Pandemic and Paradox
This week I sat in this scripture where Jesus comes into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, amidst a cheering throng of people waving palm branches in celebration and laying their cloaks at his feet.
And I had no idea what to say.
I suppose I was at a loss because these people are in the midst of celebration, and I’m not much in a celebratory mood these days.
I am anxious.
I am afraid.
The weather this past week has been gorgeous, yet we’ve been inside with the windows closed, simply because I’m afraid that with the windows open my allergies will kick in. And I don’t want to wake up every morning with a cough and a sore throat wondering if it’s just pollen or something more sinister.
I’m afraid because I have faith in God and I learned that a dear professor and titan of Reformed theology, Rev. Allan Janssen – a man whose faith was far greater than my own – lost his life to the coronavirus on Friday.
I’m anxious for the friends and family members I have who work in hospitals, in essential jobs, even in gas stations and grocery stores, who have to go to work with the public, with little more than a piece of cloth over their nose and mouth.
And those thoughts are ever at the forefront of my mind, yet the scripture greets us with this triumphal entry – this celebration – this party.
I cannot put myself in the minds of the revelers these days. The idea of being in the middle of a cheering crowd of people seems too far removed from the present reality that I can’t quite comprehend it, and I find it difficult to even try.
Yet the more I sit in this passage, the more I wonder at the thoughts going through the mind of Jesus.
While everyone around him is joyous and jubilant, Jesus knew what awaited him in Jerusalem. In the chapter before this, Matthew 20:18-19, Jesus foretells his own fate in the holy city. Speaking to the disciples, he tells them:
“We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!”
So Jesus clearly knew what lay ahead as he rode into Jerusalem on the back of that donkey. Yet he rode forth anyway. I doubt his mind was as celebratory as those of the people around him. He knew he would rise after his crucifixion, yet he still must have dreaded the ordeal. He knew his death lay inside the city walls, yet he continued on.
This coming Holy Week finds us in a time of tremendous paradox. We can think of the doctors and nurses returning to the hospitals, day after day, shift after shift, working through physical and emotional pain, at the risk of their own lives. Yet they continue on for the sake of the rest of us.
We can see a paradox in our own Christian calendar – coming into a time of gathering and celebration, when gatherings and celebrations are so very far from our minds.
We are in a paradox of Sabbath. Many of us are confined to our homes, with more time to do things and more physical rest than we’re used to. Yet the emotional toll of the present day saps our strength and wears us down.
And we have no choice, but to press on ahead with the path before us.
We know we have painful days ahead of us. We are not likely to be mocked, flogged, and crucified as Jesus was. But we are all too familiar with the pain and death that surrounds us. We know that we will come again to a day of resurrection, when these times of worry and isolation will be but a memory. But we know we have a hard road to walk before we see that day.
So on this Palm Sunday, when we normally think of the triumphal entry, the cheers of the crowd, and the waving of palms, we think instead on the mind of Christ. Who knew the pain he was walking towards. Who knew the day of resurrection that was coming. And who endured tremendous darkness before coming through once again into the light.
For the goodness and mercy of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and for the sake of the world, let us pray.
Living God of all Creation, we pray to you. For the loving gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, we praise you. For the life he lived, for the pain he endured, and for his eternal presence in our world, we give you thanks. Be with us through this time of trial. Bring good health to all who are sick. Restore the spirits of all who treat them. Lay your comforting blessings on all who need a reminder of your presence. We pray these things in the name of your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
This week I sat in this scripture where Jesus comes into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, amidst a cheering throng of people waving palm branches in celebration and laying their cloaks at his feet.
And I had no idea what to say.
I suppose I was at a loss because these people are in the midst of celebration, and I’m not much in a celebratory mood these days.
I am anxious.
I am afraid.
The weather this past week has been gorgeous, yet we’ve been inside with the windows closed, simply because I’m afraid that with the windows open my allergies will kick in. And I don’t want to wake up every morning with a cough and a sore throat wondering if it’s just pollen or something more sinister.
I’m afraid because I have faith in God and I learned that a dear professor and titan of Reformed theology, Rev. Allan Janssen – a man whose faith was far greater than my own – lost his life to the coronavirus on Friday.
I’m anxious for the friends and family members I have who work in hospitals, in essential jobs, even in gas stations and grocery stores, who have to go to work with the public, with little more than a piece of cloth over their nose and mouth.
And those thoughts are ever at the forefront of my mind, yet the scripture greets us with this triumphal entry – this celebration – this party.
I cannot put myself in the minds of the revelers these days. The idea of being in the middle of a cheering crowd of people seems too far removed from the present reality that I can’t quite comprehend it, and I find it difficult to even try.
Yet the more I sit in this passage, the more I wonder at the thoughts going through the mind of Jesus.
While everyone around him is joyous and jubilant, Jesus knew what awaited him in Jerusalem. In the chapter before this, Matthew 20:18-19, Jesus foretells his own fate in the holy city. Speaking to the disciples, he tells them:
“We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!”
So Jesus clearly knew what lay ahead as he rode into Jerusalem on the back of that donkey. Yet he rode forth anyway. I doubt his mind was as celebratory as those of the people around him. He knew he would rise after his crucifixion, yet he still must have dreaded the ordeal. He knew his death lay inside the city walls, yet he continued on.
This coming Holy Week finds us in a time of tremendous paradox. We can think of the doctors and nurses returning to the hospitals, day after day, shift after shift, working through physical and emotional pain, at the risk of their own lives. Yet they continue on for the sake of the rest of us.
We can see a paradox in our own Christian calendar – coming into a time of gathering and celebration, when gatherings and celebrations are so very far from our minds.
We are in a paradox of Sabbath. Many of us are confined to our homes, with more time to do things and more physical rest than we’re used to. Yet the emotional toll of the present day saps our strength and wears us down.
And we have no choice, but to press on ahead with the path before us.
We know we have painful days ahead of us. We are not likely to be mocked, flogged, and crucified as Jesus was. But we are all too familiar with the pain and death that surrounds us. We know that we will come again to a day of resurrection, when these times of worry and isolation will be but a memory. But we know we have a hard road to walk before we see that day.
So on this Palm Sunday, when we normally think of the triumphal entry, the cheers of the crowd, and the waving of palms, we think instead on the mind of Christ. Who knew the pain he was walking towards. Who knew the day of resurrection that was coming. And who endured tremendous darkness before coming through once again into the light.
For the goodness and mercy of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and for the sake of the world, let us pray.
Living God of all Creation, we pray to you. For the loving gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, we praise you. For the life he lived, for the pain he endured, and for his eternal presence in our world, we give you thanks. Be with us through this time of trial. Bring good health to all who are sick. Restore the spirits of all who treat them. Lay your comforting blessings on all who need a reminder of your presence. We pray these things in the name of your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.