Now, it’s easy to write a sweet, touchy-feely sermon about not judging a book by its cover. But this passage, this story is about so much more than that. It’s about working to change our concept of what is moral, of what is right. It’s about changing our preconceived notions about what makes a good leader or even simply a good person…

…This is what fear can do. It can make us desperate, it can make us lose ourselves, can make us lose our identity. And this kind of fear, this desperation, I believe, is what led the Israelites in this passage to making an ill-informed decision that would go against everything right and just…

But more than being purified, he’s given a voice. It’s no wonder that the first thing Isaiah does with this new voice is exclaim “Here I am! Send me!” The grace and love of God give Isaiah this voice. He realizes that he is worthy to speak truth in the world, to speak truth to power…

But truly, what is so funny about this? What’s so funny about people being moved to communicate with one another? What’s so funny about people making an effort to truly understand their neighbor? What is so funny about understanding?

I’m really struggling with this—because on one hand, this is extremely relevant for today, in that it’s more crucial than ever that we trust people who are experts in their respective fields, those whose priority is the well-being of humankind, or the well-being of this planet, or whose priority is the well-being of our fair democracy. But on the other hand, in this post-truth world, it’s easy to throw up our hands and say what’s the point?

This is evangelizing—it’s paying attention to what’s speaking to someone, what’s giving someone hope, what’s touching someone’s heart and working with them from that point. It’s making sure not to force your own baggage to beliefs or interpretations onto someone. It’s about meeting someone where they are without judgement…

Zacchaeus, on the other hand, is a changed man. He says:  “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” This is 400% restitution. In Judaic law, normal restitution added only 20%. Numbers 5:7 says “ the person shall make full restitution for the wrong, adding one-fifth to it and giving it to the one who was wronged.” Twenty per cent, in today’s standards, is equivalent to a good tip for waitstaff in a restaurant, but 400%? This rich man, touched by Jesus, responds with faith and opens up his wealth to be shared. His heart is in the right place. He has gained access to God’s grace…

Our voices have power, Church. Our voices have the most power when we allow the Holy Spirit to fill us, when we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us to do the work of compassion that Jesus commands of us…

…our traumas and our sins and our tragedies are a part of us we cannot forget. This was true for Jesus—the marks on his hands and feet and in his side, they did not go away when he rose. This is true for us, and our own personal stories—our history, no matter how much we want to forget some of it, it shapes us, it makes us who we are, for better and for worse. And this goes for this country, and all the economic and humanitarian crimes this country has committed, all the crises and momentous events it has successfully weathered throughout the centuries. We can’t whitewash over the hard things and pretend they never happened. We have to face them and move forward and work so that this violence won’t continue happening….

…so I wonder if Thomas’ reaction is less one of a contrarian skeptic, and more one of someone who’s so upset he missed out on the experience of a lifetime, he has kind of knee-jerk reaction, out of some anger, some jealousy that he missed out. Instead of being able to celebrate with his friends, he’s so upset he missed seeing his risen savior, that he stubbornly insists, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’ Sort of an ancient Biblical version of the modern-day internet saying, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

…Mary is chosen to announce to the world, I have seen the Lord. Yes, Mary saw the Lord, but the Lord also saw her. The Lord saw her in her time of need and revealed himself. The Lord saw her in her time of isolation and confusion and said her name…

It’s fitting, Church, that for this Palm Sunday the scripture reading is the Marcan version of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem. It’s fitting, I think, because Mark’s version of this story, as compared to the other three is much more subdued, much more subtle—it’s overall, not especially triumphant…

Church, when Jesus says “…when I am lifted up from the earth, [I] will draw all people to myself.’ That all there is from a genderless Greek word. When Jesus says all, he means all. Every single person. We are all saved, we are all going be okay. But in this world, even after everything Jesus went through to overcome hatred, violence, and death, in this world, things are too broken for Jesus’ death and resurrection to have the meaning it’s supposed to….

We’re right in the middle of Lent, Church. It really is a perfect time, as we lead up to Jesus’ death and resurrection that took place out of God’s unconditional love for us to know that we deserve that love…

I know we’re all aching to be back in the sanctuary together, and surely we will be soon. But as the pandemic drags on just a little bit longer, as we remain stuck in our homes, as we grow more impatient, (and I say we, because trust me, I am right there with you all) let us take some real lessons from this scripture passage. Let us remember that the church isn’t just a building…

In Peter’s time, the idea that the messiah would be someone who would deign to stoop to our level was unthinkable. In Peter’s time, the messiah certainly wasn’t someone who would suffer and die a very human death. I can imagine that the disciples were, after dropping everything to follow Jesus, hoping for a relatively comfortable life as compensation for their sacrifices. But here was Jesus not only saying he would suffer and die, but that followers of Jesus should be prepared to do the same. I think, church, that when we hear information and facts that aren’t to our liking, we try to deny those facts, or twist them in a way that better suits us, that’s more comfortable for us. But Jesus isn’t all about comforting all the time. Jesus is about making some people uncomfortable to get to the point that no people are uncomfortable…

So church, the hard swallow pill is this: it’s all on us. It’s all our doing. We’ve taken advantage of this earth and driven temperatures to new extremes. We’ve taken advantage of God’s love; we’ve taken advantage of God’s promise, and we’ve taken too much too fast, and now, here we are. My friend Dan brought a quote to my attention recently—a quote by Jewish rabbi and theologian Abraham Heschel: “…morally speaking…in a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible…”

…we need to look at the whole picture. We need to figure out how we got here, to a place where millions teeter on the brink of homelessness. We need to figure out how we got to a place that leaves the most vulnerable forgotten and disregarded. This did not happen overnight. This pandemic sped things up, sure, but the gap between the haves and the have-nots has been growing for decades. And we won’t fix the problem by building monuments or harvesting outrage on social media. Jesus guided his friends to find the right time to spread the word and do the work, so we have to listen for what Jesus is telling us today—to listen to others so we can understand how we got here, and so we can understand where we go from here…

…today, it’s more necessary than ever to embrace our insignificance, to embrace our inner grasshopper. This may initially be a tough pill to swallow. Embracing our insignificance can sound a little nihilistic, but I assure you it’s not. Church, recognizing that we’re but little scurrying grasshoppers—it’s freeing!