And Jesus said, “I am.”

March 29, 2015
Palm Sunday

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Rev. Amy Welin:
The distance we cover during our procession with the palms is not a long one, at least not physically. And it really is rather fun, to walk out of the parish hall and into the church, waving our palm branches in the air and then beginning to sing our hosannas. On a Sunday morning, it is so good to be with the parish community and to celebrate the joy of a new day. Our palms smell fresh and cool and green, like spring. At the same time, we remember the wonderful, exuberant greeting the people of Jerusalem gave to Jesus when he arrived at the city gates so long ago. They cheered and shouted “hosanna” or “save us now, Lord.” They threw their cloaks and palm branches across his path so the dust would not get churned up and cover him. It was a royal welcome. They were hoping for a new day in a political sense, and they wanted their Messiah, Jesus, to be their king. When we go home, we remember that we, too, were a part of this royal welcome.

The distance we cover spiritually from the blessing of our palms to the end of the Passion Gospel is huge. We travel from lauding and honoring Jesus to burying his lifeless body. We have begun our holy week. The silence that falls on us as the Passion ends is more profound than the shouts of hosanna that preceded it.

And in that silence – that painful, awkward, terrifying silence – there is at least as much truth as there is in the shouting. The silences in the gospel of Mark and especially in this Passion narrative frame the identity of Jesus of Nazareth. The silences in this gospel challenge us, who would identify ourselves as followers of Jesus, to speak up and to reveal ourselves in the world.

Throughout the whole gospel of Mark, Jesus commands people to remain silent each time they recognize him as the Son of the Blessed One. Beginning with the unclean spirit in the first chapter, continuing with the many people he heals and even with his closest friends, Jesus commands them to tell no one who he is. And while most of them fail to obey his command, Jesus himself never talks about his divine identity. Jesus is silent until the day he is going to die.

It is not until the High Priest asks him directly Are you the Messiah? that Jesus breaks his silence and says, I am. This is the most important sentence in the story. It is easy to miss the significance of the phrase in our translation. Jesus is using the words that God used to identify Godself to Abraham when Abraham asks God’s name. (Tell them I am). When Jesus says I am, he is identifying himself as the Holy One, the man who is God. He has not done this before. Could it be that he has feared all along that the people would try to proclaim him king? Jesus has talked almost entirely about the Kingdom of God, but the way Jesus saves us is it not at all about kingship in human or political terms, is it?

When Jesus breaks his silence and speaks the truth, the powers of hell seem to be unleashed upon him. Do we who follow Jesus dare to speak the truth about ourselves, that we believe we are the children of the God of love, of mercy, of justice? Or are we fearful that the same thing will happen to us?

The silence surrounding the other actors in the Passion narrative is also notable.

Pilate’s silence allows evil to flourish. For a provincial governor, Pontius Pilate exercises his office with few words. He knows the truth about Jesus and the circumstances surrounding his arrest: Jesus is an innocent man, he is a King, and the Temple priests are jealous of his authority. But Pilate does not speak this truth. Is he detached? Or is he is a cowardly leader who dares not break the silence that fosters evil? He caves in to the pressure of the crowd. How often do we keep silent and allow louder voices monopolize public narrative? Do we have the courage to be unpopular, even to be hated, as Jesus was when he challenged unjust laws and merciless traditions?

The selective silence of the crowd sends an innocent man to death. When Pilate asks the crowd what he should do with the King of the Jews, it is shocking that they do not acclaim Jesus the way they did when he entered Jerusalem.There are no hosannas in the palace courtyard. The crowd gathered is silent about his identity. Instead they clamor for his crucifixion. The cry for blood has silenced the truth. How often has our own silence acquiesced to the powers of death? Are we willing to stone the person we perceive as a sinner or a heretic? Or shall we work for reconciliation and forgiveness as Jesus did?

Peter tries to silence the accusing servant by denying his identity. Unfortunately for him, she refuses to keep quiet. He is one of them. How often do we label people who are different from us as “one of them” – and how often are we afraid of being labeled ourselves? Are we willing to follow the example of Jesus, and to work for understanding with our neighbors of different religions or ethic groups?

And then there is the silence of the women gathered near the cross. There is no record in this gospel of whatever was said between these women. In the first century, as in our own time, there were groups whose voice was not important enough to record. We must remember that it was precisely these voiceless people with whom Jesus spent nearly all his time. Do we dare to allow them to speak, even if we do not like to hear what they might have to say to us?

There is the final silence of death, as Jesus is laid in the tomb. An overwhelming silence surrounds Joseph of Arimathea as he performs an honorable act of justice and charity, challenging the powers that have allowed a shameful act of injustice and cruelty. Joseph asked questions and he used his wealth and power to do the right thing. His action carried enormous personal risk. He did it anyway. Do we dare to use our power and influence for honorable ends?

It is only through Christ that the powers of death are vanquished. Our Lord has laid down his life to redeem us. He is still crucified every day, all over the world, and the Lamb of God submits in love and in silence. Jesus is embodied in the poor, the voiceless, the powerless, the rejected and the marginalized. Our responsibility as Christians is to him and to them. If we are not willing to remember that, our hosannas are empty words.

We who follow Jesus celebrate this holy banquet of the Eucharist so we may be strengthened for a holy life. Today we received party favors. Let’s not just tuck them behind the mirror. Let us bring home our palms as a reminder of what we need to do and say for his sake. And not just for this week.