only a human being.” (p. 141)
But the salvation of the world was not merely a human matter. It was the Maker of all creation who was vested with the power to create and to save. And so when we say on Good Friday “Behold the wood of the cross on which was hung the world’s salvation” it is as much a profession of faith as it is a proclamation of the Gospel.
To keep your distance from the Cross is to do so at your peril. It is to risk the simple-mindedness of fools, the willful neglect of the powerful, and the apathy of the comfortable rich. Do not walk past Calvary with your eyes closed. When you come to this cross in the road bow down and bend your knees. Kneel before the Lord your Maker. For on this day the Lord has acted we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Palm Sunday: Sunday of the Passion
The Rev. Timothy E. Kimbrough
The Church of the Holy Family
Chapel Hill, NC
To come to a fork in the road—to a cross in the road—and not know it is dangerous business. It could be like driving through the STOP sign you never saw in a local neighborhood. You may drive on unharmed, but more likely—given the placement of the STOP sign—there are children at play to consider, trucks and cars in the crossroad, pedestrians, street direction, and other local ordinances to observe. The consequence of driving through the STOP sign without stopping will not always be an accident or an encounter with the blue light, but the intersection is now less safe for your disregard and as for you, you have no idea of the peril with which you have just danced.
To come to a fork in the road and not know it is dangerous business. Ezekiel refers to a fork in the road encountered by the King of Babylon (Ezekiel 21:19-23) as he journeys to battle the Israelites. Ezekiel imagines that the king might be confused at the fork in the road and lose his way. But the punishment of Israel will not be delayed. The king has his eye out for the fork in the road and does not miss it. Such is the destiny of one who stays awake at the fork in the road.
The phrase typically suggests a decision that lies before the traveler—as the knight in many folk-tales who approaches a fork in the road and reads the signpost there indicating that if he rides to the left, he will lose his horse, and if he rides to the right, he will lose his head. It’s not immediately clear which option is better for him. The storyline often clarifies this for the reader. But to have missed the fork altogether would have marked the knight as a fool, a simpleton driven only by whatever distraction keeps his eyes from the road—an uncomfortable saddle, dreams of the damsel in distress, hunger, thirst, or perhaps simply boredom.
For the Israelites, their most significant fork in the road prior to the coming of the Messiah was presented when Moses called on them to leave Egypt by the dry land of the Red Sea. They could stay in captivity under Pharaoh where the work was hard and uncompensated but a bed and meal was guaranteed or they could follow Moses, who obeying the voice of God would lead them to freedom and the banks of the Promised Land—even though it’s not quite clear at the time what that freedom will look like or if there will be a bed and meal at the end of each day.
Scripture says (Exodus 13:17) that “when Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, ‘if they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.’” God recognized that there might be reasons for the Israelites not to embrace the invitation to freedom. When I put myself in the mind of those Israelites—even with all the plagues seemingly confirming the will and direction of God—it is not clear to me that I would have seen the Exodus of the promise of freedom that God intended in the moment. Remember, once freed the Israelites soon long for the security of their captivity when it seems they may die in the wilderness for lack for food and water.
The decision to follow Moses was bold, God-fearing, Spirit-inspired, and adopted by those who recognized the shame of their captivity, the opportunity for freedom, and the gift of God. The hope of the first Passover was squandered only by who failed to recognize the Red Sea as a fork in the road—either by willful neglect or the simple-mindedness of a fool.
“Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast.” We come to the cross today as the Israelites came to the banks of the Red Sea. Their captivity was characterized by bondage to Pharaoh, a betrayal of past promises, slave labor, and the abuse of masters who had long since forgotten the humanity of their work-force. Our captivity is marked by bondage to sin, a fond attachment to all things that distract by means of pleasure and self-aggrandizement, and the assertion of our own will over that of our Maker.
After marking the lentils of their doors with the blood of the Passover Lamb, the Israelites had to walk across the dry land that was the Red Sea in order to find the freedom that was being offered them. After the marking of our hearts with the blood of the Lamb of God, we are now asked to see the crucified Christ — this dying immortal God — as the occasion of our salvation, indeed as the very life of the world.
Judas missed the fork in the road. He didn’t simply take the wrong path, he missed the fork in the road altogether as he kisses his Master on the cheek in betrayal. Peter missed it when he pridefully asserts that he will never desert the Son of Man. The disciples miss it collectively as they fall asleep in Gethsemane. The one follower of Jesus, who indignantly reaches for his sword to cut off the ear of the arresting guard, misses it. Caiaphas, the High Priest, has no interest in confronting forks in the road—his inquiry is pro forma and assumes that those in power are never surprised or to be held accountable. Pilate mistakes the fork in the road for bloodsport and seems only interested in the polls, legalisms, and appeasing the masses—so too, the soldiers who strip the Son of God and flog him. This prisoner is more nuisance than anything else. Those who pass by the cross and mock him could be on their way to the market, to the town square, to Temple. The women looking on from a distance would recognize this decisive moment in retrospect. And the sealing of the tomb for fear of the imposter’s prophecy is nothing more than the last gasp of the old order seeking to deny with its every breath that ever was a fork in the road.
Everything turns on this moment. Our whole reason to be as Christians turns on this week. If Christ is not crucified, our sins are not forgiven and if Christ is not raised from the dead then we are the most to pitied among all people. Our whole reason to assemble in worship week in and week out is to praise God with the declaration of this decisive moment in the history of the world. Everything we do must point to Calvary and proclaim to the world—this is your Life, this is your Hope, this is your Salvation. Do you seek an end to war? Find it here at Calvary. Do you seek an end to injustice? Find it here at Calvary. Do you seek the truth? Find it here at Calvary. Everything turns on this moment.
Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see your salvation in his tears? Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see the hope of the world in the sweat of his brow? Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Do you see the Promised Land, the abundant Life, the New Jerusalem in the blood and water that flow from his side? The Incarnate God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of Jesus Christ, his only Son has been sacrificed for us—and now we may see the face of God, speak his Name, and walk again with him in the cool of the evening, without shame, without fear, without reproach and without the Tempter to distract us. Do you see that only the One who made us, could be the only one to free us? This peculiar and yet grounding claim of Christians is derivative of the Cross’s universal application.
New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson discusses in his book, The Creed, the struggles the early Church encounters when proclaiming this peculiar and yet grounding claim of Christians—that Jesus, the Son of God, had died for our sins, that he had died for our salvation. Dr. Johnson writes,
“If salvation were simply a matter of correcting some mistaken ideas that humans held, then Jesus need be no more than a good teacher sent by God in the manner of Moses. If salvation were simply a question of rectifying social structures that were oppressing the people, then Jesus need be no more than a faithful prophet sent by God in the manner of Amos or Isaiah. If salvation, in short, were simply a human matter, then Jesus needed to be only a human being.” (p. 141)
But the salvation of the world was not merely a human matter. It was the Maker of all creation who was vested with the power to create and to save. And so when we say on Good Friday “Behold the wood of the cross on which was hung the world’s salvation” it is as much a profession of faith as it is a proclamation of the Gospel.
To keep your distance from the Cross is to do so at your peril. It is to risk the simple-mindedness of fools, the willful neglect of the powerful, and the apathy of the comfortable rich. Do not walk past Calvary with your eyes closed. When you come to this cross in the road bow down and bend your knees. Kneel before the Lord your Maker. For on this day the Lord has acted we will rejoice and be glad in it.
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