Palm Sunday
Welcome friends! If you were unable to attend our Palm Sunday service online we welcome you to read the below which includes links and notes from our service. Thank you for taking the time to connect with us!
Hosanna! It is Palm Sunday. We are celebrating today the reminder that Christ has come to fulfill hispromises to us. As I reflect on Palm Sunday and what that means for us right now in 2020, in the midst of a pandemic, I had a few thoughts. First, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem he came quite humbly, on a donkey. His arrival was missed by many. Even today, the gate that he rode through is still locked in Jerusalem because many Jews still believe that Christ has not yet come. It reminded me of the verse from 2 Corinthians 4:7, “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of power will be of God and not from ourselves.” If Christ had come in full political power as some expected, it would have been easy for people to worship Jesus the man, instead of Christ the Saviour. So many were hoping for Jesus the man. The person who would overthrow the Roman government and bring them freedom. Instead, Jesus came humbly. He came to save us in a way many didn’t even realize we needed saving.
There is a part of me that wants to see Jesus come riding in right now and do some massive miracles. I want him to come and fix the whole world. However, I want to be open this week to how God is showing up to bring healing and joy and peace, even if its not in the way I expect it. I am also reminded by those verses that it’s ok to have some weakness right now. It’s ok to have grief, anxiety, to be exhausted, short tempered, and frustrated sometimes. Because this joy and peace and power we have is not from us, it is from God. We are earthen vessels. The bible says that God’s grace is sufficient for us, that in our weakness He is strong. So perhaps in these moments I need to beat myself up less for my weakness and turn more to the Saviour to ask for strength.
I also have been thinking a LOT the last few weeks about this verse from Isaiah 30:15. “This is what the Soverign Lord, The Holy One of Israel, says: “In returning to me and rest you shall be saved, in quietness and confident trust (in other words, in spending time in quiet alone with God and in relying on his sufficiency) shall be your strength, but you would have none of it.” In our culture, we have had none of it. We have had so little rest, so little quiet. We are self relief, not relient on God. We rely on our accomplishments, our productvitiy, our social standing, our economy, and so much more. I hope that in this time I will learn the lesson of quiet and rest. This is our opportunity to learn a profound lesson and not miss it because we are expecting or hoping for something else. Let’s not miss it.
I would like to share two songs with you this week. One is performed by a local Manitoba man and his daughter and is called Julian of Norwhich. This week I did some reading on Julian and was incredibly fascinated. Julian lived during the Black Plague in England in the 1300’s. She was an anchoress. Which basically meant she lived in self isolation in a very small room attached to a church. Her book, Revelations of Divine Love, is the oldest surviving book written by a woman in the English language and has some incredibly profound quotes on Christ’s love. This song is based on Julian’s writings and I find this father daughter duo’s version so soothing. It reminds me of the “quiet” part of the verse from Isaiah. The chorus talks about “Let the Winter come and go, all shall be well again I know. Love, like the yellow daffodil is coming through the snow. Love, like the yellow daffodil, is Lord of all I know.” With Winter seeming to return this week with another snow storm I found this song so fitting for this week. You can listen to Matt and Rosa’s version here.
The seond song I would like to share this week is an old hym. “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” This song’s lyrics brings out the confident trust part of Isaiah 30:15. This song reminds me of my grandmother. When I hear it I can almost feel myself sitting on a swing outside in Spring with her as she sings. It also reminds me of my mom sitting in the the hallway outside my bedroom at night when I was a little girl singing to me. This version of the song is also done by another Manitoban, Rosemary Siemens. You can listen to her version here.
Our sermon this week was preached by Henry Friesen. The notes from the sermon are below.
“While optimism makes us live as if some time soon things will get better for us, hope frees us from the need to predict the future and allows us to live in the present, with deep trust that God will never leave us alone.” -Henri Nouwen
Read The Book of God - The Bible as a Novel, Walter Wangerin Jr, p. 764-767
I want to reflect on the theme of hope and hints of impending despair in this story. What can we learn about hope from Judas and the people who so enthusiastically welcomed Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey’s foal? How does the despair that Judas encountered a short week later alert us to the pitfalls that sometimes obscure for us the vanity of our hopes? And how can a recognition of these hazards lead us not to despair, but to dig down deeper to a chastened hope that can sustain us through times of excruciating pain and disappointment?
Some think that Judas was a Zealot who expected Jesus to be a military champion who would overthrow the Roman oppressors and lead Israel back to her former glory as the sovereign power of the homeland originally promised to Abraham. Whatever the precise nature of Judas’ expectations, it is clear that this Triumphal Entry was a time pregnant with hope – hope that the fulfillment of a long awaited and dearly held expectation was imminent.
However, a week later the One on whom Judas and the throng had hung their hope, was himself hung on a Roman cross. What happened? How was delirious hope so quickly and cruelly dashed? How was euphoric hope so suddenly turned to abysmal despair? For those who hoped in Jesus for release from Roman oppression the tables have been cruelly turned. The One who was to facilitate their freedom is Himself executed by the very Roman power that He was to vanquish. Now where is hope?
Is there a thread of hope that runs between these events or must hope give way to despair? How do we anchor our hopes so that they are meaningful for the life we live day to day, without anchoring so that our hope is susceptible to a cruel uprooting in the same mundane events? How do we anchor our hope deeply enough to withstand the ravages of a life that sometimes gets very messy, without anchoring at such a remove from ordinary life that the security of the anchor becomes meaningless? How can we hope in the Jesus who rides the unbroken foal of a donkey into Jerusalem in a triumphal procession on Sunday, without losing all hope when that same Jesus hangs on a cross on Friday? And how can hope not be shattered, how dare we respond with anything other than despair, when it is not only our hopes and dreams, but our God himself who hangs on a cross, slain by the enemy?
The answer, I think, is as new as today, and as old as Genesis, and it is not an answer, but an invitation. The answer lies not in a formula or theological creed or religious activity. The answer is not the end of a search, but the beginning of a journey that starts at the cross and must never get past the cross, and can never get past the Jesus who both rode the donkey and hung on the cross.
A clue to the answer is found in the substance of Jesus’ expression of despair in his lament over Jerusalem “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes.... because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.” (Luke 19:42, 44b). The people were still consumed with what they hoped God would do for them, so much so that when God became flesh and moved into the neighborhood, they did not recognize him. He did not merely offer them a homeland and freedom and hope, but he offered them his very self, but they did not recognize him. They didn’t notice that their hopes had been wildly exceeded; they only noticed that their dearly held dreams were not coming true. In their obsession with their dreams they missed their God when he walked among them.
So often we put our hope in what we want God to do for us, rather than in the God who wants to be with us and hold us close. Now, it is not entirely wrong to have hopes for what God can do for us, but that is different from hoping in the God who wants to be with us. This is not to say that God does not want to do things for us, but that the things we hope for may or may not line up with what God wants to do for us, and what God wants to do for us is always a function of how God yearns to be with us.
This is why the answer is as old as Genesis. When God created all the heavens and the earth and everything in it God said
“Let us make humankind in our image....
So God created humankind in God’s own image,
in the image of God they were created;
male and female God created them.”
At the heart of who God is there is relationship. God says “Let us make humankind in our image”, and that relationality - that being in relationship - is at the core of what it means for people to be created in the image of God “in the image of God they were created; male and female God created them.” We are created for relationship – with God and with each other, and it is in relationship that we find our strongest anchor point for hope. It is in the knowledge that God is for us, and it is in responding gratefully with our being for God, that we find a deep hope that exceeds anything we could hope God to do for us. When our hope is in God rather than what we hope God will do for us, then nothing that is not done for us is fatal to our hope in God.
Now how could the throngs that lined the road to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday have recognized Jesus as God, and as their hope, not only as their liberator from bondage to Rome, but their hope for freedom from themselves and their willing servitude to the real enemy Jesus intended to vanquish? By what sort of dynamic or discipline or experience could the people of Jerusalem have been expected to hope for more than what they wanted Jesus to do for them? And how do we learn to respond to Jesus in a way that exceeds what we wish him to do for us?
Just as the people who watched and shouted and worshiped as Jesus rode into Jerusalem on that donkey’s foal, so do we often find ourselves shivering in a religious ecstasy when it seems that our expectations are coming to fruition, only to find our hopes dashed when events seem to just as suddenly turn against us. Sometimes our euphoria rides the wave of a new religious experience, or an overwhelming sense of God’s presence and direction in our lives, or a satisfaction when our efforts begin to reap anticipated results. None of these things are intrinsically bad, and in fact all of them can quite legitimately be a source of satisfaction, adding meaning and enjoyment to our lives and enriching relationships with each other, but all of them - all of them - can also serve as place holders in which our kingdoms dangerously mimic God’s kingdom, surreptitiously obscuring critical distinctions between our efforts to build our own kingdoms, and our participation with God in building his kingdom. Programs and buildings and dogma can be very useful -even indispensable- tools we use as we work with God to build his kingdom, but God’s kingdom is about people first; God’s kingdom is about relationships.
This is not to say that despair and disappointments will all disappear when we place our hope in a relationship with our God, and with all of God’s children. Even if the people of Jerusalem had recognized their Saviour on Palm Sunday, they could still have been crushed on Good Friday, for how can we not be crushed when God hangs on a cross? We cannot truly understand the emotions and despair of Good Friday, because even on our side of the resurrection we know that Sunday’s a’comin’! However, there is something profoundly significant in recognizing our God not merely as a God who can do great things for us, though surely he “is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to God’s own power that is at work within us.” (Eph 3.20). There is something profoundly invigorating in seeing God not simply as a genie who will bend to our every wish, but as the God who is for us and with us always, and “if God is for us, who can be against us?... No,” Paul says, “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom 8:31, 37-39)
This relationship with God -this love of God- is part of the treasure that we carry
“in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
(So that, while w)e are hard pressed on every side, we are not crushed;
perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Cor 4:7-9)
We do not live this relationship in an individual vacuum. We live out this relationship in the community of faith, in recognizing the image of God in each and every act of God’s creation, and particularly in our brothers and sisters with whom we journey we retain remnants and glimpses of God to help carry us through our disappointments. It is in the hope that is nurtured in relationships of mutual caring that we see Jesus and experience that relationship which sustains us when things do not work as we wish, or even as God wishes. It is in our relationship with one another that we encounter images of God in each other, and find hope in our being for each other and in our being for God together. This does not preclude our doing things for each other and for God, but our being for each other is both expressed in, and exceeds, the things we do for each other.
That is why the answer is as new as today. Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. Instead, reach out in response to his invitation to walk with Him. Reach out and join hands with your brothers and sisters as we learn and grow into Him together. Anchor your hope in the Promise that is as old as Genesis, and the invitation that is new every morning, as new as today. “And surely,” Jesus promises “I AM with you always, to the end of everything!” (Mt 28:20)
We leave you with this benediction from Ephesians 3:16 “I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being.” And this song.
We hope you will join us to connect again!