The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday | By the Rev. Warren Thomas Swenson

Romans 2:5-11 | Luke 22:14-23:56

We don’t get much time to focus with glad hearts on welcoming the Messiah to town before we are drawn into the story of his passion and death. By turning our attention to Jesus’ death, but stopping short of his resurrection, we are reminded that all life—even Jesus’ life—includes suffering.

We do not ordinarily come to church to focus on suffering, but it’s important to acknowledge it, especially this day and this week, because suffering is very, very real–for Jesus, and for each of us.

We are all well acquainted with suffering. That’s part of being human. Punches to the gut. Certainly figurative. Sometimes literal. Not all suffering is whiplash and broken bones, of course. Our lives include the pains of loss, of failure, of disillusionment, of rejection.

The holiest week of the Christian year turns our attention to events that lead us abruptly from celebration to suffering because life is like that sometimes. And today’s events remind us of the extent to which God goes to identify with us in this life.

Back at Christmas we heard, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Well, when the Word did that, the Word signed up for some suffering. I’m not saying state-sanctioned execution was a forgone conclusion. But at least some gravel in the shoe. A cut finger. Sorrow at the death of a friend.

As we meet Jesus walking toward the cross, we realize all over again that the consequences of Jesus’ humanity were far more tragic.

Years later as Paul reflects on what transpired here writes,

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

“And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

God became human in order to show us just how much humanity matters to God. How much? Enough to sign up for a life full of hurting feet, hot weather, achy joints, and several bad nights of sleep. Yes, that much.

But more than that much: Enough to endure public torture and death at the hands of an empire unwilling to recognize the false nature of the accusations against him.

We matter that much to God.

In the knowledge of Jesus’ excruciating last hours, we might find some paradoxical comfort. Not because we derive pleasure from seeing others suffer, but because we all experience suffering, and the image of Jesus on the cross reminds us that God identifies with us in our suffering. Even the worst kinds of suffering.

The image of Jesus on the cross teaches us that whenever we suffer, we are united with God. It is the ultimate in divine solidarity.

That does not mean that we ought to go around looking for ways to suffer. Nor does it mean that we ought to thank God for seasons of suffering in our lives. I’m not saying that God purposefully inflicts suffering upon us for our benefit.

I’m saying that God recognizes that we do suffer, and, on the cross, he not only shares in that suffering, but redeems it for our salvation. He does it by showing us, in no uncertain terms, that when times of trial inevitably come, we are not alone. God is with us.

This is our Lord’s greatest miracle, is it not? A love so compassionate, so completely selfless, that it chooses to share even in the worst burdens of human existence. Even an excruciating death.

Some Christians seem to think that the proper response to Jesus’ death is guilt. That doesn’t seem quite right to me.

What is the proper response to Jesus’ death? Well, Paul gives the Philippians something to shoot for. We hear it, too. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”

Think of yourself the way Jesus thought of himself.

You say, “I can’t do that. I’m not God!”

No, you’re not.

But you are human. And so was Jesus.

Be humbled by your humanity. Acknowledge that you suffer, but remember that God is with you when you do.

If you can do that. If you can be honest about the struggles you face even as you trust that God is with you in the midst of those struggles, then here is what will happen: you will develop compassion.

You will be able to meet others in their suffering, their moments of pain and sorrow.

If you can do that. If you can meet others–even at the bottom of the barrel–then you will begin to recognize what Jesus has known all along: we are all worth loving.

I know we’re not going to find ourselves equal in compassion to Jesus’. But if we take him as our example, then our fear of each other might start to subside. Our skepticism of each other might begin to abate. The barriers that we have erected between ourselves might begin to crumble. Because we will have seen that which only God’s grace makes it possible for us to see: those little bits of the divine image–in each other and in ourselves.