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Seven-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong wrote a well known book about his biking exploits entitled It's Not About the Bike. It was of course about him: how he came to be on the bike, fight a tough cancer successfully, stay on the bike and achieve what he did.
In telling his story, Armstrong makes clear the capacity for suffering and discomfort which professional bike riders have. Lungs and legs which burn and ache. The stamina to ride through clouds and cold and rain, to take spills and get up and ride in pain. The willingness to be team member, even a lowly domestique setting the pace for others who may be the ultimate winners after you become exhausted and fall off the pace or pass out of the race. The crowd cheers the colorful spectacle of the passing peleton while the riders endure hour after hour in the saddle and know that for them it's about far more.
Spiritual journeys have levels too. Palm Sunday celebrates Jesus entry into Jerusalem, and the palms and the crowds. Jesus rides into town deliberately, creating considerable fuss. His admirers praise him extravagantly. They make a noise. His detractors notice the symbolism of his entry and the cheering and suggest that Jesus rein his followers in. Jesus refuses: “If they didn't, the very stones would cry out!” It's definitely about more than the ride.
Our scriptures paint Palm Sunday like a weather system. In our first reading, it's a sunny day with Jesus on the donkey (or colt) and crowds; but storm clouds are visible in the background. During our second reading storm clouds gather heavier and there's occasional thunder in the distance. Jesus gathers his disciples and talks about how he must suffer; the authorities plot to kill him. During the third portion of scripture the thunderstorm or firestorm hits as he is arrested and hauled before Pilate. The authorities and the crowd shout to the Roman governor that Jesus is a disturber of the peace and a usurper of Israel. We know what's coming.
Last week the teaching series reflected on when bad things happen to good people—the “why” question of evil and suffering which is so difficult to answer—and the issue of “what” we do about it. Palm Sunday introduces a further twist on this: Jesus--the spiritual teacher, the healer, the blessed one--willingly enters into a situation where he will suffer arrest, humiliation, torture and ultimately will sacrifice his life. This isn't an accident, something that just happens. It's consciously entered into, even chosen. If anything, Jesus seems to raise the stakes: “if my followers were to keep quiet the very stones would cry out!”
The notion of sacrifice, of choosing to suffer for a purpose, is another aspect of life beyond bad things happening to good people. All of us encounter it at some point. The question is what we make of it.
Jesus steps into suffering with a foreknowledge which seems all the more painful. When celebrating Passover with his disciples, instead of the usual words he says things like “this is my body which given for you; this is the cup of the new covenant poured out for you in my blood. Do this remembering me.” He speaks about his coming death. What are we to make of his willingness to move into suffering and sacrifice, and to talk to his disciples about this? Isn't life already tough enough?
Last month I was traveling in India. In New Delhi we saw Mahatma Gandhi's tomb and eternal flame, along with squads of school children. Gandhi is revered as the key figure among the group of revolutionaries who founded modern India. In fostering of Indian independence, Gandhi drew on ideas from Christianity, from Him who rode into Jerusalem…the notion of responding to your enemies and standing for your rights non-violently. Gandhi inspired others to step with him into discomfort and sacrifice, while organizing strikes, sit-downs, demonstrations, and enduring imprisonments. Gandhi put his body on the line completely, making it clear he was willing to die in the cause, inspiring others to do likewise. The leaders of the Congress Party called themselves his disciples. Gandhi was willing to suffer, and ultimately lost his life to an assassin after independence. Yet without him and his disciples like Nehru and their sacrifices, modern India with its multi-party democracy would never have been born.
Gandhi of course inspired The Rev Martin Luther King, who a few years later stepped into discomfort and sacrifice as leader of civil rights in the American South at a time when it got many demonstrators jailed, beaten, and some killed. Facing their fears and making their sacrifices, they literally led this nation to face itself in a way that made possible civil rights legislation and fostered the social changes which have created our country as we know it today. As we know, King too was willing to put his life on the line.
Ok, but you say, these are nice stories, very familiar, but big stories, about outsize personalities. You and I are not Gandhi or Martin Luther King.
Here's something a little closer to home, having to do with our medical mission team to Guatemala. Recently I stood in an operating room in Antigua near a surgeon as he carefully repaired a child's cleft palate that nature had done a bad job of assembling. It was one of four or five operations that he would do that day. Here's the part having to do with our theme: When it was over the surgeon walked out with a limp, bent over a bit, to make his notes. Why the sloppy posture? Because he has five degenerated discs in his back. Standing for 7 or more hours a day doing these operations probably doesn't help him, narrowly viewed. But he endures this discomfort; his focus during that week was on the sixteen or so kids who as a result of his skills gained a shot at normal life. By the way, did you know that last year in Guatemala over 18,000 people got free medical care through the Faith in Practice organization which administers these mission trips? And that's just one group? So much happens, all the time, by people stepping up like this.
But still, you may feel this is a little removed. What does suffering and sacrifice, and Jesus in Jerusalem have to do with you, your life? How are you touched by this? Let me turn to all of us who are parents, who have been children, and who have what you consider to be good or true friends. Am I leaving anybody out? Now, think about a time when you as a parent did something for your child or children that involved a sacrifice, some self-giving on your part—or when someone did something for you which involved a cost, some sacrifice…A time when you truly extended yourself for someone you loved, or someone did the same for you. Take a moment and let yourself realize the importance to you, or them, of being willing to take this kind of action…
I remember a chance conversation with my brothers and sister a few years ago. We got to talking about the fact that our parents were absolutely determined that all of us would have certain things …and wondered how they managed that on their limited income. Only now were we realizing how much effort it must have taken. It was the kind of conversation that many of us could probably have about some benefactor in our lives.
We've been talking primarily about people close to us, loved ones and close friends. The caring they represent—is it not a window onto something larger? Are not many of our lives concerned with more than just our families and close friends? Certainly many people in this congregation are stepping into some level of sacrifice or discomfort all the time for reasons of faith and conscience. No one does it in order just to complicate their lives or endure something, but to accomplish something of importance for and with others who have need.
Let me suggest that when we do this, when we enter into some service to others, especially because we love or care about them, something mysterious happens. Life becomes about more than you, and the typical problems and difficulties of life occur within a larger context. Many of the typical issues of self-absorption become less central. You get a glimpse of what Jesus taught and showed—who he was. Moving into caring and doing, into self-giving of this sort, is all about “what” not “why.” And it is the kind of “what” that changes one's perspective on the world. My mother at the age of 80 would go to an assisted living center to play the piano during Sunday services. “How is it,” I asked. “Fine,” she said, “but some of those folks are really old!” For myself, I have never done a service project or taken some compassionate action when I don't feel I have received at least as much in return as what I have given. What about you?
Jesus shows the way today, yet again. All of his teaching demonstrates great blessing: “God is with us, with you.” “I am with you.” And then “care for one another as I have cared for you.” It's not about the ride, certainly not about the cheering, though we need to let that be, for otherwise the stones themselves would speak. It's about who he is, what he shows us of a way to be, the way of a covenant of caring among all people, focused on what we can do in His name. Our Lord reminds us today that it is not about threats, difficulties or the prospect of suffering. It is about who you are and what is important to be and do and stand for, to give your life to. He rode into Jerusalem aware of the cheering but also the killing stares, willing to give his life for us all—the most radical level of caring possible. As he rides past, the question is not what shall I become, but how shall I follow. Your and my invitation this Palm Sunday is to follow Him who says “this is my body, given for you.”
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