Why have you abandoned me?

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, April 2, 2023

(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)

Why have you abandoned me?

The Lord God has given me a well-trained tongue, that I might know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them. Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; and I have not rebelled, I have not turned back.

What joy to be Isaiah, leaning down to watch the street in Jerusalem from his vantage point in heaven? Or Jeremiah, or any one of the other prophets. Priests and kings have had their day, but this is the day of the prophet, and Jesus rides his donkey over the palm leaves and beckons the prophets to their front row seats.

The very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. They kept crying out and saying, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” Who is this, others asked? “This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.”

In many parishes today we will listen to the long story Matthew tells of Jesus all this week. And near the end of the story, “Here all kneel and pause for a short time.” Jesus has given up the ghost.

The story includes most of the usual suspects: Judas Iscariot, Peter, Caiaphas, Pilate, Barabbas, Simon of Cyrene, the two thieves, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jesus, and Joseph of Arimathea. Other than John, the disciples seem to have fled the scene. But Jesus and his passion will have all the spotlights this week, and hearing the story today sets us just enough on edge to hear it again, piece by piece, for the rest of the week.

The Lord God is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame.

Anne Lamott, who learned to pray because she couldn’t not pray, might be talking of Jesus and his prayers this week:

Prayer … begins with stopping in our tracks, or with our backs against the wall, or when we are going under the waves, or when we are just so sick and tired of being physically sick and tired that we surrender, or at least we finally stop running away and at long last walk or lurch or crawl toward something. Or maybe, miraculously, we just release our grip slightly.  

Prayer is talking to something or anything with which we seek union, even if we are bitter or insane or broken. (In fact, these are probably the best possible conditions under which to pray.) Prayer is taking a chance that against all odds and past history, we are loved and chosen, and do not have to get it together before we show up. The opposite may be true: We may not be able to get it together until after we show up in such miserable shape….  

Jesus was exhausted, Jesus was discouraged, Jesus was angry. At God. Jesus was afraid.

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? They mock me with parted lips, many dogs surround me. They have pierced my hands and feet; I can count all my bones.

So this week I must tell the truth about what happening between me and God. As Jesus told the truth. As on her worst day, Anne Lamott tries to tell the truth.

My belief is that when you’re telling the truth, you’re close to God. If you say to God, “I am exhausted and depressed beyond words, and I don’t like You at all right now, and I recoil from most people who believe in You,” that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said. If you told me you had said to God, “It is all hopeless, and I don’t have a clue if You exist, but I could use a hand,” it would almost bring tears to my eyes, tears of pride in you, for the courage it takes to get real—really real. It would make me want to sit next to you at the dinner table.  

In just a few days we too will be sitting at dinner, reclining with Jesus, with his disciples, listening to his love pour out through words and the washing of our feet. God’s love for us pours in and overflows, and we are undone.

(Matthew 21, Isaiah 50, Psalm 22, Philippians 2, Matthew 26-27)

 (posted at www.davesandel.net)

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