Shudder? Yes. Fear? No.

A Sermon by Rev. Andrew Colman.

Today is a day that we all know too well. It may only come around in the

church calendar once a year, but it's probably safe to say that what we

are taken through in these readings is an experience we have on a

somewhat regular basis.

The day starts with the sunrise, and even if you didn't get the best of

sleep or maybe even any the night before, there is usually something

about a sunrise that holds some hope.

     The darkness of the night is being driven back. The places of

hiding, the shadows, are disappearing.

     The Sun itself brings a sense of energy, a sense of resolve and

passes it on to us to take into the new day.

On the good days it can feel like the day is yours, the world is your

oyster.

     The problems of yesterday very well might be solved today. Finally,

getting that job you've been looking for. Or getting out of the job that

draining you. The missing piece of your paper or, research or project

will discover itself to you as you dutifully search. That hard

conversation you know you needs to happen, for a moment, doesn't seem so

hard. In fact, that pathway forward seems as clear as the rising sun.

         The King is Coming, Hosanna!

         The Oppression of the night is waning. Hosanna

         The answer to our prayers has arrived, Hosanna!

         The Son is here, Hosanna!

         Lay the palms upon the path, Hosanna!

         Hosanna in the highest! It's gonna be a good day!

             And you know what? Sometimes, all of that comes true!

Sometimes, we have good days!

     And then there are the days when things don't turn out the way you

thought. There are days that end in full-on betrayal.

And so we find ourselves in Palm Sunday and the liturgy of the Passion.

I actually think this is one of the moments where we meet the most Human

side of Jesus.

     In our reading tonight, as Jesus is praying in the garden, we heard

that he was distressed and agitated. But those words don't do the force

of Greek justice. Fleming Rutledge, in her book The Crucifixion, puts it

like this:

         " Mark's Gospel, unflinching as usual, presents it in its

baldest form. The word Mark uses [Ek-tham-bay-s-th-eye] to describe

Jesus' emotions is extremely strong. It is softened by Matthew and

omitted in Luke...

             She quotes Raymond Brown describing it as "greatly

distraught a profound disarray, expressed physically before a terrifying

event: a shuddering horror.”

     Jesus shudders with horror, so much so that he asks that this cup

be taken from him. That he not be the one to go to die on the cross.

But he does not succumb to fear. He has turned to God in prayer.

  How many times in the Bible do we hear, do not fear, do not be afraid?

What is really being said is do not run. Stay. Hear what God has in

store for you. What you see ahead of you might look frightening… horrific.

             But do not fear. Stay. Listen to what God has in store.

             God will see you through this.

                 In Jesus' full humanity, he prayed for what every

person on this planet has prayed for at some point or another.

That they would not have to go through the hard thing.

And in Jesus’ full humanity, through the power of the Spirit of God,

which fills all of us here, he did not run. He stayed. He did not fear

because he knew that His Abba/Father in heaven would carry him through.

         You see, apparently, shuddering in horror and fear are

different things. The Greek word for fear, the fear that all those

angels tell us not to have, is phebo, like phobia. There is no hint of

that in the Garden of Gethsemane.

             Shuddering horror? Yes. But, Fear? No.

That's why we needn't shy away from singing the final song tonight

     Lord, I abandoned You in the garden, sold You for silver, left You

forsaken in Your hour of need

         Worthy of our great distress? - yes

     Lord, I denied You mocked and despised You cried "crucify him,”

left You forsaken in Your hour of need.

         Worthy of our profound disarray? - yes

     I crucified you; I crucified you.

         Worthy of our fear of opting out of conversation and our

relationship with God- No.

Lord, Jesus said from the cross, forgive them. They know not what they do.

So, If claiming to be part of the crowd that crucified our Lord is not

worthy of fear. Not worthy of any gap between us and God - by God's own

choice, by God's own doing, then nothing is.

     With God, there is nothing we cannot come back from, though worldly

consequences may be devastating.

With God, nothing has happened to us that can keep us from God.

With God, we can walk through the gates of hell without fear, see it and

feel the horror within; I mean, I would hope so

When we see and feel it, we can see and feel the truth and depth of the

brokenness of the world in which we live.

God forbid that we see the images of the devastation in Ukraine, the

Horror caused in Gaza, the chaos in Haiti and not shudder.

God forbid we see people huddled in corners of buildings to shelter from

the piercing wind and not shudder in horror.

God forbid that we see our polarized society where, even within

families, you can't talk to each other without shutting down and not

shudder.

But fear? No. God forbid the fear sends us running and makes us numb.

—

There is a scene in the TV show The Wire, where the neighbourhood pastor

walks through a semi-legalized open-air drug market in West Baltimore,

and he is witness to a kind of depravity that he names as Hell.

     He then fights to get all the social services that that community

needs into that space. Instead of fear for self while walking through

hell or disconnecting from God because of the depravity, he moved

towards it, and he brought the Gospel with him.

         That is work of the Gospel. That is the work that is happening

at El Shaddai in Haiti, at the Clinics of the Princess Basma Centre in

Gaza (you can read about that in The Anglican News at the back) through

the Main Street Project in Winnipeg.

             But it's also the work that happens on smaller scales in

our own lives. When we get out of the house on days that we feel like we

can't. When we reach out to talk because we know there is light to be

found despite the shadows that surround…

Tonight, we will leave without a dismissal; in fact, we will leave all

of the services this week without a dismissal. Holy Week is one long

service in which we go through the story of the Last Supper all the way

to Christ’s death on the cross.

Each service takes us further into the betrayal and darkness, where we

will find ourselves crying, “Crucify him, crucify him!” If you can, try

to engage with this story throughout the week. We’ll be live streaming

our Good Friday service at 4 p.m.

Because when we walk this path into the darkness with Christ, we see it

and feel it - so that when we come up against it in our own lives, we

know it for what it is. It’s a time of darkness, but also that the sun

will rise, the darkness will be driven back and nothing can keep us from

the Love of God, not our fear, not our betrayals, not even death on a cross.