Palm Sunday: Leave it all on the field

Luke 19: 28-48

 

We’ve just heard the story of what we have come to call Palm Sunday. Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem, cloaks and coats are spread to ease his journey as the crowds cheer. It’s an exciting, joyful day. We echo this tone of celebration as we wave palms, sing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor,” and shout “Hosanna!” We hear that nothing could hold back this praise—the stones and rocks themselves would cry out if the people could be silenced. All the earth joins together in praise of Jesus.

 

Yet, even on this day, we have to know what’s coming. This is the beginning of Holy Week, and before the Easter Resurrection, there is much that happens. Jesus’ Last Supper, Betrayal, Crucifixion, Death. It would be great if our reading for the day simply ended with the excitement and praise of the crowds as Jesus entered, but the day doesn’t end there. Jesus knows what’s about to happen, and he laments for Jerusalem.

 

“If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”

 

There’s a saying—it’s maybe a little cliché, but it captures what’s happening today. Leave it all on the field. Some might say leave it on the court or stage or some other applicable scenario, but let’s stick with the football metaphor. Leave it all on the field.

 

Jesus knows what’s going to happen, but he doesn’t back down, retreat, or play it safe. He goes all in and leaves it all on the field. Our gospel text describes him teaching and challenging and continuing his ministry after entering Jerusalem.

 

We’ve been talking about discipleship (following Jesus) for six weeks now—all of Lent. Now, we won’t be walking up a hill to be crucified—that’s Jesus. Saved the world from sin, joined in eternal life. That’s Jesus. We’re not him.

 

We are called to follow him, his example. To leave it all on the field. To really put ourselves out there to serve God’s world. Realistically speaking, what would it look like for us to lift someone from poverty, to make sure someone entering here knows that he or she is really welcome—already part of the “us.” What would we do to pass on the faith that we’ve inherited to the children  and youth in our church—so that the ones who are waving palms this morning have a faith to claim when they are 25/30 years old?

 

Are we changed by Jesus’ presence in our lives, or was that all just talk?

 

When we hold back and make this place a place of convenience and comfort for ourselves, we are just talk. When we’d like to have programs here but do nothing to help implement them, we are just talk.

 

When we step on to the field, we live it. When we reach out to welcome friends and strangers, we are something more than talk. When we bring ourselves and our children to worship, we are more than just talk. When we go for the endzone rather than the comfort zone, we are living like Jesus has changed our lives and that matters.

 

In our gospel readings, Jesus weeps over what’s to come, but he doesn’t run to the sidelines of a comfort zone, either. He stays on the field—leading, teaching, serving. This week, we follow his journey to the cross. There won’t be a dismissal today after the Sending Song, because our worship isn’t over—it continues through the rest of Holy Week.

 

We will meet again here on Thursday to remember the story of the Last Supper, and again we will not hear the dismissal, because our worship isn’t over. It continues out of this building and back into the world of our daily lives this week.

 

As we live through this week, remembering Jesus’ final days on earth, we are called to think about how his life impacts ours. How Jesus’ presence in this world makes a difference for our lives. How we live as those who follow him.

 

Leaving it all on the field isn’t a punishment or obligation—it’s an opportunity. To know that however it turns out, every step was taken with a purpose and a hope. Hope that we can affect the world around us for the better and purpose to try to make that hope a reality. To work with our teammates, with that support, as we move forward.  

 

We wave Palm branches and celebrate. We shout Hosanna and sing All Glory, Laud and Honor. We go all out and rejoice in the moments that we have to rejoice, we grieve in the times that we have to grieve, and we don’t hold back. We ask that here on earth God’s will be done—that we may live for others and serve the world God made.

 

We leave it all out on the field. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, we continue in this Holy Week, following Jesus on this journey we call life.

Transfiguration: The "A-ha!" Moment

Scripture passages for this sermon are from the Revised Common Lectionary's Transfiguration Sunday, found here.

Can you recognize any sign that’s up here? In general, you probably know what these or other traffic signs mean when you see them. Most of them warn us or signal us as to what’s ahead.

 

The Gospel lesson for today has those elements as well. Everything about this passage says wake up. Pay attention. This is something you need to know about. Just like these traffic signs that tell us what’s going on, this passage is full of elements that should serve like a flashing neon light, telling us how big this is. If you have your Celebrate insert, go ahead and pull it out to read.

 

First of all, it’s eight days later. Eight days, the time of dedication after birth in the Israelite community. That’s transitional, when a baby is brought into the covenant with God and the community.

 

Second of all, they go up a mountain. There’s a reason we have a saying about Mountain Top experiences. That’s where stuff happens. Big stuff. Life changing stuff.

 

Also, the “They” is Peter, James, and John. These are the inner circle, the few, the ones who were allowed in to heal the daughter of the synagogue leader when the rest were excluded because they were the strongest.

 

And that’s just one verse! If we aren’t keyed in to the significance of this story yet, we then hear what happens. Jesus is praying and is transformed—transfigured—his face changes completely, and his clothes become dazzling white. I don’t know what they looked like before that, but imagine that a hike up a mountain can get a little dirty.

 

Jesus completely transfigures, and the three—Peter, James, John—are there to witness it. Almost as if in response, Moses and Elijah show up as well. These are probably the two most impressive and famous figures of the Old Testament, Moses leading Israel out of Egypt, and Elijah standing up for God and being swept up to heavenin a chariot, and here they are, talking to the transfigured Jesus about what is to come.

 

Then, Peter speaks up. Let’s build three dwelling places for the three figures here—Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Three shrines, essentially. Peter doesn’t get it. These three aren’t here to be revered and worshipped, there here to talk about the next step for Jesus. Peter chatters away about how good it is that he and James and John are there to build these things for them, that they could do that. You almost want to just say, “Quiet, Peter! What are you doing?”

 

That’s what happens. He’s interrupted. A cloud comes over the Mountain and God’s voice says, “This is my son, my chosen. Listen to him.” In other words, “Quiet, Peter!” Suddenly, everyone is gone except Jesus and the disciples. The glimpse into heaven is over, and they’re back on the mountain.

 

They finally get it. Peter stops talking. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for three chapters. Maybe he didn’t say anything worth recording, or maybe he heard what the voice said and started listening instead of talking.

 

Peter got it, but it makes you wonder. It was not the trip up the mountain, or the eight days, or the fact that it was those three, or even the transfiguration itself and the appearance of Moses and Elijah. It took a voice straight out of heaven before he understood.

 

What does it take for us? We have been given this community of believers around us. We have the legacy of Christianity—the Bible, the witness of centuries, millennia, of faithful ancestors. We see everyday miracles in nature, creation of God that surrounds us. We experience the love of family and friends. Some of us even have a mountaintop experience or an “A-ha!” moment. Eventually, we probably get it.

 

Well, the disciples do get it. They have their mountaintop experience, and they finally understand. But here it is—it’s not what it takes for us to get it. It’s what we do when we do get it. Jesus and the disciples understand, but they don’t stay on the mountain with their understanding.

 

They come down from the mountain, and there’s the world again. Just a day after this experience, a distraught parent comes up complaining that the disciples can’t do what Jesus does. Someone is afflicted again, and Jesus is sought out to fix it. Mountain top experience, real world.

 

There are still people to heal, still those who don’t get it, still work to do. In the big picture, a story like this seems petty and mundane, but isn’t it how it really works? It does no good to stay in isolation with the “aha” moment. If it doesn’t change anything, there’s really no point, is there?

 

When we follow Jesus and the disciples to their aha moment on the mountain, we might get it, too. But then, we can’t stay on the mountain or in the building, either. We have to follow Jesus back down the mountain, back into the world. Complacency isn’t an option. There is still work to do, still people to heal, to feed, to care for. There’s still a world to make a difference in.

 

So go make a difference in it.