Today our Liturgy compresses the events of several days into a single recollection; so that, in one liturgical remembrance we have before us the great joy of our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem, in which He was exuberantly hailed as the King who comes in the Name of the Lord, . . . and we are quickly brought to the wretched sorrow of His humiliation; . . . we are quickly brought to Christ’s torture, crucifixion, and death.  . . . But it’s not only all of Holy Week which the Palm Sunday Liturgy compresses; . . . our liturgy also recapitulates your Christian life; . . . indeed, it recapitulates the life of the entire Christian Family.  Because, you see, we have, on the one hand, the incredible joy of knowing Jesus as friend and Lord, . . . and yet, on the other hand, we have the whole unpleasant business of following Him; . . . we have the whole unpleasant business of simplicity, detachment, and focus; . . . of poverty, chastity, . . . and obedience.

    First we have Judas.  Judas is the fulcrum who gives both the Devil and the Jewish authorities the leverage they need to get at Jesus.  . . . Now, I don’t know why Judas did what he did -- why he made the crucifixion possible -- . . . but whatever was behind what he did, . . . what he did was to shake his fist in God’s face.  Judas rebelled against God.  He just got fed up with God’s gentleness . . . and tried to force God into ridding the earth of stinkers by doing violence to Jesus!  . . . Just saying that -- that Judas got fed up with God’s gentleness and decided to do violence to Jesus -- . . . just saying it shows us how irrational a thing it is to rebel against God.  . . . Nor does it take any particular talent for evil.  You don’t have to be a bad person to oppose God.  Rebellion only requires that you want your own way more than you want God’s; . . . it only requires impatience and petulance . . . and a touch of pride.  . . . I’ll bet any one of us is capable of thinking we can do something better than God does it, . . . just like Judas did.

    The consequence of rebellion, however, is quite the opposite of what we had hoped.  Rebellion does not give us power over God; . . . it does not add to our dignity; . . . rebellion diminishes it:  rebellion diminishes our dignity.  Judas’ contempt for God . . . simply makes him laughable.  With a great deal of melodrama Judas tells the arresting party that they’ll know the man to be taken . . . because Judas will greet Him with their customary sign of brotherly affection:  Judas tells his conspirators he will greet Jesus with a kiss.  . . . And so, Luke tells us, Judas, one of the Twelve, comes leading the crowd that ruffles the peace of the Mount of Olives, and he steps up to Jesus to kiss Him, . . . and Jesus says, “Judas, would you betray the Son of man with a kiss?  How tacky.”  And Judas ends up standing there looking goofy . . . until someone breaks the awkwardness of the moment with a sword.

    Rebellion having done nothing more than upset the peace, . . . it requires Jesus . . . it requires the Word of God to restore order and dignity to His arrest.  And so, Jesus is brought to the high priest’s house . . . where we come face to face with self-absorption.  Peter, who at table with Jesus said that even though the others fall away, he will remain loyal, . . . Peter tries to keep his promise by following at a distance.  But it is darker and colder now than it was when Peter made his brave promise, . . . and when one of the serving girls makes Peter out as a disciple, . . . he denies it.  . . . Peter denies knowing Jesus three times.  And when the cock crows, Jesus turns and looks directly at Peter.

    I call that moment “the terrible glance of Jesus”.  . . . The terrible glance of Jesus.  Can you endure it?  Can you receive the look of those dark and knowing eyes . . . and look back into them with a smile and give Jesus the old “thumbs up”:  “I’m right here with you, Lord.”?  . . . Peter couldn’t.  Peter had become so anxious about his own safety . . . Peter had become so absorbed with his own needs . . . Peter had become so preoccupied with himself . . . that he lost sight of why he was there in the first place.  He lost sight of Jesus and became consumed with himself . . . so that when Jesus turns to ask with His eyes, “Are you still with me, Peter?”  . . . Peter is not.  Jesus told him earlier that evening, “Pray that you might not become distracted.”  But Peter did not pray . . . to his great sorrow.

    Finally, Jesus is led away to be crucified.  And in the course of things the Roman guard

seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus.

Can you imagine being Simon of Cyrene?  There’s a lot of Christian sentiment for Simon of Cyrene, following behind the Master; carrying the Cross of Jesus.  But that’s all it is:  sentiment.  I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about being interrupted from the neat orderliness of my business to do some soldier’s dirty work by walking way out of my way behind some gaunt and bleeding holy man.  . . . Most likely Simon of Cyrene wasn’t either.  “Oh darn!” (I’d be muttering under my breath)  “Those cussed Romans are always throwing their weight around.  Here I have important business and they grab me to walk behind this religious nitwit.  Oh great, now He’s ranting at some women.  Come on, looser, let’s get this over with so you can go to your reward and I can get back to mine.”  . . . If you were Simon of Cyrene, . . . is that more like what you might be thinking and what you might say?  Would indifference and impatience be your companions to console you in the midst of things you don’t care to understand and can’t control even if you did?

    Well, at length Simon of Cyrene and his companions arrive at Golgotha, the place called The Skull.  And Jesus is crucified.  Rebellion has brought Him here, Self-Absorption has denied Him comfort, Indifference and Impatience have snapped at His heals like a pair of dogs, . . . and Pride and Cruelty and every sort of human wickedness have compounded the suffering of Jesus, . . . and yet, once the nails have affixed Jesus to the Cross with sudden, savage pain, . . . and the Cross is raised up to be dropped into its hole with a thud, sending agonies of pain down the arms and up the legs of Jesus, . . . when He can get His breath again He says, . . . “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”  . . . Do you remember the First Sunday in Lent; how the Gospel for that day ends?  Saint Luke says that after tempting Jesus in the wilderness and getting nowhere, . . . the Devil “departed from him until an opportune time.”  This is the Devil’s opportune time!  And the Devil is completely defeated!  If Jesus had cursed us, He and we would have gone to the Devil.  . . . But the ineffable love of God forgives us! . . . and we are saved.

    “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”  We really don’t know what we do, . . . even when we know what we’re doing.  Humanity acts with an imperfect knowledge of eternity, and so, even when we have weighed all the possibilities and consequences, our very finitude means that we have ignored something essential.  . . . Original Sin is the harm we do by proceeding as if we did have a perfect knowledge of eternity; . . . as if were like God.  But our redemption exists in taking to heart the Word of the Son of God:  your Rebellion is forgiven, your Self-Absorption is forgiven, . . . Impatience and Indifference and Pride and Wickedness of every kind are all forgiven as well.  We really don’t know what we do, . . . and Jesus forgives us.

    The criminal crucified with Jesus believes Him, and says, “I justly deserve to die; . . . but Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  . . . And in response to His companion’s submission, Jesus says, “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  . . . “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”  You don’t have to die to go to Heaven.  Your Rebellion and Self-Absorption and Impatience and Indifference are forgiven . . . if you receive the Saviour’s forgiveness with simplicity; . . . if you regard with detachment any hope for overcoming, by your own powers, sin which the world, your own flesh, or the devil might offer you; . . . and if you appeal to the forgiveness of Jesus with unrelenting focus.

    Our Palm Sunday Liturgy recapitulates the Christian Life.  By the sign of the palms you have in your possession . . . we are reminded that there is great joy and hope and blessing in knowing Jesus as friend and Lord.  . . . He is an ever present source of divine encouragement and protection.  . . . And even though we’re sometimes unworthy of such a tremendous friendship by reason of our rebellion, self-absorption, impatience, and indifference . . . we have the sign of the Cross to call us to our senses.  We have the sign of the Cross to remind us that Jesus was crucified so a common murderer could go free; . . . we have the sign of the Cross to remind us that if we can bring ourselves to say, “Jesus remember me,” . . . the towering Benediction the Cross is ours.  If you can remember to submit yourself to Jesus, . . . today you will be with Him in Paradise.