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Sermon 03/20/2005
Let Us Be Going ~ by Tom
Kinder
March 20, 2005, Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday
First Congregational Church in Thetford, Vermont,
UCC
Matthew 21: 1 - 11; 26: 14 -27; 26:66
“Let us be going,” Jesus turns and says,
but we don’t want to go, we want to sleep
here in the garden of our innocence, lulled by
the spring night sounds and sweet, moist smells,
here in our hiding place where we feel safe, even
if it is denial, even if the pillow comforting
our head is rock.
First he said, “Stay awake with me and watch,”
And that was bad enough, but now, to go—
and not with words of fighting or retreat
but saying his betrayal is at hand!
Everything in us wants to run away.
How can this man who loved and healed and fed
and showed such power, speaking words of hope
and revolution, lifting up the poor,
now give it up and let so many down?
Why is he choosing suffering and death
and asking us to follow? We don’t want to,
despite our shame at his clear disappointment.
We groan and get up slowly, stretching, yawning,
rubbing the crick the stone put in our neck.
And only when we see the searching torches
climbing the path, and hear the pounding feet
finally then we do what Jesus asked—
stay wide awake, and watch wide-eyed and pray.
“Get up. Let us be going,” did he say?
No problem now. We edge back toward the shadows.
We will be going at the first good chance
to slip away unnoticed into darkness.
Only a couple of us rise to fight,
but in the end they, too, fall back and flee.
That was the way it was, and is, and maybe
it ever shall be. No one wants to go
where Jesus asks, or where he goes himself.
Who wants to suffer, really, sweating blood?
Who wants to turn their self-protective will
over to God, who let his son be killed?
Who wants to stay awake and agonize
when they could sleep, self-medicate or hide?
Who wants to rise and go to greet their death?
It is not natural to want these things.
It goes against our instinct for survival.
Denial and escape are half of that
great pharmaceutical response we have,
the fight or flight adrenal arsenal,
so deeply programmed in our ancient brain.
It isn’t natural to override
that instinct. Judas comes with soldiers and
a kiss, and we draw swords in thoughtless rage
or run with terror darkening our minds.
But Jesus leads us down another path,
a third or middle way, with all the courage
and urge to make things right of those who fight,
and with revulsion at all violence
that is the wisdom of the ones who run.
Jesus says, “Let us be going,” and he
leads
into the grief and fear we fight or flee.
He leads us to the truth that we don’t want
to drink our cup of suffering and sorrow.
We don’t want just to let God’s will
be done
if it will hurt us or someone we love.
And we don’t want to see the truth of that,
either—the truth of our self-love’s
self-will
that sleeps or runs or fights against God’s
will.
This is the garden Jesus leads us to—
not Eden with its innocence and peace,
but our Gethsemane where we are asked
to wait, to watch, to stay awake, to pray,
to struggle with the hard truths of our lives,
to sacrifice self-will, peace, comfort, safety,
to trust in what our nature does not trust:
a God we know will bring us pain and death,
and a path that leads to obvious defeat.
This is what Jesus asks of you this week,
that you submit yourself to what God wants
you to go through. What is your bitter cup,
the trial that your spirit says to face
even if your weak flesh would rather not?
What pain have you been hiding from yourself?
What choice have you been sleeping through or
fleeing?
What conflict has you sharpening your sword?
Jesus is asking that you come with him.
Thursday come sit and stay awake and pray,
prepare to meet the Judas in your heart,
prepare to enter darkness, crucified,
dying on Friday that effective death
that you know you must die to serve God fully.
Offer your will and body to God’s cause
and let come what will come, and let all go.
Saturday dwell in darkness like a tomb
that seems hopeless, defeated, guarded, sealed.
Pray that God give you faith to last that night
so Sunday morning you may find revealed
new life, changed, freed—washed clean in
Easter light.
“Let us be going,” Jesus turns and calls.
Let us be going on this way that none would choose.
This is the week when each who follows falls
and wins what we can’t win unless we lose.
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