Have You Heard the News Today?
SUNDAY OF THE PASSION: PALM SUNDAY
Matthew 21:1-1 • Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Isaiah 50:4-9a • Psalm 31:9-16 • Philippians 2:5-11 • Matthew 26:14- 27:66
Welcome to Holy Week. Please, take a breath…and do keep breathing. Consider for a moment how you heard the readings today. How do you feel in your body? How is your heart?
The Reverend Dr. Mark Oakley, Dean of Chapel at St. John’s College, University of Cambridge, was the keynote speaker at the retreat I attended this past week. In his remarks and poetic voice, he brought to our attention the difference between how we hear the evening news broadcast of “This just in…” and how we attune our ears and heart to hear the Good News, our gospel message. For the daily news, he observes, we tend to tense our bodies like a clenched fist. When we hear the gospel, however, our ears and hearts need to be open, like our hands in a posture of receiving.
Can you imagine how the events of the Passion might be shared in flashy headlines or limited characters? Given the journalism mantra of “if it bleeds it leads,” the news outlets would be buzzing with activity. Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem (straddling a donkey and a colt!). The crowd raves. The tide turns, and a series of events–betrayals and suicide, denials and a trial, complicity and crucifixion–leave the people wondering what has happened. What was it all for? <grimace, fists clenched> Sounds a little too familiar. The matter-of-fact run-through of events leads to various reactions, depending on if one is directly involved and impacted, a curious onlooker, or completely unphased.
How do we receive the news?
For those of us who gather today not only because it is Palm Sunday but also because we have traveled through Lent, we are directly impacted by this news. We have been following the trajectory of the stories of Jesus’ life, and with each story, we find ourselves entwined in the Word and caught up in relationship with God, with our self, and with one another. We’ve been to the wilderness and faced temptation, visited Jesus in the cover of night, been filled by living water, given vision, and shown the power of resurrection. Today we wave or carry our palms, following our liturgical directions so that we fully engage our bodies, our senses, our voices, our ears, and—God willing—our hearts. We know what is to come and also know there is something immensely faithful about being here in this moment, however difficult it may be.
We hear the Word today—if we can—with open, tender, and vulnerable hearts. There is something about receiving, hearing, and experiencing all that is Holy Week before we get to the Good News of Easter. We nearly have the whole arc of the week today because the reality is that not everyone will observe all the holy days of this week (though you are most certainly invited and encouraged to do so!). Neither our hearts nor our minds process a lot at once very well. It helps to slow down and create space for meaningful experiences. Rather than plow through all the services or avoid them altogether, we slow down and share them.
All news, we realize, is shared. All news is based on a story. We might be tempted to think that the stories don’t affect us, don’t matter, but they do. We can hold the information we’re told in our minds, but to do so limits the potential of transformation in our heart and life. Yes, we can imagine in our mind’s eye, but can we let ourselves feel and be changed for the better? It’s hard, I know. None of us want to be that parent in Nashville waiting to see if our child emerges safely from the gunfire. None of us want to be digging through debris after the tornado. None of us want to be consoling a friend or family member victimized by legislation or hate. None of us want to be in the crowd shouting “Crucify him!” And yet, here we are. Somehow we manage to live our lives and do what needs to be done, achieving some level of compartmentalization so that we can function with hearts broken wide open yet not hardened, capable of living through tragedy.
Is it the honesty, the clarity, the naked reality in the vulnerability and brutality of this critical story of our faith that begs us not to look away but to let our hearts be seen and known? Whether we are the friend betraying or the friend denying, the helpless ones, the angry ones, the desperate ones, the powerful ones, the accusing ones, the too-busy-to-be-bothered ones…whoever we are in this story and at this point in our lives, here we are. What difference does it make to be present and open?
In Jesus’s silence—because he says so little—there is still longing and searching and knowing. Everything has led to this moment. Whoever we are, wherever we are, this moment, this story is ours. How do we receive it, this holy story for our holy week? Can we allow ourselves the open heart to receive what is offered? Is it too much? Is it too painful? Is life already too full to address this moment on top of everything else? If you’re here, if you’re listening or watching, I believe your heart is engaged. Together we are longing and searching, too…seeking to be known.
I can’t tell you which part of the story is going to be most meaningful for you this week. What I do know is that when we tune in and open ourselves to God’s presence, anything is possible.
© 2023 The Rev. Sara Milford
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – Fayetteville, Arkansas