Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
Isaiah 50:4-7
Philippians 2:6-11
Matthew 26:14-27:66

Before we die ourselves, most of us will have to keep a “death watch.” Someone we love will be dying. We will know his or her pain and even though we cannot share the physical part of it, we will feel the anguish and frustration. Some will be able to voice their feelings and others will not. Some will draw close to the one who is dying and some will shy away.

Today’s Gospel is the story of Jesus’ passion and death—a tale of those who kept the death watch during the Lord’s suffering. It is a story repeated in countless hospitals and at the bedsides of the very young and the very old. It is the story of how people react when those they love or should have loved are wrenched from them. Their grief is set in the context of the unique relationship they have had with the person who is suffering. Matthew’s account catches these different reactions in a special way that enables each of us to see ourselves.

Consider Peter. At first he is ready to die with the Lord. Then he retreats to a distance and denies even knowing Jesus. Finally, he weeps bitterly.

Or, think of the thief crucified with Jesus. Was he less changed by Jesus’ suffering than those who knew the Lord longer? What about Mary? What of the women who wept or the soldiers who, after it was all over, found Jesus’ garments in their hands?

The story tells about immediate reactions; but it takes time to live with death. No matter how strongly we believe in the resurrection, we still have the pain of emptiness. The palms that were waved in celebration are no more comfort than the flowers we might place on the coffin of someone we love. We are held together by hope and we are comforted by one another.

Like Jesus’ first followers, our first instinct might be to withdraw—to hide in a remote room. Instead, we gather and tell stories about our relationship with the person we think we have lost. We tell one another we will be together again. At moments like these, I think we have our greatest opportunity to be the Church.

At this Eucharist, we remember the meaning the Church has had for us in times of sorrow and we recall the faith we share. We know the presence of the Lord in our midst as we tell our stories of faith and look forward to the resurrection.

We pray for those who are suffering and dying. We pray for those who are sharing this agony with them. We move to the altar confident that the Risen Lord who is ever in the midst of the Church intends that our believing presence will permeate the grieving community in every liturgical season.