April 13, 2025 – The Sunday of the Passion:  Palm Sunday

The Rev. Mary Davis

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be
acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer.
Amen.
Not too many years ago, while we were living in New Jersey, we
experienced a strong earthquake. Earthquakes aren’t all that
uncommon in the Northeast, and at the time, I was in my church
office, a late 19th century stone building. The movement felt subtle at
first, but when I realized what was happening, my instinct was to get
out of the building and search for solid ground. It was over in just a few
seconds, but that sense of being shaken, of not standing on solid
ground, has stayed with me to this day.
Now, I can’t help but make the connection between that experience
and today’s Palm Sunday liturgy. I feel as if the ground is just as
unstable, shifting beneath our feet.
We entered our worship this morning hailing our “triumphant and
victorious” King.
Sang “All glory, laud, and honor!” and “Ride on, Ride on in majesty!”
And yet, you and I all know that very shortly, the Passion’s dark cloud
is coming. The religious leaders and Roman authorities are
conspiring. Judas will betray Jesus. Peter, his closest friend and
disciple, will deny even knowing him. And, as part of the crowd, we
will abruptly change our tune from “Hosanna! Hosanna!” to “Crucify
him! Crucify him!”
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The experience is beyond unsettling, and there’s no question that
Jesus’ death was a seismic shift. An earthquake. In fact, the Gospel
writer Matthew paints the scene around Jesus’ death when he writes,
“The earth shook, and the rocks were split.”
So I have to ask, were you ready for all of this when you came to
church this morning??? I don’t know about you, but my Sunday
mornings often run on auto-pilot. A quick cup of coffee. A glance at
the morning news. A word puzzle or two. Then I drive my usual route to
church. Say “hello” to the greeters. Receive a bulletin from the
Ushers. Only to find my place in the same seat, in the same pew,
week after week, after week. I imagine some of you have a similar
routine, and have been sitting in the same spots for YEARS now.
Right? [Show of hands – how many of you are sitting in the same spot
where you were last week?] So the power of today’s liturgy might not be as evident to you as we’re
repeating the same patterns week in and week out, and yet that’s
what this day is all about: the seismic shift that comes from hailing
Jesus as our King.
So, this morning, I’m going to suggest that we all participate in this
dramatic shift, and intentionally encounter the remainder of our
service with fresh eyes and ears. Not that we’ll be doing anything
particularly different with our liturgies, or because the story of Christ’s
Passion has changed in any way. It hasn’t. But at the same time, there
is nothing status quo about the radical truth that Jesus offers us today
– that strength is found in weakness, that the humble will be exalted,
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that God’s glory shines even and especially in the deepest and
darkest places.
To help us experience that ground shifting beneath our feet, so to
speak, I’m going to ask everyone here – yes, really – to stand up and
move places. That’s right – if you sit in the front pew, move to the back.
If you are in the way back – shift to the front. If you’re on the right,
move to the left. Or move into this area over here. Or by the choir.
Now, if you need to stay in a certain spot because of mobility issues or
because it’s easier to hear or see, just move slightly. And choir, I know
you’re in sections, but perhaps you can move a little bit. Acolytes and
Eucharistic Ministers, you can shift too.
*
What we are experiencing today through Jesus’ triumphant entry into
Jerusalem and in the upcoming Holy Week and Easter celebration is
nothing short of a
transformative,
bone-rattling,
life altering,
seismic shift.
So if you are feeling a little off balance from sitting in a new spot in this
sanctuary, maybe that’s exactly where God needs us to be. Maybe
now we are ready to hear this story! Our sight line has shifted. Our
neighbors have changed. Our eyes and ears are open to seeing and
hearing things in new ways and from a fresh perspective.
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At Golgotha, the ground literally shifts under our feet. Everything
changes. Looks, sounds, and feels different. The meanings of King
and Kingdoms, Justice and judgment, life and liberation get turned
upside down. We grow in wisdom and understanding when we ponder
and experience these sacred events from an alternate perspective.
Frankly, that’s part of why we give things up for Lent. Because it
changes our perspective. It humbles us. Helps us realize that we’re
not in complete control.
This Holy Week, just 7 days long, and a blip on our calendar. It’s “one
inch long,” as some have said, but “many many miles deep.” If you
allow yourselves to enter into this story with fresh eyes, you’ll be
transformed. So listen. Watch. Hear. And be moved. Perhaps it’s
physically unsettling today, but spiritually you’ll stand on solid ground
forever.
Amen.

Year C  –  The Sunday of the Passion:  Palm Sunday  –   April 13, 2025   –  The Rev. Mary Davis