What Happened?

 Time goes so quickly — a constant reminder not to waste a moment of it. Already it is a week since Easter Sunday and, this year in Upstate New York, the change in the physical seasons reflects the change in the spiritual. All of a sudden it feels like winter is over and spring has finally arrived. The snows of last weekend have turned to sunshine today. 

 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do not underestimate the importance of winter — a time of hiddenness and preparation, of unseen growth, a womb time. But now, it is time for life to start to burst forth, a time of hope and promise. The shoots are pushing through the soil, the trees are starting to bud and the glimmer of a green canopy can be seen around the deciduous ones. 

 

Earlier this morning Andy and I were treated to a dance by the Turkey Vultures. It is a sight that each year fills us with wonder. They overnight in our very tall pine trees and then they spend perhaps half an hour swirling and dancing overhead obviously catching the wind currents. The movement of the birds reflect joy. They are magnificent creatures. It is always a privilege to watch them.

 

I think that sense of hope and promise that spring brings to Upstate New York would have been present with the disciples in the story told in the lectionary today (John 20:19-31). The text contains a two-fold tale. The first is of the disciples gathering in fear behind locked doors when Jesus appears to them, gives them the gift of the Holy Spirit and the blessing of peace. 

 

The second is the story of Thomas, who missed out on the prior visit of Jesus, and a week later had his own post-resurrection visit. Thomas’ need for this visit has given rise to him being labelled “doubting”. Personally, I don’t like this interpretation of the text. I prefer to see Thomas as desperate to have the same spiritual experience as others. I think everyone is a bit like that wanting to see and experience for themselves rather than hear about it second-hand. I have just written about how wonderful it was to watch the Turkey Vultures, anyone reading my account can recognize what it meant to us but cannot feel the same wonder without having been there. It sure it must have been the same for Thomas. I have written and spoken about this many times before. (It is in my blog entitled “Thomas’s Plea for Inclusion”)

 

So, although I love the story and humanness of Thomas, my musing today will return to the other disciples. As a lingering thought this week, I want to consider all that happened in that room where the disciples were hiding in fear behind closed doors. The text contains the Johannine account of the giving of the Holy Spirit, which is a quieter, gentler version of the event than the one told in Luke/Acts and I like that. No tongues of fire or sound like a mighty rushing wind are seen and heard. Instead, Jesus simply breathed on them and gave a blessing of peace. And they were changed. 

 

I think most people can identify with that — something happens, a significant life event, or a realization of something deep within oneself and it changes everything. Nothing will ever be the same again. It is not just an outward change but a deep inner change — and hopefully one for good! The experience may lead to an instant change or may be the catalyst that begins the work to be done with a determination for change to happen. 

 

The change for the disciples was momentous. They were behind closed doors afraid of the same fate befalling them. All it took was one breathe, and the fear left them or started to leave them. One of the other readings in the lectionary today (Acts 2:27-32) is the story of the disciples before the high priest being reprimanded for speaking and teaching in the name of Jesus. Their fearless response is that they are obeying God rather than the human authority (29). A profound change had happened, a wonderful example of non-violent disobedience, and all because they were breathed on and received a blessing of peace.

What a crowd!

Palm Sunday’s readings unsettle the normal rhythm of the lectionary. I think that is a good thing, as anything a little strange or out of the ordinary causes a ripple to which the reader pays extra attention. So, today, it is worth highlighting that the usual pattern of the lectionary is disrupted. The first reading is a gospel story and, incidentally the text upon which I will focus today. Following this reading is the litany of the passion, the litany of the psalms, a text from the epistles followed by a second long gospel passage.

 

I urge each person reading this blog to spend some time with the litany of the passion, the litany of the Psalms and the longer gospel passage (Luke 22:13 to the end of chapter 23) during the next week — the final week of Passiontide. I would be interested to hear whether it was meaningful to reflect on these longer texts in the days leading up to the Easter events.

 

But today, on this Palm Sunday, I’m going to remain with the first, shorter reading (Luke 19:28-40). It is the story of the triumphant entry into Jerusalem where Jesus rides into the city on a colt with crowds shouting and throwing down their cloaks to protect the young animal’s hooves. 

 

I have attended a few parades in the past. There is always an air of excitement, crowds push forward as they see distant figures and anticipate the approach. There is something about crowds gathering whether it is at fun carnivals, solemn parades honouring royalty or famous dignitaries or more serious protests. They take on a life of their own. People are captured by the excitement of the moment.  The emotions of the crowd supersede and add to the emotions of the individual. 

 

As I read this text, describing in just a few words the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, I can try to imagine a little of the vibrant atmosphere. Yet, I can’t fully enter into the joy of the event portrayed as I know the end of the story. So, my reading is always tinged with sadness. Crowds that are cheering and shouting, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heaven” (38) will in just a few short days be jeering and shouting, “Crucify, crucify him’ (Luke 23:21).

 

What happened? 

How did cheering turn to jeering?

How did acknowledging Jesus as one from God turn to demanding death and public shame? 

Are human beings really that fickle?

 

I wonder could personal beliefs and public opinion really change that quickly. At both events, could it be that the mass hysteria of the crowd mask the true feelings of the individuals (either pro or against Jesus). I find this a salutary warning on a number of levels.

 

As I ponder the stories, spiritually this final week of Passiontide is an emotional roller-coaster, full of paradoxes; disturbing and inspiring, unsettling and uplifting, sorrowful and joyful, turbulent and peaceful.

 

So, if like for me this week is a bit of a roller-coaster — hold on tight, the ride is about to begin!