Triumph to Tragedy

Text: Mark 14:1-11

Focus: Holy Week Worship

Function: To help people consider the events of passion week, worship and be connected to God.

Form: Storytelling

Intro:

I love to imagine the events of Palm Sunday, nearly 2,000 years ago.

I picture an early Spring, a warm day, clear skies and an huge crowd of well-wishers who have genuine and real hope.

I envy those people who were the only people in history to be living with, walking with, eating with and rejoicing with Jesus, their Savior.

We know that these were a people who were hard-pressed by the Roman powers that have occupied their lands and have imposed taxes so heavy on them that for most of them, they have little to eat, little to wear, and very few comforts. All the rest of their income is being sent away to a government whose claims to be giving them “peace.” But the “peace” they experience is for them to submit to this bondage, or face death. And it isn't just a clean, relatively painless death, but it is death on a Roman Cross, one of the worse tortures that mankind has ever invented. The empire said “follow our `peace,' or die ugly.”

And yet, we see Jesus coming to them. They know that Jesus is something completely different than their own religious leaders.

Jesus loves them. Jesus heals them. Jesus cares for them. The rumors about His power have now come true because for this crowd, just a few days before, in a city just a few miles away, Jesus has given back life to a man who had been dead four days. In so doing, Jesus signs his own death warrant.

They may not have had email, telephones, Facebook, or twitter to spread the news, but let me tell you, the gossip traveled fast. The Religious leaders who felt threatened by Jesus were all but in a panic about Jesus. They didn't have an answer for the fact that He was performing some pretty spectacular miracles.

Moses was born to lead Israel. But he was only human and he messed up. At 40 years of age, he took matters into his own hands, killed an Egyptian and had to flee for his life. The Jews knew who he was, but when he was 40, they rejected him as leader. So now he was gone, out of sight for 40 years. And God sends him back to deliver God's people from their slavery. God told Moses “I have seen the suffering of my people and it is time for me to do something about it.”

God sees our suffering.

This time the people were not likely to reject their leader so quickly. They saw Jesus as a new Moses. Even Moses prophesied that another great prophet would come. A prophet who was equal with Moses in power and authority. He would be a prophet who would establish a new covenant with God and the Jews.

The people were excited. Jesus came at just the time that the prophet Daniel said He would come. Their hope was renewed.

And on that, as I imagine it, clear, spring-time Sunday morning, a week before their most important festival and crowds were beginning to fill the city from all over the world, on that morning the Savior rides into town and the people come out in droves. Finally, they allow themselves a chance to experience hope.

Hope is a powerful thing. It can take people through the worst circumstances. And these people were in a bad place.

To them, maybe, the years of suffering were over. Just as Moses demonstrated God's power against a nation that had enslaved the Jewish people for 400 years, Jesus was going to do the same thing. That was their hope.

I wonder if they hoped that Jesus would appear before Pilate and tell him to let his people go?

Did they imagine that God would send the 10 plagues on the cities of the Roman occupation and leave the Jews exempt? Would God bring down the entire Roman empire?

I can imagine the excitement and speculation in the buzz among the people that day.

How sad that the people did not know of the sinister plot against Jesus!

It was a sinister plot brought directly on Jesus, and therefore indirectly on them, by the people who were entrusted with their care.

As always, we see that a mob can be easily swayed and manipulated. History has shown that time and time again.

The crowd that day was shouting out “Hosanna!”

The direct translation is: “Lord, Save us”

They knew that those cries were direct rebellion against the Roman oppressors. And they had enough hope to risk it.

How sad. They were betrayed by their own leaders who were more concerned for their own power and wealth than the welfare of the people they were entrusted to protect.

Of course, we know that it was all in God's plan.

The triumph of that moment was real, but the Salvation that was to come was spiritual, not political.

And on the human side of it all, it became a tragedy.

Jesus was betrayed, then He was abandoned, and then He was crucified.

The mob, the fickle mob, cried out “Lord, Save us” on Sunday and then cried out “Crucify Him” on Friday.

And that is what happened on passion week, the week we -celebrate is too strong a word, the week we remember in worship this week.

Last week we mentioned the significance of the Lenten fast. It is not a command and it is only something you should do if you feel compelled to do. It doesn't make us better Christians.

But the idea is that Jesus suffered. And Jesus calls us to take up our crosses as well.

Holy Week provides several opportunities to do that.

First. I hope you have been doing some sort of devotional every day. (HOLD UP) Here is the Lenten devotional guide. If you have laxed on using it during Lent, try to make sure you use it this week.

I believe that it is important that we experience a connection to Jesus and what He has done or us. And that takes some sort of discipline. It takes intentional action.

There were two smaller miracles that week. They were miracles of providence and miracles of preparation. On Palm Sunday, Jesus told two of the disciples to head into town and take a baby donkey that would be tied up there. If anyone questions them, just tell them “The master needs it.” Apparently God had prepared someone's heart to lend Jesus the donkey.

And on the night of the last supper, the night Jesus was betrayed a similar incident happened. Jesus told two disciples to show up at a certain house and do the final preparations for the passover feast in the upper room. And the miracle was that God had laid it on the heart of that person beforehand to prepare the place.

God calls our heart to Jesus this week. And our intentional action prepares the way for it.

Read John 13:1-17.

This happened the night Jesus was sold for 30 pieces of silver.

And a re-creation of that event will happen here this Thursday.

I want to beg you to come, but that would be manipulative.

So, let me strongly encourage you to come here for Thursday night's worship. Let me call you to intentional action to connect to this worship service that is designed to placed us right there in the room with Jesus. It is designed to connect us with Him.

It is open to everyone. It is a beautiful and solemn ceremony. It is a chance for us to act out what must have been in the minds of the disciples that night.

We will begin with a chance to wash each other's feet. Men on one side, women on the other.

When that is over, we will enjoy a simple meal of meat, bread, and broth. It is a symbolic meal. It is a form of the ancient passover meal that the Jews celebrated.

And then, we partake of the bread and the wine, or in our case, juice and bread, we call this “Full Communion.” It is full, or complete, because when Jesus speaks these words in John 13, it doesn't come out well in the translation, but the promise is this, “Happy are you, when you do ALL of these things.” In our obedience to scripture, we too, practice communion in this fashion.

Some people will say, “washing someone else's feet seems sort of grotesque.” It does. But, it is also a privilege.

Love and Lent

How my faith was formed in the midst of betrayal

Mar 17, 2012 by Carol Howard Merritt

"I saw him in the parking lot with her. I think he wanted to get caught," my mom's hushed voice bleeds with betrayal. Unlike most gossip, this conversation doesn't have the quality of a listener, hungry for salacious trivialities. The whole house feels on edge, as I sit on the couch in an adjoining room, straining to hear.

I'm fifteen years old. I missed church that Sunday morning, but I'm catching up with what happened in the service through my mom's one-sided phone conversations. The instant mom hangs up the phone it rings again. She's in a t-shirt and shorts, walking back and forth with bare feet on the cork kitchen tile, reciting assorted facts and collecting others.

The bits and pieces come together. Our pastor had an affair and confessed it in his sermon. He stood up in front of the church and let the gathered members know that he had succumbed to temptation, but he was ready to just "move on."

The shocked congregation is not so ready to just move on. They want details. They demand to know exactly what had happened, how long, and with whom. The elders and the pastor schedule a meeting for that evening. As the sun goes down, my father leaves for the gathering of leaders.

My mother paces the kitchen a few more times. Instead of grabbing the phone again, she picks up a big basin and places our plushest guest towels inside of it. Then she yells out to the quiet house, "Carol! Let's go!"

The warm Florida night swells with the sound of crickets singing and waves crashing as we drive for about a half an hour, over a bridge, from the beach to the mainland, to our pastor's home. When we pull up to driveway, the house is dark. My determined mom still gathers the basin and towels and rings the doorbell.

I don't remember being let in. I just recall entering and seeing Margaret, our pastor's wife, sitting on a chair in her living room. She remains motionless in the dark room, in her beautiful home, staring at her lavish, white carpet, breathing deeply.

My mother takes the basin, walks into her friend's kitchen, and fills it with warm water. She carries it to Margaret's feet, taking off Margaret's shoes, she cradles her soles as if they are the most precious things in the world. Without a word, mom puts them in the water and washes them.

Margaret begins to cry and it doesn't take long before the tears smear all of our faces. Mom takes Margaret's feet out and dries them on the soft towels. Throughout the entire ritual, we don't talk, but we know what's being said. I even understand the depth of it, at my young age. Margaret is about to face some of the worst public betrayal, as people began to pick apart the indiscretions of her husband.

Privately, people make extremely difficult decisions to work through a spouse's unfaithfulness everyday. When it happens publicly, the betrayal magnifies. The most intimate facts of this affair would be drawn out for everyone. Margaret's character will even be questioned. And people will whisper about how they would never put up with such a thing. Some will even wonder if Margaret is the reason. Perhaps she was too frigid, and he had to find love elsewhere.

In the midst of the painful exposure, Margaret would sort out what she was going to do about her marriage. While hearing more details than she ever wanted to, she would have to evaluate everything in her life--her friends, the lies, her reputation, her pride, her children, and her financial situation.

Mom wanted Margaret to know one thing in the midst of it. Margaret would be cherished, even to the end of her toes.

My faith was formed that evening, not by the bitter betrayals, but in the love of the women. I think about that night each Lent, as we walk toward that treacherous path with Jesus. I recall how Mary took Jesus' feet, baptized them with her tears and perfume. She prepared Jesus for his death, not just with the costly ointments, but with the ritual that let him know that no matter what sort of trials he would face, he would do it realizing the love that soaked his skin.

Jesus said that whenever we spoke of the good news, we would do it in memory of her. So as I walk along this season, trudging the journey with the man of sorrows, I remember the reality of betrayal, but I tell the story with her memory. I think of all the times that the love had the ability to bathe toxic days and allow us to face injustice and cruelty.

It may be gross to some. To others, the harder part is not washing someone else's feet, but allowing our own feet to be washed. It takes genuine humility to allow another person to serve you. But Jesus gave us an example. We all know how important the bread and cup is and I want to remind us all that Jesus places similar importance on these other two rituals, the agape meal and foot-washing during the communion service.

Let me invite you to this service. I believe it is very important. I believe it is as important as Christmas and Easter worship services. The reason it is important is because it gives the worshiper the opportunity to be there. We sang that song “Were you there?” this morning. There is something special about re-creating those events that makes the Passion of Jesus come alive to us.

I know that for some, it is physically impossible to bend down. And for some there are other reasons why they feel that they cannot do the foot washing part of the service. Do not let that stop you from coming and participated in both the Triumph and the Tragedy of Christ. If you can't you will not be judged. All you have to do is simply back away from the table and we will respect your wishes.

But please come and join with us in this beautiful and solemn worship service.