Blogging through Holy Week

I am going to try and blog every day through Holy Week. I've had a really good day today - a fabulous time at Battle, a Songs of Praise at Calvert and a lovely ecumenical service with my colleague Peggy at Trinity in Broad Oak. Some days I wish I could just prepare and lead worship - I love leading worship and being creative the best of all my duties. 

What do we make of Palm Sunday?

It’s no wonder in a few days Jesus is crucified as a criminal, a rabble rouser, a rebel political and theological. On Palm Sunday faith becomes public and it becomes political.

In Palm Sunday in Jerusalem, I see two agendas, the Kingdom and the Kingdom of Rome and a crowd, some welcome Jesus, perhaps some followers and admirers were there, others would have stood and laughed, others feared some sort of riot, others hoped this would be the day God was coming anew, one large, messy, boiling pot of emotions, which when they clashed would surely bring trouble.  

Crowds can be fun – they can be invigorating – like at the 02. I saw Whitney Houston at the 02, thousands of people singing her songs, it was one of the greatest nights of my life, until I went back for something better – Kylie – again, an amazing atmosphere. How do I know every Kylie song by heart? I am back at the 02 on the 4^th April for Adele – I can’t wait. Being in a big crowd united in being together to enjoy something. Football crowds can be the same – those Leicester City fans at Crystal Palace yesterday singing “we will not be moved” as they are five points clear at the top of the league. A year ago, only hardened supporters weren’t critical in the crowd when they were bottom. 

More seriously a crowd can be intimidating. Imagine being at a Trump rally – “we’re going to build that wall” and the crowd whoop loudly and those who disagree are removed. A crowd can support something, turn quickly or it can be a braying mob intent on destroying anything different offered to it.  

    

This is the day the church comes out of the closet, enters the city, and meets the crowd and the other ways of the world. This is the day the church distances itself from the state and from all worldly power. 

This is the day we enter Jerusalem. To show the world what God looks like, to show the world what love looks like, to show the world what it looks like to love your enemies, not only your enemies, but the immigrant and the alien, the stranger, and the other. 

In a manifestly violent world, it is now our turn to show the world, to show our friends, our families, our neighbours, what it looks like to follow the Prince of Peace, to turn the other cheek. To show the world what God looks like. 

It won't be easy. It will be costly. But it is the way of the cross. It’s easy to cheer today, it’s easy to do flowers next Sunday, it’s easy to miss out the cross. But doesn’t Christianity at its heart enter the world as it is, however hard and present Jesus to it? Have we become insular and scared? We are in good company, apart from a few women, most of his disciples on the road will have fled in fear before long locking themselves away.     

I like what Kathy Galloway writes about Palm Sunday:

“Palm Sunday is always happening, and we are always being confronted by the challenge of that different way of being; the way of peace that does not shrink from conflict but refuses violence, the way that does not theorise but engages with the real needs of suffering people, the way that sees the people who are overlooked and not counted, the way of self-offering.

As we walk with Jesus through Holy Week, let us pray for the courage to face these challenges, following faithfully in his way of compassion and solidarity.”

There are always different ways to be church, inside and comfortable or outside where it might be really challenging. Maybe this is the day the church needs to find its feet and its voice and shows practical allegiance to the Prince of Peace.