Christ gave us a new command: “Love each other deeply and fully. Remember the ways that I have loved you, and demonstrate your love for others in those same ways.” …In so doing we shall find that we are helping others to be healed as well, for that love is in them too; and even in our many Judases.
Monday (April 18th) was the 120th running of the Boston Marathon. And again we remember that moment during that race, three years ago, when the hate and anger that had been fanned to life within two young men exploded; forever altering or destroying the lives of many innocent and wonderful human beings.
We’ve seen people coming together in many ways to minister to those wounded, whether visibly or not, by this and so many other acts of inhumanity, both before and since that day. And, we’ve all seen those who were victims of such violence coming forward with their own stories, sharing them in many different ways, so that others who have suffered similar losses might find healing.
These outpourings of love, compassion and care reflect how Jesus calls upon us to love one another and minister to each other, especially in times if crisis, as we see in this morning’s scripture. But, here in John 13, the disciples have not yet endured the tragedy that we know so well.
The Crowd, Pilate, Caiaphas, Judas, and Peter: They all try to do the right thing, and we can see ourselves in them; because they are us in this story.
One central lesson of Palm Sunday is that that no matter how powerful we may be, no matter how well intentioned we are, no matter how wise, or how foolish, or how rich, or how poor, we all constantly make choices that widen the chasm that lies between us and God. We can’t help it, we can’t change it: … it’s part of being human. That is what Sin is: Sin with a Capital “S”; the Sin that has been passed down to us as our share in the brokenness of all existence, the Sin that began with Adam.
How does it feel to be one of them, one of the mob, one of those calling for His death? To turn on him in his hour of need?
How does it feel?
Let us pray…
Lord God, we lift up this morning’s message. May it touch our hearts, may it speak clearly to our souls. We believe your word and your love will rescue us from the depths of our doubt, unbelief, and Sin. Speak to us now, Lord. Help us to know you in the way you have wanted us to know you since the beginning. Amen.
Peter really tried to do the right thing. In the Garden of Gethsemane, he really tried to stay awake while Jesus prayed, but failed. We’ve all been there: like many of you, I have a hard time staying awake for my son after a long day of work, let alone during a sermon. Peter was no different!
But then, when Jesus was arrested, Peter ran away, just like everyone else. He tried again, tried to be there for his friend, the man he knew to be God’s anointed: stumbling along in the dark behind that mob, following their torches to the house of Caiaphas. He then sat in the courtyard, wondering what to do, listening to the voices coming through the window above him, hoping to hear his master speak, hoping that – somehow – Jesus would escape the fate they’d all feared for him. But, Peter also feared for his own safety, fearing he would be recognized as he warmed himself beside that fire.
He did his best, but it was too much for him. When the test came, when that servant girl called him out, he did the only thing he could do: he lied.
And then, when he heard the cock crow the second time, he wept. His failure was complete, his weakness contributed to the death of the man he loved. But Jesus had known this all along, and out of an abundance of compassion and love, had warned Peter this would happen.
We all know how this feels. We’ve all been confronted by situations we could not overcome. How many of us are Peters?
This week in Boston, we’ve seen so many people in our community coming together to minister in many ways to those who wounded, whether visibly or not, by this tragedy. This reflects how Jesus called upon his disciples to love one another and minister to each other, especially in times if crisis, as we see in this morning’s scripture. It is a story we know all too well – but the disciples didn’t know it, yet.
This week in Boston, we’ve seen so many people in our community coming together to minister in many ways to those who have been wounded, whether visibly or not, by this tragedy. This reflects how Jesus called upon his disciples to love one another and minister to each other, especially in times if crisis, as we see in this morning’s scripture. It is a story we know all too well – but the disciples didn’t know it, yet.
What the disciples knew was that Jesus had just washed all of their feet, and told them that if they truly love him they must follow his example by ministering to one another, as he had. He then foretold his imminent betrayal by one of their own. Finally, Judas accepted an offering of bread and vanished into the night on some unknown errand. It was the evening of the “Last Supper.” The disciples had taken shelter from the darkness outside in the cherished, annual celebration of their love and connection with each other, and with the people of God.
We remember and celebrate this even today, in the sacrament of communion. The sharing of the bread is seen as the sharing of the Body of Christ that has been broken for us. By eating of it, we are sharing in his life, in his death, and in the resurrection. By eating of it together as a community, we are acknowledging that we are all part of the Body of Christ here on earth, working together to continue His ministry and to make manifest the Kingdom of God that is already all around us, even though we may not yet see it in all of its glory and perfection.
Judas took his piece of that bread as he left the light and warmth of his companions, and his Lord, as he retreated into the night.
Why did John think it so important to preserve the memory of this strange offering to the Betrayer? Judas is someone to be shunned, damned and forgotten for all time – why remember anything about him at all? Was that gift just for Judas? I doubt it. No passage in the scriptures has just one lesson for us – or I’d be out of a job!
Presented at West Boylston First Congregational Church, UCC, April 1, 2012 (Palm Sunday).
(NB: This message was preceded by a dramatic reading of the arrest, trial and crucifixion of Jesus from Mark 14 & 15, which included the Congregation participating as the mob that shouted out [to Pilate] “Crucify Him!.” The reading is available as a Pamphlet from St. Gregory’s Church of Muskegon, MI.)
How does it feel?
How does it feel to be here this morning, to be one of those shouting “Crucify Him” during our dramatic reading from Mark?
How does it feel to be one of them, one of the mob, one of those calling for His death? To turn on him in his hour of need? How does it feel?