PALM SUNDAY

March 16, 2008

Deacon Carl Knapp

He always looked disheveled. His parents always made sure that he was dressed for school. But within an hour his shirt was pulled out of his trousers. His fly was usually partly open. He looked a mess. Of course, that strange looping way of walking made everything look worse. The other kids at Roxborough H.S. taunted him, made fun of him. His life was miserable.

It wasn’t that the kids were mean. The students at Roxborough then were very nice teenagers. But he was different: so very different. He was always out of step with everything that was going on. When they jeered and laughed at him; he smiled. Sometimes he waved; but he said little. He was the only student allowed to use the front marble steps. Actually that was only so he would not fall down the steps everyone else used. He went up and down those steps by sitting on his bottom; and using the uprights of the railing; he pulled himself up one step at a time; or he used the uprights to slide down one step at a time. This incredibly slow production was always good for a crowd to gather and offer comments. Most of the remarks were cruel. They were made to bring laughter from the crowd. But Gary rarely said anything. His concentration was on getting his body – damaged by Cerebral Palsy – up, or down, those steps. The kids were not malicious. But their remarks were painful: terribly hurting. The remarks grew out of that fear of the unknown, the different, the unusual. A fear that is so typical of the teenage years.

But his silence was viewed as weakness and things grew worse. There are always a few who think that by demeaning others their own social position will be enhanced. In any high school the lunchroom is a tinderbox waiting for any excitement. For several days plates of spaghetti were poured over his head. With strands of spaghetti on his hair and ears; and streams of red tomato sauce running down his face and clothing; he was jeered. He was taunted. He was mocked.

And he said nothing.

Bob Bunch, history teacher and a Lt. Colonel in the Army Reserve, arranged for Gary to stay in the discipline room. His lunch was brought to him and, all alone, he ate his lunch.

All of us, teachers and students, shared in the shame. We all share in the guilt – the sin - of things done and things left undone. Within each of us is that same desire to elevate ourselves at the expense of others. We seek to be wanted and accepted by the ‘in group’ even when it means that acceptance requires hurting someone else. Even hurting a fellow human caught in a body that did not work right and will never work right.

Within us is that same potential to scorn, to insult, and to mock. That is why we all share in the reading of the Gospel on this day and on Good Friday. For each of us has the ability, and the inclination to be there in Jerusalem and join in the taunting, the insults and the mocking.

The soldiers in the praetorian mocked the Lord of Life. The crowds in the streets heaped scorn and derision upon him. At Golgatha the leaders taunted Jesus as he was elevated to his death. Mathew relates that: ‘The bandits who were crucified with Jesus also taunted him in the same way.’

Why didn’t he defend himself when Pilate questioned him? Why didn’t he stop the soldiers from spitting on him and decking him out with phony royal garments? Why didn’t Jesus respond to the crowds who scorned him. Why didn’t he say something – anything – to the religious leaders taunting him with challenges to come down from the cross? Why did he even tolerate the insults of the robbers who were crucified with him? Even Satan had reminded Jesus that the angels of God would protect him. ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ This was the time for a miracle. One blazing, incredible, knock them out of their socks miracle.

It would have been so simple, so easy, and so very human. So, why didn’t he say something?

Perhaps the crowds in Jerusalem and at the High School looked for greatness in political or military power: perhaps in athletic achievement. Certainly they wanted to see social acceptance and not looking and walking strangely.

Jesus’ humiliation and mockery was part of the fulfilling of the will of God. The Passion we have just read is the great action of God reaching out to redeem us from ourselves. It is the revelation of Jesus as the Innocent One, the Suffering Servant of God. It is the revelation of Jesus as the Son of God, who was crucified as part of Yahweh’s plan of salvation. Paul reminds us that Jesus “humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.” [Phil. 2:8] Here is God’s plan for you . . .for me . . .for the world. Jesus willingly, steadfastly chose the shame and the mocking and the cross.

In the First Lesson from the Prophet Isaiah we hear from the Servant. “I did not hide my face from insult and spitting….I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame.”

The shame was not that of Jesus, the Suffering Servant of God. The shame was not that of Gary. My friends, the shame is ours: yours and mine. Our taunting, our selfishness, our guilt, our shame is the very reason for the cross. We look for greatness and acceptance in accomplishments, athletic wonders, and intellectual insights. We do not seek it in the twisted body of a young boy; nor in a body broken on a cross. Too often we seek God in power and majesty; but through the reading of the Passion today, we find God in sacrificial love.

The wonderful message of the Passion story is that in Christ our shame has become glory. The shamed one has become the Exalted One for you . . . for me . . . and for the world !

Why didn’t he say something?

Because he loves me; because he loves you. His love is far beyond anything we can ask or think.

Because of his accepting death, there is resurrection.

Grace is offered.

Forgiveness is given.

Shame is removed.

Guilt is pardoned.

Hope is promised.

Why didn’t he say something?

Because, truly, this was the Son of God.