Mark 14-15 - Passion Sunday Sermon

Listen to the sermon here.

“Crucify Him!”  “Crucify Him!” 

Our cry has come a long way since we last shouted Hosanna in the courtyard.

Certainly a drastic change in tone.   And of all the Sunday mornings that we spend together in in this place of worship and praise, today’s service is by far the most complex when we consider the emotional whiplash of our liturgy.  A triumphant entry into Jerusalem turned to a strenuous eviction to Golgotha.  Excited shouts of Hosanna became gut-wrenching cries for crucifixion.  Cloaks that once paved the way for the one who comes in the name of the Lord are now being stripped from Jesus and he’s mocked with a cloak of royal color.  Palm branches becomes reeds for striking. Tears of joy turns to water from the mouth as the soldiers spit on Jesus.   Proclamation becomes accusation.  Hope burdened by fear.

Crucify him! Our cry has come a long way since we last shouted Hosanna in the courtyard.  There is an entire existence of emotion caught between those two cries.  The world’s deepest groans are found in today’s story.  “Hosanna in the highest!” “Crucify him.”  Our cries of grief and anger...our shouts for mercy and forgiveness...our pleas for guidance and understanding… our groans for justice and peace…  the storms of our hearts are swallowed up in this passion story as our souls join the whole body of Christ and all the saints in crying out to Jesus.  Whether we shout with hope, anger, or everything in between...Holy Week acknowledges the complexity of our deepest cries.  Holy Week empowers us to be vulnerable.  Hosanna in the highest.  We all have shouts.  Crucify him! We are all crying out.

A family displaced as their country is ravaged with war cries out.

A gentleman down the street begging for scraps cries out.

A teenage girl threatened as she wrestles with being young and pregnant cries out.

Neighbors who long for a bed over a park bench or highway bridge.  

The couple who has everything yet feels so alone.  

Minorities rallying to be seen,  let alone heard cry out.

Impoverished communities void of clean water or medical resources.  

Women speaking out against relentless oppression are crying out.  

Parents prematurely burying a child.  

Teenagers begging for change.

A loved one processing a new or relapsing diagnoses.   

The bullied, persecuted or oppressed.  

Those who live in fear, because to be themselves means to risk shame, ridicule, or worse.

In a song by Gungor called Dry Bones the lyrics say, “My soul cries out.  My soul cries out for you. 

“My soul cries out.  My soul cries out for you.
Jesus, you’re the one who saves us,
constantly creates us into something new
Jesus, surely you will find us;
surely our Messiah will make all things new.
Will make all things new.”

As we enter Holy Week our souls cry out.  With the saints of old and the whole body of Christ our souls cry out.  We cry out to Jesus with a longing.  We groan for hope.  We shout at the temptation of sin.  We cry out in fear.

There’s no denying the angst that stirs-up within us as we transition rather quickly, abruptly from palm Sunday to Passion Sunday.    Today’s gospel lesson lifts up parts of scripture that are hard to understand.  These two chapters in Mark are challenging and convicting.  They’re painful and gruesome.   But make no mistake… today’s text is an intricate piece of our Christian faith.  If we proclaim the death and resurrection of christ as foundational for our faith, then today’s text is a necessary read.  The passion text is a necessary read because it gives us a space to shout. To Groan. To cry out.

“My soul cries out.  My soul cries out for you.

These bones cry out. These dry bones cry for you. 

To live and move, ‘cause only you can raise the dead, can lift my head up

My soul cries out.  My soul cries out for you.”

As we shout our way to the cross this week, don’t hold back.   We enter Holy Week and its breadth of emotions only by sure hope, certain promise, and unfailing love of God in the resurrection of Jesus.  Thank God, that we enter Holy Week knowing that our cries are heard.  Thank God that we are not left fleeing, denying, and wandering alone.  Thank God that Jesus too will cry out to God.  Thank God that the groans of this world, the shouts of longing, the desperate please, and the cries of fear are nailed to the cross.  And thank God on the third day the tomb will echo as the good news is proclaimed .. “He is risen. He’s not here.”  

I know that today is a weird day for the church.  It’s an emotional and liturgical whiplash. And whatever it stirs up within you, embrace it.  Take comfort knowing that the Spirit is always stirring.  And a story this complex and comprehensive stirs differently for everyone.  If today’s text causes you wrestle...wrestle.  If it makes you tremble...then tremble.  After all, we only read these chapters of scripture during Holy Week.  After this week, you won’t hear them again for the rest of the church year.

Amen.

© Preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on 03.25.2018 @ St. Mark's Lutheran JAX, FL