Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord B
Around this time each year,
I
look forward to the annual Spring musical
put
on by our teenagers over at Franklin Academy.
So
much talent and hard work go into those productions!
This
year’s performance was no exception.
But
as much I might enjoy the show,
there’s
always an invisible line
drawn
right at the edge of the stage.
I
may have been entertained or even inspired;
a
catchy tune or life lesson might follow me home.
But
the world I’ve just seen taking shape under the lights
is
not my world:
I
do not enter it, and it does not enter mine.
There’s
a boundary fixed
between
the world of the musical and the real world,
between
the show’s cast and its audience.
Around
this time each year,
we again
hear the story of the Lord’s Passion.
And
because we customarily break up the reading
into
different parts, different voices,
it
can seem an awful lot like a script…
…but
that’s awfully deceiving.
This,
you see, is not a play.
And
we, my friends, are not an audience.
When
it comes to Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection,
there
are no mere observers.
Everyone
is an actor in it.
The
Church’s annual celebration of Holy Week
is
more than a simple retelling of a tale from the past—
however
moving or meaningful.
And
it’s much more than an historical reenactment—
no
matter that all we commemorate is history,
and,
indeed, at history’s very heart.
This
week—if we allow ourselves—
we
are swept up once again into the Paschal Mystery.
The
line between past and present disappears.
Because
of the time warp that is the sacred liturgy,
“then
and there” becomes “here and now.”
There’s
no line marking the edge of the stage:
the
curtain has not only been raised,
but
the veil has been torn completely in two.
That’s
why we wave palm branches.
That’s
why we break bread at the Lord’s Supper.
That’s
why we’ll embrace—even kiss—the precious wood of the Cross.
That’s
why we’ll wait in daring hope outside a tomb of stone.
We’re
so much more than spectators!
And
all that we see taking place
not
only happens here in the real world—
it’s
the most real thing in the world,
and
uniquely has the power to transform the whole world.
If
you’re an actor in this drama,
then
what part have you chosen to play?
Are
you the woman with the perfumed oil,
who
spares no expense when it comes to showing her devotion,
or
someone who regards such a display as a waste?
Are
you Peter, who denies in order to save his own skin,
or
Judas, who betrays for reasons
maybe
even he doesn’t understand?
Are
you a member of the Sanhedrin,
so
afraid of change that you’re willing
to falsify
the facts right in front of you,
or
are you Pilate, who’s easily swayed by political forces,
yet
afraid to rock the boat?
Are
you swept up with the crowd, calling for Barabbas…
…just
because everybody else is, too?
Are
you willing to shout, “Hosanna!” one day,
but
then cry, “Crucify him!” another?
Are
you Simon, reluctantly pulled in from the sidelines,
or
Joseph, who had previously followed in secret
but
has suddenly found his courage?
Are
you Salome or one of the two Mary’s,
who
have been faithful all along
and
aren’t about to change course now?
Or do
you claim to take no part whatsoever—
which
is, ironically, to chose the role of so many
who
stood silently by, or left and fled?
This
is not a play,
and
there is no audience.
You
must act.
Choose
your part.
with inspiration from G. Rutler
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