Spirit Soundings for March 27, 2015

By Rev. Ruth Faith Santana-Grace

“As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice that all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!
(Luke 19:37-38)

When Things Go Wrong and the Singing Stops

I’ve often imagined myself as one of the first twelve – eagerly following Jesus through the land, watching him do all his amazing miracles. I’ve imagined myself soaking up his radical teachings (rebel that I can be), longing for the day when all the injustice would be put to rest; longing for the moment when all violence and oppression would cease.

Can you imagine the energy of the followers of Jesus as they crossed beyond the city walls of Jerusalem? Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! It was probably more than they could have ever imagined. If there were ever a mountain-top experience, this would have been it. Their Lord was being acknowledged by the masses – what a rush!

What was not being heard or seen on that first Palm Sunday were the whispers in the shadows. For every step they were taking toward their hope-filled prophetic fulfillment of the Messiah, there were powers and people who were also taking steps. Their actions; their hopes, were to quell the apparent revolution – and stop the singing.

As we know, those powers became stronger. The powers of a corrupt and fearful religious leadership collided with the powers of a fearful and equally corrupt political leadership. That combination of fear and corruption was such that Jesus of Nazareth was walked to his death on a cross. The power of those two forces coming together caused the sounds of hosannas to give way to the sounds of sobbing. The force of those two powers coming together gave way to a deadly silence – the kind that haunts us loudly; the kind of silence that is like a tapestry sewn together with the threads of fear, anger, denial, fleeing, betrayal, heartbreak, blame, hate and more. Could the first followers have ever imagined their hopes all going wrong in such a deadly manner? What would they do now that the singing had stopped?

What about us? How do we respond to the unexpected surprises that life thrusts at us? How do we find our voice when the unimaginable forces us into a place and space of which we do not want to be a part? Friends, this is a poignant question for us as we begin our final journey through the meandering Jerusalem streets to that hill where the silhouette of three crosses has become like a famous skyline – identifying the day that the singing stopped.

How do we move out from under the shadows – in our relationships at home, in our relationships at work, on the athletic fields, etc.? How do we as a church (congregations, ministries, presbytery, and otherwise) move out from under the shadows? How do we find the courage and hope to not let the silence smother the melodic sounds of resurrection hope?

We are entering the holiest of weeks – a week when we again recall that the singing turns to cries of “crucify.” It is a week when we again recall that the cries turn to the hammering of nails. It is a week when we again recall the silence of a Saturday – that would ultimately give way to a Sunday song of love not able to be contained by the darkness of a tomb.

May we join our voices in that song – through the witness of our ministries and missions – as we await what God will do next.