We had quite the Palm Sunday service this morning. This week defines the character of Easter People, or Christianity. Of all the events in history, this is THE disruptive event. We had no traditional sermon today, just a disruptive service in honor of the event. Therefore, you will find posted this week only a reflection on today's service.
A
Reflection on Holy Week 2017
I
decided to abandon the traditional processional waving palm fronds and singing All Glory Laud and Honor, though it is a beautiful hymn (We did use palm fronds and a hymn). Rather we adopted some liturgies from the Book of Common
Worship such as the Confession for Palm Sunday that is more like Prayers of the People, and the Solemn Reproaches of the Cross for the
prayer of the people, that is more like a Prayer of Confession. (I said I was trying to
be a little disruptive.)
The congregation heard that we were going to have a full service that might run long
because the reading was lengthy. We had several elements involving young people.
At the beginning of Lent, our children “lost” their Alleluias waiting for today
to “find” them. This required that they search the sanctuary for them as I relocated the
package to a new hideaway after a couple of ingenious young persons had
retrieved them and put them in a place they knew.
Furthermore, last week we had
given out hollow metal Easter eggs with a package of candy and a bible verse(s)
to memorize. If the young person returns memorizing them, they get a simple prize (and
later another memory verse). In addition, I intended to talk about the seasonal
liturgical colors but decided we hadn’t the time today.
Oh - I
might add we had 15 children between 15 months and 13 years old, and 14 adults.
I’m not bragging (though blessed), but sharing my awe that a community this
size sent as many children to the Palm Sunday service as adults left the congregation
in dissention over polity 2½ years ago.
As I
stood before the congregation while two of our young persons passed the
offering plates, I realized I was surrounded by so many children. I looked down
at the floor and there was a young boy reclining on the carpet at my
feet coloring a picture of Jesus in a coloring book. Though the features of
Jesus were distinctly Caucasian, my precious young man of African heritage was
coloring him brown. Then as we began the doxology, his sibling came up and sat
down beside him with her coloring book.
Of
course, three of the other slightly older boys caused their own minor
disruption as I read the passion narratives (Luke 19:29-42 and Matthew
26:14 - 27:66). (You cannot preach these texts any better than to read them
dramatically. The best I could do is add an explanation that in the
intervening three days between the events of these two texts, Jesus told
parables obviously highly critical of the caretakers of Jerusalem that finalized the resolve to arrest and kill Jesus. I always have great difficulty
getting through the Matthew text without my voice cracking.)
Anyway, during
the heightening drama as Jesus stands before Pilate, these boys decided to go
to the restroom. To do that, they had to walk noisily up to the front of the
church to get to the stairs. Then two more young persons followed. (Any time two or more middle schoolers get together, there is a good chance for an adventurous worship.)
After a while
one of the mothers got up and went after them. The boys came back again in
another a minor disruption with
quite sheepish, guilty looks on their faces. I
I’m sure after
the service I heard one of the dad’s threatening to make them uncomfortable sitting
down if they did it again. Likely that was on top of the tongue-lashing they
got from the mom. I told the boys not to worry, the next time they had better go
before the service starts because they will be sitting up in the chairs on
each side of the pulpit if they try to leave. I know they can hold it for an
hour.
I would not have
it any other way, a baby crying, another baby sleeping in the pew, middle-schoolers learning appropriate behavior
for a setting, preteens excited over mastering a bible verse or two, the young people who were hanging on to every word of the reading –
bring it on. God is good. All the time.
The young people
are building their own stories and shaping ours. I can’t get out of my
mind the young boy and his coloring book at my feet. If you know me, you know the last line of a hymn based on Psalm 23 that Isaac Watts
penned, “My
Shepherd Will Supply My Need” was bouncing in my head. The last stanza goes this way, “The sure
provisions of my God Attend me all my days; O may your house be my abode, and
all my work be praise. There I would find a settled rest, while others go and
come; No more a stranger, or a guest, But like a child at home.” To Carson Brisson my Hebrew professor at Union Presbyterian Seminary, yes, there is a Home.
Today, I find comfort and hope for the future of the American Church in these 15 young people.
Amen
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