A Sermon
by
The Rev. Jeffrey Long-Middleton
Bradford Congregational Church of the United Church of Christ
April 5, 2020
“Stop Pointing Fingers”

So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.”  Matthew 27:24ⁱ

In these days of Corona-virus, the shouts of “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” _{(Mark 11:10 NRSV)} echo in our ears as a hopeful affirmation of the power of God. How we long for the justice and peace that the reign of God would bring. No more deception, our greed checked by our sense of Divine justice, our destruction of the earth on which we live gone as a distant memory. When Jesus came into the city of Jerusalem, hope ran high.

The conquering generals of His day would ride into the city on a war horse. The people would lay their garments along the path lest the general walked on dirt. They would shout Hosanna “…an expression of adoration, praise or joy.”

Jesus could have walked into Jerusalem. Instead, He is mounted not on a grand steed of war, but a donkey. Jesus could have incited a riot when the first thing He did in Jerusalem is overturn the table of the money changers. Jesus could have led a rebellion. The city was waiting, hoping. How they shouted that day, “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

I suppose we could spend our time focusing on the adoration, the praise, the expectant joy. But the shouts of “Hosanna” are disingenuous, empty of the joy they are meant to convey. The people will have their hopes dashed. There will be no renewed kingdom of David, no restoration of independence, no violence ordered by Jesus. Jesus, in their eyes, fails to deliver the promise they had hoped for.

So, I do not intend to dwell on cheers that are transformed in a few days from “Hosanna” to “Crucify Him.” For it is not Palm Sunday that brings us to Easter’s joy, but the sordid mess of Friday. But there is more to be done than a change in direction. We are called by God to find those places within the Biblical text that speak to our condition, that can become transforming, and unless there is such an intersection of God’s Word with our world, religion is nothing more than empty prattle. Jesus did not come to entertain us, but to transform us. So we turn now to look for that place of transformation.

Finding that place requires our soul’s to be honest without our hearts being crushed by guilt. The honesty that is required is found in our admitting that on Thursday, when Jesus says to them, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” ²² And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” _{(Matthew 26:21b & 22 NRSV)} that, my friends is the question we, too, must face. It is so very strange that our openness to addressing this question and accepting the consequences makes Easter all the more joyous, yet, but essential for our salvation. I don’t need a savior if I have nothing to be saved from or nothing to be forgiven for. “Surely not I, Lord?”

I do not need to go through a laundry list of our vices. All one need do is cite, what for me, is one of the most troubling passages in scripture. I believe it speaks to us all; for we are constantly told that consumption is patriotic.

‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? ³⁸ And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹ And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ _{(Matthew 25:37b-39 NRSV)} 

I see Jesus every day of my life. He stands before me and I walk away. “Surely not I, Lord?” and Jesus says to me, as he said to Judas, “You have said so.”

Perhaps these words do not speak to you. You hear them and are content with your response. If so, forgive me for bringing my angst into your life, but I hear these words of Matthew 25 and know that I, too, am one who stands in constant need of God’s mercy and help. Like Pilate, I may wish to wash my hands of the guilt I bear, but there is too little water, too little soap. The stain remains.

But how does one move from guilt to joyous hope? Is it possible to sin and be saved? I can never be saved by perfection or righteousness. They lie beyond my reach. I cannot grasp them and hold on. So I listen to the sordid mess of holy Week. The treachery, fear, betrayal, denial — they are there for us to see, for Jesus to endure. When Friday came long ago and the cross was raised to the sky, how all who had followed in the Way of Jesus must have felt crushed, lost, indeed, damned. Their feeling of guilt, their sense of their own duplicitous delight when they entered Jerusalem to shouts of “Hosanna,” it is not far from where I am today. I like them, could become a victim given over to defeat and depression.

So I come into Holy Week with a burning need to be lifted up, to be held in the arms of God, to be forgiven for my own duplicitous actions, my refusal to perpetually follow in the Way of Christ. I come, not standing, but on my knees, and I ready myself for Easter’s dawn because without it, I am lost. For the truth of the matter is this. The Upper Room question is one I must ask everyday, “Surely not I, Lord?” And you? Let us pray….