Hate the sin, Love the sinner

Palm Sunday is easily one of the most distinctly memorable masses of my childhood. While I of course understood Christmas and Easter were important ones, Palm Sunday stood out as a change in the monotony from the moment I walked in the door and was handed my giant palm leaf. What a glorious distraction it was to take this instrument of mischief and attempt poking and annoying my siblings without my parents noticing. Once that game got old, I moved on to folding the leaf into a cross like I had seen my dad do so many times before. I would make each crease, check my measurements, and never feel satisfied with the final result, which led to refolding and creasing this leaf until finally it ended up a jumbled mess.

It was around this point in the mass that I would remember that this was the mass with the long gospel...I mean the really long one. Oh no, we have to stand for the whole thing (except for that little part where we kneel). Deep down I knew that the gospel was an important one. The entire story of Jesus’ passion and death sets us up for Easter Sunday, the resurrection and the entire foundation upon which our church is built. But I always wondered why the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday had to be a part of the Palm Sunday mass. Wasn’t Palm Sunday depicted as the joyful day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem through a massive crowd of followers? Didn’t cheering people surround him and praise his name while they laid blankets and palm fronds in his path and treated him like a king? Why does this Sunday need to include all of the bad stuff that comes next? Can’t that wait until later in the week?

Over time I realized you cannot have one part of the story without the other. In the matter of just a few days, the people went from rejoicing in the presence of their Lord to cursing his name. Jesus’ five days in Jerusalem reveal the flaws of human nature that occur every day. How often do we find ourselves celebrating the successes of celebrities and athletes, friends and co-workers, even our own family members only to find ourselves filled with anger, frustration, and distrust towards the same people because of something they did, said, or worse, something that was said about them by people we don’t really even know. We give people our full love and support and then moments later drag their name through the mud. Athletes, politicians, celebrities, and even the people in our own communities, all flawed and sinful humans, can be so quickly judged for good and for bad. We all love the gospel passage about “throwing the first stone,” because it recognizes that we are sinful and shows us God’s mercy. But when we find ourselves in the crowd, the herd mentality helps us to justify our actions by not seeing them as sinful.

In today’s gospel, we, the flawed humans, turned against our own lord in the matter of just a few days. Someone who did no wrong. Jesus questioned the things that were wrong in the world. He stood toe to toe with the Pharisees and challenged their words and actions. He expelled the merchants from the temple, and blessed those who were considered outcasts of society. The mob grew against Him, and each member justified their place in the mob with fear, anger, and doubt. Even the very best in the crowd, the disciples, were not strong enough to overcome their fears. But the beauty in this story is in what comes next.

I recently read The Life of Pi for the first time. In the early chapters of the story, a young Hindu boy, Pi Patel, finds himself in a Christian church for the first time. The story describes the events of the crucifixion from an outsiders’ perspective. It explains how confounding Catholicism seems to someone raised learning about the three powerful gods of Hinduism. To Pi, it seemed absurd that, “Their religion had [only] one story, and to it, they came back again and again. Over and over. It was story enough for them.” He had never heard of a god dying before, and could not fathom the events of the crucifixion going unpunished. “Humanity sins, but it is God’s son who pays the price?” For Pi, however, it is this curious outcome that draws him in:

“This son on the other hand who goes hungry, who suffers from thirst, who gets tired, who is sad, who is anxious, who is heckled and harassed, who has to put up with followers who don’t get it and opponents who don’t respect him...What kind of a god is that? What is there to inspire in this son?” “Love,” said Father Martin.

Despite all of my misunderstandings as a child and through all of my frustration standing through the year’s longest gospel, the things that confused me the most are the same things that draw me in. This absolute mystery is what makes our faith so beautiful. When we were at our very worst, God loved us. When we turned against our Lord, tortured him, spat on him, yelled at him behind the safety of a crowd, and nailed him to a cross, we were not met with his wrath. There were no plagues and floods to punish us for our actions, but instead, we were given his love and forgiveness. Lent is a reminder of our flaws. It exposes our fears and doubts. But Palm Sunday reminds us that through it all we are worthy of salvation. It is our opportunity to change. To lift up those who are downcast by society, to forgive our enemies, and to fight for what is right in this world. The miracle of Easter is that God turned the cross, a symbol of pain, torture, and humiliation, into a sign of hope and love. Today’s gospel challenges us to overcome our own flaws and share this love. It may be our one story, but it is story enough for us.

Author: TJ Howard, Science Department