Palm Sunday Year C

Our Lenten program here at St. John’s this year has enriched my own faith, as we have been reading and discussing the writings of Julian of Norwich, the 14th century woman who describes the visions of what God showed her, known as “Showings.”  I had heard some of Julian’s most famous quotes, but I didn’t know much more about her writings when we began.  I found her writings particularly appropriate for Lent.  And I find them especially helpful today on Palm Sunday.  It is not an easy day to be in church, as we move from the shouts of “hosanna” to the shouts of “crucify him”.  It is tough to witness this much cruelty and this much pain.  It is tough to deal with the sense of wrongness in it, that someone so loving and so innocent would suffer for our sake. 

Julian has the courage to be willing, in these showings, to see up close the suffering of Christ: the physical pain, the emotional pain, the spiritual pain.  She describes in vivid detail what she sees of Christ’s suffering all three forms of pain.  She is deeply affected by them.  She feels and describes the enormity of the pain she is shown.  And yet the strongest message that comes through in the Showings she receives from God is the message that with all the enormity of the pain, the love is even more enormous. 

She writes, “I saw my Lord Jesus languishing for long, because of the union in him of man and God, for love gave strength to his humanity to suffer more than all men could.  I mean not only more pain than any other one man could suffer, but also that he suffered more pain than would all men together, from the first beginning to the last day….But the love which made him suffer all this surpasses all his pains as far as heaven is above earth” (144).  She then sees Jesus change to an appearance of joy, and he asks her, “Are you well satisfied that that I suffered for you?”  When she responds with a grateful yes, he tells her, “It is a joy and a bliss and an endless delight to me that ever I suffered my Passion for you, for if I could suffer more, I would” (144). Julian goes on to say, “By ‘joy’ I understood that the Father was pleased, by ‘bliss’ that the Son was honoured, and by ‘endless delight’ the Holy Spirit.” 

I find this a helpful way to approach the crucifixion, because it takes seriously the pain of the crucifixion in all its forms, without trying to skip over it or minimize it.  And at the same time, it is so firmly rooted in the love of God, which surpasses even the worst pain imaginable, and does so even joyfully.  I also really appreciate the way that we are looking at the crucifixion not by picturing one person of the Trinity inflicting pain on another, but by seeing all three persons of the Trinity united in loving each of us joyfully.  She adds, “For Jesus has great joy in all the deeds which he has done for our salvation, and therefore we are his, not only through our redemption, but also by his Father’s courteous gift.”

I also find Julian’s showings helpful in another difficult aspect of Palm Sunday.  We prefer to think of sin as something other people do, and we like to think of ourselves as good people who don’t commit sins the way our neighbours and our enemies do.  Especially this year, as we read Luke’s gospel and the congregation takes the part of the assembly, we want to think that we are such very nice people that we could never commit the sins other people commit in this passion gospel.  Ironically, today’s readings show us Peter, who is thinking exactly that way about himself, and who insists, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!”  Jesus replies, “I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you have denied three times that you know me.”  And sure enough, while he is still speaking his third denial, the cock crows.  The Lord turns and looks at Peter.  He remembers.  He goes out, and weeps bitterly.

That is the cost of trying to deny that we are as susceptible to sin as the next person. Peter’s sin doesn’t go away; it sneaks up on him, and when it is too late he is overcome by regret, both his regret for the sin itself, and his regret for the arrogance that made him think he was so much better than everyone else. 

God shows Julian a different approach to sin.  God shows her Jesus as a mother, who gives birth to us and who breastfeeds us from her own body.  Julian writes, “Often when our falling and wretchedness are shown to us, we are so…greatly ashamed of ourselves that we scarcely know where can put ourselves.  But then our courteous Mother does not wish us to flee away, for nothing would be less pleasing to him; but he then wants us to behave like a child.  For when it is distressed and frightened, it runs quickly to its mother; and if it can do no more, it calls to the mother for help with all its might.  So he wants us [to cry out]: my kind Mother, my gracious Mother, my beloved Mother, have mercy on me.  I have made myself filthy and unlike you, and I may not and cannot make right except with your help and grace...for the flood of mercy which is his dear blood and precious water is plentiful to make us fair and clean...It is his office to save us, it is his glory to do it, and it is his will that we know it; for he wants us to love him sweetly and trust in him meekly and greatly” (301, 302).

Jesus is always thrilled for us to return to him in confession, and no matter what sin we have committed, it is Jesus’ delight to embrace us and forgive us.  With all the enormity of human sin, God’s love and grace is even more enormous. 

In these showings, the message Julian gets from God repeatedly is: “See how much I love you!”  Even today, as we look at some of the toughest parts of our faith, the pain of God and the sin of humanity, the good news of the gospel is that Christ continues to say to us, “See how much I love you!”