From the First Baptist pulpit
Palm Sunday
April 9, 2006
“Disillusioned by our Illusions”
Luke 23:26-32
Dr. Dan Ivins, preaching

“The vegetables were fine, but the meat was hard,” said a person raised on a farm. The “meat was hard” because she kept choking on her attachment to the animals. Once when it was time to take her pet calf to the slaughterhouse, the poor thing got so scared that her father asked someone else to drive, so he could ride with it in the back of the truck. By the time they arrived, he was in tears ... because the calf licked his arm the whole way. Tears are the silent language of grief.

But our text is one dramatic moment when their appeal found no response. Instead it backfired. Only Luke tells the story of the weeping women of Jerusalem, who received the only divine prohibition in the passion narrative. The singular restraint of Holy Week. Every outrageous act perpetrated upon him; the denial, the betrayal, the accusations of the religious, the mock trial, the politics of self-interest, the humiliation by the soldiers. All that ... and not a word of protest!

Except one. As Jesus plods along the Via Dolorosa, his cross carried by a kind man, he comes across these mourners. Instead of their sympathetic gesture bringing out the best in the Man, the daughters of Zion had an adverse effect. Because right in the middle of the procession to the cross, Jesus vetoes their tears: “Don’t weep for me!”

Surely the feminine response was a respite from the macho mockery. Why refuse tenderness when its needed? Or increase the anguish of those already sorrowful, by saying they had better things to weep about? Perhaps its because they’re misdirected. Tears for the crucified are much too shallow. So “don’t weep for me!”

One of the things that ought to happen when we worship is to be dis-illusioned; to have our illusions give way to reality. When that happens, it’s a spiritual victory. Because one of the greatest sins of church people is self-deception; clutching tightly to our delusions. Holding on longer than we should. Its easier than facing the pain.

John Nash was interviewed on 60 minutes, whose story was told in the film “A Beautiful Mind,” starring Russell Crowe. The interviewer asked how he rose above schizophrenia, and living in a fantasy world. “When I got tired of being disillusioned by my illusions.”

Is that not what Jesus meant when he said, “Weep not for me?” He would have no illusions. And he had good reason to rebuke the grief-drops. Because in our Hollywood-culture, feelings are prostituted, reality gets distorted, and tears are wrung from us. We weep to hide the hurt. Jesus prefers the truth. When offered “hyssop,” he rejected the drugs like he refused the tears. We need the bracing realism of Jesus, who warned the town-criers: “I don't want your tears!” Because God wants something more substantial. Like a change of direction in our wills. And that doesn’t come by standing on the sidelines, shedding a few tears. Jesus wants our involvement. So he allowed Simon to carry his cross. But he banned the weeping. When you read the death-march story -- station after station -- its understandable why we prefer to be bystanders and weepers than participants. Jesus prohibited them because it's improper. But there is a proper weeping. “Weep for yourselves.” There’s a future in that. Jesus wept only twice in the New Testament. Both were about others.

Turn your eyes to the object of his weeping -- what we do to hurt one another. Weep for that which makes God weep. Weep because we always seem to reverse what God intends for us and his world. We keep finding ways to foul the cup; profane the holy; and crucify God's Anointed. Yeah, we're mean enough -- there's plenty to properly weep about. Weep for those who would replace our democracy with theocracy. Weep that he wouldn’t save himself and we can't redeem ourselves. Weep because the church that claims Jesus' name, is more comfortable with judgment than grace; getting even than getting through.
Weep for politicians whose pride prohibits progress. The Israelis and the Arabs? For those in New Orleans? Somebody better weep for them! “But don’t be wasting any tears on Jesus. Ya’ll better weep for yourselves and your children.” Weep over that calf on the way to the slaughterhouse! Weep over what Jesus wept about. That’s proper weeping.

Weep over the self-deceived people of Jerusalem; the religious community that kills those who bring mercy instead of retribution, its a far greater cause for weeping. When they wail “This shouldn’t be happening to a man like this!” Jesus quotes a proverb: “If they do this when the wood is green, what happens when it’s dry?” If tragedy can happen when things are going well, imagine the holocaust when Jerusalem is a tinder-box!

Proper weeping knows the frustration of the helplessness to help. Weep for that which made it worthwhile for him to die. Otherwise we’re no better than the sobbing sisters on the Via Dolorosa. Weep over a village we cannot re-take. Jerusalem “Didn’t know the things that make for peace.” She still knows the things that make for war. We’ve taught ‘em well. And we see where that got ‘em!

Jerusalem has always known how to “protect its interests.” But Jerusalem isn’t interested in knowing Jesus. Weep that we still believe war and violence is the way to settle disputes. That’s something to weep about! “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, How I would gather you in ... like a mother hen does her chicks, but you would not.” Doesn't say they could not. Just that they would not. Some places and situations are so far gone, all you can do is be sad about it.

But weeping gets you nowhere. Unless it’s for the things that made his dying worth the trouble. Jesus, won’t allow himself to be pitied as a “substitutionary victim,” who would -- if given a chance -- escape from his destiny. There will be no illusions. He drank the cup in Gethsemane. “Thy will be done.” He refused to call “10,000 angels.” He said “Nobody takes my life from me.”

Nothing is more out of place than fake-tears for one like that. He’d seen enough of people trying to follow him for the wrong reasons. God knows it harms more than it helps. Its easier to be emotional than involved, because that’s when we fall for a 1/2-way-stopping-point on the way to authenticity. But death never yet destroyed anything genuine.

“Weep not for me. Weep for yourselves” is not only a rejection of empathy. It’s a call for repentance. From the arrogance that makes us think God’s kingdom rests on our shoulders. It’s a call to repent of our need to be in-charge. Repent of the delusion that “knowledge of good and evil,” and respectability blinds us to the fact that we have nothing in our lives to repent of.

Weep for your bigotry; your prejudices; your self-righteousness; for the fear and lust for power. Now we’re onto something! Tears don’t mean a thing, unless we back ‘em up with action. Weep because too many people think they can remove the suffering of others ... without entering into it. Weep for that!
Jesus’ message was incredibly simple, unbelievably beautiful. And as easy to translate into action as it is for “a camel to pass through they eye of a needle!” In the story of the “Good Samaritan,” those on the Jericho Road were held responsible, because they loved the rules more than a person. They brought judgment upon themselves because they couldn’t recognize God in a foreigner, with the wrong faith, who did the right thing. While the 2 men with the right faith ...flunked. Weep because that still happens.

Then these enigmatic words. “The days are coming when they will say, `Happy are the barren, who never bore a child, or nursed one.' Then they’ll be talking to the mountains, `Fall on us!' `Cover us!'” “Live by the sword. You’ll die by it.”

A childless marriage in those days was a curse. But when Jesus “climbed the hill of Calvary,” he envisioned a time when a woman without a child would be fortunate! And if this happens when the nation is thriving, what’ll happen when it’s national delusions bring it down? 30 years later Rome crushed the holy city! And those who were left, fled to the Dead Sea. And climbed up Masada to commit mass suicide, rather than submit to the yoke of Roman slavery.

Jesus knows what he’s talking about! Don’t weep for him. Follow him! Weeping has more going for it because at least it looks good. The daughters of Jerusalem had to learn, as we all do, that deciding what to do about Jesus is crucial for this life and the next.

James Russell Lowell wrote a poem-turned-to-song called, “Once to Every Man and Nation.” To each of us a moment of decision comes in relation to the Christ. “By the light of burning martyrs, Christ, thy bleeding feet we track. Toiling up new Calvary’s ever, with the cross that turns not back.” Once -- to every man or woman; every nation!

Jesus is the tears God shed -- to water the soil of this world with abundant life. “Weep not for me!” was all he could say. A final lesson, leaving open the only way out: the hope that they’d wake up from their delusions and see what they were doing. They didn’t. And by the time they hung him on a tree, he was out of options. But he would have no illusions about it. He dis-illusioned them and absolved them -- but passed up the chance to blame them. In order to “forgive them ... for they know not what they do.”

Sometimes the worst evil is done by good people, who don’t know they’re not good. The softer side of Calvary. Jesus was just “licking their arms ... all the way to the slaughterhouse!”

PRAYER: The trouble with being born Lord, is we have to live...someplace and some way. We’re here because we believe following Jesus is the way to live.

Because your glory has shone in his face as in no other, whose nature is made known in the mystery of his passion; number us we pray, among his faithful followers in this Palm Sunday worship.

We give thanks to thee O Christ, for conquering our tears by your crying, our sins by your suffering, our death by your rising. As Simon carries your cross and notice the weeping women on the way to the cross. May they show us the truth about ourselves.

Like the Sons of Thunder, who promised to follow you, so do we. But only if there’s something in it for us. Or Simon Peter who hailed you as the Christ, but couldn’t accept a Suffering Servant. We have some Pilate in us, whose better instincts told him to take the advice of his wife, “Have nothing to do with that righteous man!”

But nobody has the middle-ground luxury when it comes to Jesus. Pilate found fault with him, because there was none. But he left him at the mercy of those who did.

Today we’re on the road of sorrows, so remind us that there’s a lot in our lives to be sorry about. Our mean-spiritedness, our grief, things we did we wish we hadn’t, our hopes and dreams that didn’t turn out, events beyond our control. And too many that are. May the lesson of this day and Jesus’ ordeal not be lost on us.

Thank you Jesus, for taking time on the way to die, to warn us of what is so hard to understand -- Christ’s passion, and mercy beyond reason. On this fateful day -- so important to our faith, Lord, help us to be faithful people. As Christ was faithful to God in death. So grant us the grace to be faithful to you in life.
And may this church continue to be a beacon of hope for all who enter these doors. Be with us in a powerful way this week as we lift up Christ, so he will draw all people unto himself.

May our faith, hope and charity turn hatred into love, conflict into peace, and death to eternal life. In Jesus’ name. Amen.