Palm Sunday(B): The Mind of Christ

By: The Rev. Jazzy Bostock

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus. . .

On first glance, the imperative seems like the original WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) – exhorting listeners to be as Christ-like as possible. And there is good theology naming each of us as little Christs, with the responsibilities that go along with such a title. But I have to wonder: is it actually possible for the same mind to be in us that was in Christ Jesus? I mean, isn’t that what makes Jesus spectacular, and set apart, and Divine—that his mind was different from each of ours?

Paired with the long gospel for Palm Sunday, the sentiment is particularly challenging. In our gospel, Jesus is anointed, breaks bread with his disciples, prays, is betrayed, tried, stripped, mocked, and crucified. And not once in the trials does Jesus raise a hand or give a harsh word to those who are causing him such pain. He is the picture of non-violence, even to the point of a cruel death.

Can that same mind really be in us, which was in him? And if we can have such a mind, then what about the heart? What about the spirit? How much like Jesus can we be?

I think another way to ask that question might be: how much like us is Jesus? How human is the Son of God, exactly? And, if you’re anything like me, it sort of depends on what day you ask. Sometimes, I feel like Jesus was very human. I think of the Syrophoenician woman, for instance, when Jesus compares her to a dog. A very human moment. I think of some of the times he behaved in ways I find unpalatable—perhaps not radical enough, or conforming too closely to the culture of his day. When I read those passages, I am convinced of Jesus’ humanness. But then there are other times like this gospel reading, where, even in the midst of his own betrayal, he implores his disciples to non-violence, when I am convinced that Jesus is very little like me. When I read stories of his healing, or the miracles he performs, I feel like we have little in common, and he moves from on-the-ground human to pie-in-the-sky Divine.

What I see in myself, as I grapple with the question, is my own flip-flopping. My emotional state controls much of how I see the world. And my emotional state is sometimes swayed by something as simple as a cup of coffee, or a well-placed snack. There’s something about Jesus, in comparison, which feels solid; certain; sure. And how did he get that way?

As I’ve travelled through the last pandemic year, logging on to Facebook most mornings to lead morning prayer for my church, I’ve been reminded of the way that regular prayer works its way into my body. Jesus prays often in our gospels. And yet, because it’s usually just one sentence, it hasn’t always been something I’ve focused on. Prayer is central to his ministry. It bookends almost every miracle he performs and guides his interactions. I am not nearly so solid in my own prayer discipline, though I am learning. Tethering myself to a daily practice—to the rhythm of the apostles creed and the prayers, tedious though they may seem in the moment—gives me a sense of regulation. Though this regulation is far from making me as solid and sure as Jesus seems to be, it certainly tethers some of my more wayward leanings.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, then, might not be about whether we can become Jesus—that is, not about whether we can change our core personalities—rather, it might be about how we pattern and regulate our lives; what we allow to guide and shape us. For Jesus, prayer was the guiding force of his life. Prayer surrounded and infused all he did. In his last moments of life, he prayed from the cross, for himself and others.

I doubt that I can be very much like Jesus, because I doubt my own capacity for forgiveness and love and mercy, all of which Jesus had. I doubt my own motivations, and know my ego gets in the way too much. But perhaps I can be a little bit like Jesus by teaching my wayward heart, again and again, to return to God in prayer. And to keep returning.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus. And let it be molded by prayer.

**The Rev. Jazzy Bostock** is a kanaka maoli woman, serving St. John the Baptist Episcopal Church and Maluhia Lutheran Church in Maili and Makaha, on the West Side of Oahu, Hawaii. She loves to cook, garden, laugh with her wife, and walk barefoot in sunshine.

Palm Sunday (A): Which Jesus Will We Choose?

Palm Sunday (A): Which Jesus Will We Choose?

Matthew 26:14-27:66

By: The Rev. Sean Ekberg

We hear it every year: “The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, according to (insert evangelist here).” Our people know the story quite well; Jesus is presented for charges against the state, judged by the mob, and condemned to die in one of the most brutal fashions: crucifixion. Preaching something ‘new’ or ‘edgy’ on Palm Sunday can be an exercise in frustration. As preachers, we want to say something of merit. We pore over old sermons and read what others have written in hopes that we’ll find something for today’s context. Sometimes we strike out, sometimes we hit home runs; most of the time, we’re doing well just to touch the bases.

But this Palm Sunday offers a unique challenge in concert with current context. This Palm Sunday occurs during an election year.

For the past four years, this nation has seen the rise of nationalism, racism, ageism, misogyny, and many other horrific human constructs to a terrifying degree. Our populace is polarized, giving diatribe the mainstage where dialogue used to reign. The political wound has widened so far as to not only bleed into the faith-based realm, but to hemorrhage into it—a deluge of theological and political conflation. While these two arenas aren’t mutually exclusive (i.e. social justice), in times past we haven’t seen this level of disagreement. I have to wonder if ignoring the “voting” that occurs within Matthew’s account of Jesus’ Passion is tantamount to silencing the nature of Palm Sunday altogether.

Isn’t it striking that the mob, when presented with the option between two people named Jesus—Jesus Barabbas and Jesus the Messiah—choose poorly? This group is so hard-pressed to hang onto previously held truths concerning belief they would rather set a murderer free than turn toward a savior. These people don’t care for change, they only see things as the establishment presents them—the ‘way we’ve always done it.’ Yet, lest we forget, Christ came into the world to challenge the establishment, to throw off the yoke of an oppressive society set against itself. He came to impart change on a world that only cares for those who maintain the status quo; people who live in fear of challenging those in control in order to make way for a better life.

In this moment, we see the “best of times and the worst of times”—the tale of two Jesuses. What does it say to our congregations if we’re unwilling to place our people—and ourselves—in this story? The mob mentality of voting for the person who will change us the least must fade away. Our real goal should be to speak truth, no matter how difficult it becomes. We would do well to remember that ours is a task of proclaiming the gospel by word and deed—something that, due to the decline of church membership nationwide, we can be reticent to do.

Can we ask our congregations whether we have changed so much in two thousand years that we no longer vote along popular lines, but instead vote with conscientious hearts and minds? We may espouse a virtue-based decision-making mindset, but in reality, many of us and many of our people struggle with how to move past espousing actions to actually following through with them. Is the Jesus we vote for nowadays the one who fits us best, or the one who challenges us to be better versions of ourselves? The one who makes us feel warm and fuzzy, or the one who calls us to stand up and speak out against the realities of an increasingly isolationist society? Is he the version of Jesus we hold in our minds so that we can sleep at night? Or do we dare to challenge ourselves, and our people, to vote for the savior we so longingly proclaim on Sundays?

We must ask these questions of ourselves and of our parishioners. Which Jesus will we vote for today? Which Jesus do we want to see out in society—the one who will bring death, or the one who will bring everlasting life? Which Jesus do we want to preach? On this Palm Sunday, the power of that decision lies within us. I hope we choose well. I hope we cease shouting, “Crucify him!” and instead shout something else…

…“Praise him.”

The Rev. Sean Ekberg is the Rector of Episcopal Church of the Resurrection in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He earned a Master of Divinity from Seminary of the Southwest in 2015. His favorite pastimes are talkin’ bout Jesus, enhancing his terrible golf game, and taking vacation time with his favorite person in the world—his wife, Nicole. They have a thirteen year old pit bull named Ty. He likes Jesus, too.

Palm Sunday (A): What is Palm Sunday?

What is Palm Sunday?

Matthew 26:14-27:66

By Mashaun D. Simon

For the longest time, Palm Sunday was simply the Sunday before Easter for me. Yes, there were rituals we performed at church before and during that Sunday’s worship service. And yes, those rituals included acquiring and laying palms throughout the sanctuary.

Over time, I became more and more aware of the reasons we were doing what we were doing: the palms, their significance, and what they represented. But I cannot say with confidence what the moment meant for the church, and what the significance was of the palms.

I came to understand that we were doing it because Palm Sunday represented the arrival of Jesus into Jerusalem, complete with the celebrations surrounding this moment. But I did not fully understand why it was such a big deal and why there seemed to be the need to mark this moment in the calendar year.

Today, I possess this conclusion in my mind that Palm Sunday is, in many ways, about preparation and it is through this idea of preparation that I engage this year’s gospel text for Palm Sunday, which can be found in the 14^th chapter of Matthew.

The themes of preparation are prevalent throughout. Here in the story we have Judas receiving currency for his betrayal, the disciples making preparation for the Passover meal, Jesus’ declaration that he will be betrayed, Jesus’ declaration that he will be denied thrice, and Jesus’ grieving and agitation.

Each of these scenarios have, in one way or another, some level of connection to preparation. Judas’ actions are the prequel to Jesus’ persecution—and we are being prepared for the full weight of it. The disciples seeking a place for the Passover meal is preparation for a moment of fellowship and covenant. Jesus’ two declarations—one of betrayal and the other of denial—provide preparation for lessons as well as bracing for what is to come. And Jesus going away to grieve ahead of the ultimate sacrifice is a signal of the realities of doubt and fear.

Throughout the story, we are being prepared for what’s next and being given a glimpse into the realities of human nature. I can’t help but see this theme of preparation throughout these verses and wonder what the overall takeaway should be at this time in this season as we await Easter.

Preparation is defined as the act of making ready or being made ready. We live in a society rooted in preparation.

Whether in school or on a job, we are all working towards a level of readiness. Being or feeling prepared is human nature. When we aren’t ready for what’s coming, we are often uncomfortable, uneasy, stressed even.

But what does being prepared mean for us in this text? What does being prepared mean for us in the seasons of Lent and Easter? Why must we prepare? And what are we preparing for? What are the benefits of being prepared?

I have friends who call me a control freak. They are convinced that I spend entirely too much energy on knowing what is coming or what is next and they consider that to be a form of needing or wanting to be in control. But for the most part, what they miss is that it is not always about being in control; rather, it is about being at my best.

Maybe that is what the theme of preparation is about in this text: Jesus being at his best and wanting the disciples to be at their best.

Jesus knew what was coming and wanted the disciples to be as prepared as possible for what they would need to do next. Here Jesus was about to make the ultimate sacrifice, and he wanted to give them time to understand not only what was happening, but an opportunity to be at their best once it happened.

Granted we are supposed to have an idea of how things panned out after Jesus’ persecution, and Jesus knew how things would work out, but his disciples didn’t. And so, Jesus wanted to prepare them for what was to come, and for the part that they would be made to play.

But more than a biopic of the life of the disciples during Jesus’ last days, Palm Sunday reminds us that we all have a part to play. God has a plan for us, yes, but that does not mean that we are to sit idly by, come what may. We are being called to do our part.

Maybe, just maybe, this is what we are supposed to take from this day, this theme, and this season.

This season, think about what is before you. Think about what you are anticipating. Think about your call, and the ways you have committed (or not committed) to answer it, bracing yourself for what is to come.

Pay attention to the signs being provided; ready yourself for what is to come. Be mindful that regardless of what is coming, God is with you, equipping you for what is on the other side.

And then give God the praise for what God has done, is doing, and will do in the lives of God’s people.

Mashaun D. Simon is a preacher, a teacher, a writer and a scholar in his native, Atlanta, Georgia. He holds a Master of Divinity from Emory University’s Candler School of Theology with a triple focus in preaching, faith and formation, and race and religion, and double certificates in Black Church Studies and religious education. He contributes his thoughts and perspectives to online and print mediums, and serves at House of Mercy Everlasting (HOME) church in College Park, Georgia. Much of his research focuses on race, sexuality, identity and faith.