Palms to Passion

Palms to Passion

Holy Week, which began with Palm Sunday two days ago, begins on a high note of celebratory praise. From the gathered crowds thronging the roadside (some scholars believe Jersualem's population on that day in history increased fivefold from 40,000 to 200,000) we hear shouts of "Hosanna," "Save us," "The Messiah comes," "The Son of David." 

It is a raucous, jubilant event filled with faces young and old, with bodies agile and aged, with personalities ranging from subdued to explosive. As happens with a crowd of any size, the energy ripples through the crowds and returns back again and again for an even larger arc of explosive connection. (It is the very kind of crowd that we are currently prohibited from being part of due to the deadly epidemic confronting us).

Jesus enters Jerusalem, hailed a a king, but adorned and transported like the humble servant he understood himself to be. He is not riding an armored steed, but seated upon a braying donkey. His entrance is not smooth and flowing; it is halting, roughshod, according to the whim of a typically recalcitrant animal.

Even his humble entrance, though, cannot quell the passionate embrace of the people. They imagine their generational longings fulfilled, their days of oppression ended, their anticipated liberation finally within reach.

And so Palm Sunday ends, and Holy Monday and Holy Tuesday come. They are quieter days, but filled with percussive spiritual energy. Jesus cleanses the Temple, curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit; that evening Mary anoints Jesus' feet with expensive oil and her tears. On Tuesday Jesus debates with religious authorities in the Temple and issues his famous discourse about the end of the age on the Mount of Olives.

From the peak of public acclaim his work continues. As Jesus pulls together the final details of his earthly ministry, we sense a shift taking place. His day of immense popularity has gained the attention of those who have sought his demise for more than three years. For his opposers it is time to take action to bring this peasant-popular prophet down, once and for all.

And so Holy Tuesday is followed by Holy Wednesday, which in some circles is called "Spy Wednesday," because it recalls the night when Jesus is betrayed by Judas for thirty pieces of silver. By the time Jesus and his disciples assemble to share together a last meal, a profound shift has taken place. The air once filled with "Hosannas" and acclamations of praise is increasingly, hour by hour, heavier. Darker clouds are moving in as the moments of Jesus' passion begin to take form.

Most years -- I daresay in all the years of my life -- Holy Thursday (aka "Maundy" Thursday, from the Latin word for "command," as in Jesus' command to his disciples to love one another) is a sacred time of congregational gathering. We come together in the shadows of the evening, light candles, hear God's Word, sing contemplative music and then share together in the Eucharist. We observe the Lord's Supper, leaving in the quiet of the night to brace ourselves for the brutal barbarity of "Good" Friday and the tomb-silenced hush of Holy Saturday.

This year we will not gather face-to-face. We will, however, gather together in virtual reality via Facebook Live, using A Liturgy for When We Cannot Meet Face to Face. 

Theologically we understand that Holy Communion is intended for the physically gathered sharing gifts that have been consecrated in the context of in-person worship, so "virtual" communion is not possible. 

However, in alliance with our Methodist heritage, we may celebrate together in a kind of Love Feast celebration. This liturgy allows us to do so across the cyber world using our own source of light (candles or lamp), bread and water. It allows us to connect with one another and with God, quenching our basic hunger and thirst, while allowing us to anticipate earnestly the next opportunity commune around Christ's table with bread and juice, face-to-face with one another.

Please join us on Thursday evening at 7:30 via Facebook Live (our Boonsboro UMC Facebook page) to share together in this special gathering of God's people.

Resiliency

"Resiliency" is a contemporary term for what other generations might have called tenacity or grit or stubbornness. Resiliency is the ability to face difficult situations and have the perseverance to not only survive but to thrive.

We are just beginning to see the difficulties associated with COVID-19. Each day many of us check the headlines to see how many diagnosed cases are in our geographic area and how many lives have been taken by this insidious virus. Last week alone over 6 million American citizens filed for unemployment. In our Commonwealth we are currently under orders from our Governor to stay home, leaving only for necessities (like groceries or important medical appointments) and then to minimize contact with others.

If you have not yet experienced the death of someone you know from this pandemic, the time will soon come. My doctoral program cohorts are from around the country. One of my cohorts is an Executive Pastor at a large African-American church in Brooklyn, New York City. She has described the situation as beyond words, and that she is now being personally impacted by the death toll. Another cohort who lives in Austin, Texas, reported that her brother has died due to the virus.

Sometimes it feels like we are sheltering in place, watching the reports, listening to the experts (and non-experts), just waiting to be hit. It's a war-time scenario of a different kind. Unlike World War II, covering our windows and extinguishing all lights for a blackout effect will not prevent this enemy from coming. Unlike the war on poverty (LBJ's effort to provide equity to the forgotten), we have few effective tools to prevent or fight its spread. This can be an anxiety-producing time for all of us, especially those of us who underlying health concerns.

So what do we do? One way we can think and pray through what is upon is to remind ourselves of the value of resiliency. A colleague of mine in the Minnesota Annual Conference of the UMC blogged about resiliency earlier this week. Research shows that resilient people have at least three ways of looking at the world:

(1) They tend to be meaning-makers.

(2) They believe they have agency.

(3) They see successes and failures as teachers.

So, one of the ways we can help ourselves right now is to be intentional in strengthening our resiliency. Here are some ideas (keyed to the above three research findings):

(1) Take time to read deeply in the Scriptures ... identify what the writer is saying for his own particular context, then ask yourself how those words apply to yours. Is there a phrase that stands out as you read? Focus on it, think about tit, pray with it. Make meaning from the sacred texts of our faith tradition. Suggestions: the Psalms (any of them are good), Lamentations (perhaps we are in a period of lament ourselves), Job.

(2) Excise from your thinking the idea that you are a victim ... a victim because you have a compromised immune system ... a victim because you believe this is some sort of conspiracy you have no control over ... a victim by blaming others for what is an epidemiological plight ... a victim based on media reports (not enough beds, not enough ventilators, no known cure). These are the days to pull out those scripture texts that remind us who God is in our lives: Joshua Psalm 46, Psalm 121, Romans 8:28, Joshua 1:5-7. Beyond the spiritual, stay focused on keeping and boosting your health: adhere to the CDC guidelines about social distancing, eat healthily, exercise and enjoy the beauty of creation all around us, especially as spring crowns God's glory.

(3) As recovery groups say, make an honest and unflinching review of yourself. Where have you been successful? What are you most proud of? Where have been least successful? How have you learned from your mistakes? Who in your life has most disappointed you, and what can you learn about yourself?

One of the blessings of being a pastor is to know people beyond the surface level. It is such a privilege to be welcomed into the depths of individual and family lives through great celebrations and grievous woes. As I pray through my church directory, and as I envision your faces and names on a regular basis, I am identifying in my mind those areas of strength and resilience I see in you as individuals and as a congregation. (If you need me to tell you personally what resiliency I see in you, email me or give me a call. I'd be happy to encourage you).

I leave you with a thought from A. A. Milne (author of Winnie the Pooh):

You are stronger than you seem,

Braver than you believe,

and smarter than you think you are.