Palm Sunday, Yr. B; April 1,
2012
Isaiah 50:4-9a; Philippians
2:5-11; Mark 15:1-47
Sermon Preached at St.
Stephen’s Episcopal Church
As
the events surrounding the death of Trayvon Martin in Florida have played out
on the airwaves, I have listened to reporters and lawyers and parents. I have heard how Trayvon was speaking
by cell phone to a friend. How he
told her he was being followed.
How she told him to run.
And he did. How this
someone followed him. How
his friend told him to run again, and this time he said, “No. I’m not running anymore.” I
listened as Trayvon’s father, Tracy Martin, talked about his son on Tell Me
More on NPR Thursday evening. When the reporter asked him, “What do
you think happened out there?” Tracy said this.
"He
didn't do anything to have to run. He definitely belonged in the area where he
was at. There was no reason for him to run. And I honestly think that Zimmerman
approached him, tried to detain him. And as a person, he's always been taught
to defend himself. If you try to detain an individual that you have no
knowledge of, you don't know them, you know — he's supposed to go on the
defensive. If Zimmerman came up to
grab your kid — [I mean, maybe your kids are smaller] — I'm sure you would tell
your kids to yell, kick, scream, whatever — get away from this individual, you
don't know them. I think all
Trayvon was trying to do was get home safe."[1]
Why
this event has been occupying my mind as I read our gospel today isn’t entirely
clear to me, but I know it has something to do with the violence of the
crucifixion and the violence that stills plagues our streets.
Jesus was someone’s son, a man
committed to peaceful action in defiance of the dominant culture. He probably was seen as a trouble maker
in his own town. He was a young
adult who left the family trade to go ramble around the countryside in search
of disciples, not a very profitable decision I’m afraid. His stories put him at odds with the
religious leadership of his day and his willingness to associate with just
about anyone probably didn’t help him win the right friends or gain an economic
advantage. But that didn’t seem to
matter to him. What mattered was
living into the freedom he found in God, the freedom to love unabashedly.
Tracy
said that his son was a “good kid”.
Wouldn’t Mary have said the same thing? Jesus was a “good kid”, a “good man” in fact. Yet Jesus ended up on a cross, hanging
between two criminals, and Mary watched him die from the foot of the
cross. I guess I’m wondering how
long we will go on crucifying one another. I’m wondering what it will take for us to wake up to the
idea that violence doesn’t solve our problems. It isn’t getting us anywhere worth going … except to the foot
of various crosses. God sent His
Son into the world to save us. To
show us what it means to love recklessly, to live as though the barriers we put
up between us don’t exist.
The leaders of Jesus’ time weren’t so good at getting the message. His disciples weren’t so good at
getting the message either.
Then he died, and his followers thought that was the end. Were they ready for that? Are we ready? Can anyone ever be ready?
I
don’t think he was really looking forward to it all. That seems clear from his prayer in the garden of
Gesthemane. “Take this cup from
me”, but if that’s not possible, then let your will be done … he said. Jesus didn’t want to die, but he was
willing to die. Dying was
preferable to denying all he had worked for. Was he ready? I
think he was as ready as any human being can be, and probably more so because
he was living in full communion with God.
He had the capacity to accept the full force of God’s self-giving within
himself. God’s love had made a
home in him. I have to believe
that there was some comfort in that … even if at the end, he called out in
despair.
Jesus
didn’t seek revenge against anyone at his death. Tracy Martin doesn’t want that either. He’s not after an eye for an eye, or a
tooth for a tooth, but he wants justice.
Jesus would have wanted that too, because that’s what Jesus was about
throughout his ministry. We’re
still figuring out what God’s justice might look like in our world, but hearing
Mr. Martin speak made me believe that just maybe we’re getting a glimpse of
it. He didn’t try to turn this
into a huge racial issue though he could have done that during this
interview. He didn’t scream and
yell as I might have, if it were my daughter who had been shot. He didn’t dismiss his son’s actions, or
deny that his son struggled. He
admitted his humanity with humility.
He was thoughtful and respectful when he spoke about anyone involved. He’s trying to understand. He’s looking for justice …
persistently, faithfully, with all his heart.
That
walk toward Calvery that we heard in the gospel today resulted because the
leaders of the day were more afraid of losing their power than they were of
committing an unjust act. They
were willing to sacrifice a human life to perpetuate an unjust system and
protect their position within it.
Their lives were more valuable than Jesus’ life. Every life lost is irreplaceable. Every life lost diminishes us all.
On
this Palm Sunday, as we begin our walk through Holy Week, it is my hope that we
might stand up together. I hope
that we will walk with eyes and hearts open to the pain and suffering in our
world. I hope we walk with eyes
that are willing to still see the injustices that confront us in our city and
in society. I hope we walk with
hearts broken open with the suffering we are blessed to see … so that in our
freedom we can choose to act with compassion, to act in love the way Jesus so
often did, to act in the hope that comes to us through the resurrection we know
has already taken place. Then …
others will recognize Jesus alive in us, and we in him. In that, we just might find a word to
sustain the weary … and ourselves as well.
Amen.
[1] Taken from the transcript of an interview
with Tracy Martin by Michele Martin on Tell Me More, March 29, 2012 on NPR. Trayvon's
Father: We Don't Want 'An Eye For An Eye at http://www.npr.org/2012/03/29/149562744/trayvons-father-we-dont-want-an-eye-for-an-eye.
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