Philippians 2:5-11

Praying at Gethsemane, He Qi, 2001. The artist is a professor at the Nanjing Union Theological Seminary and a tutor for master candidate students in the Philosophy Department of Nanjing University. He is also a member of the China Art Association and a council member of the Asian Christian Art Association.

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.

Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name,

so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

John 12:12-16

Today’s passage tells the story of Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week. All four Gospels begin with what they call “The Triumphal Entry.” As a child I can recall being given a Sunday school leaflet on that day showing Jesus riding on a donkey while the crowds of adults and children waved palm branches and threw cloaks in front of him. It was a real parade. At Hope Church on Palm Sunday, we give our children palm fronds and lead them around the sanctuary calling out “Hosanna!” We sing the hymn, “Hosanna, loud Hosannas, the little children sang.” Children are very much a part of our Palm Sunday observance. We might ask why.

Two thousand years ago Jesus arrived in Jerusalem amid talk of a coming King, the Messiah.  Everyone wondered if this could be the man. Instead of a king in royal robes mounted on a stately horse, they see a humble man in a drab homespun robe seated on a donkey. Nevertheless, caught up in the fervor of the moment, they call out, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel!” The children run alongside of him, cheering him and waving their palm fronds. They see in him something that older eyes do not, and so they cry out their praise, and Jesus recalls the ancient prophecy:

Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
you have prepared praise for yourself. (Psalm 8:2)

We can learn from this child-like faith. We don’t need the trappings of a conqueror to know a true king. Jesus made a triumphal entry, but the accolades didn’t last. Five days later the same crowd would shout for his crucifixion. Instead, like the children, we can believe in him, we can trust him, and no matter what comes next, He is our Savior. Praise be to God!

Prayer:  Gracious God, like the children, we would praise you with all our hearts. We pray that our faith will be strong and unshakeable through whatever lies ahead for us. May your love shine in us and in all we do. In Jesus’ Name we pray, Amen.

                                                                                          —Ruth Donaldson

Psalm 119:9-16

The Problem of the Cross

Lent anticipates the cross. Lent is the prelude to the main anthem, the mood setter for the drama to come. Waiting around the corner, begging for the bright lights of Easter, stands the cross. As we reflect on Lent, it is hard to dismiss the cross. But what cross?

The cross as symbol? The cross as personal reality? The cross as a grim, functional instrument of a repressive state? I find the cross to be a disquieting and problematic window into Christianity. It is the ultimate Divine Rorschach Test. It becomes what we project it to be.

Crucifix, cruciform? Simple X-ed bar, or multiple bars, or X-es within X-es? Two horizontal beams, or three, or four? Slanted slats, or squared up ones? Occupied or deserted? Elaborations that tell of centuries of projection and fear and bitter conflict.

Focus on the pieta of a mother’s pain. No, focus on the brutal agony and gore of the wretched victim. No, focus on the emptiness. No, focus on the nefarious history of a brutal mechanism dedicated to subjugation. Always remember that the cross was used to punish. No, it was used to humiliate. No, it was used to liberate.

Social icon or fashion statement? Separator of Christians from Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Others. Distinguisher of people, of Kardashians versus Dali Lamas and bin Ladens. Wear it on our plunging necklines, pierced ears, tattooed biceps. Show the world that we are unique–like all of our clan. Arrayed on grassy fields in geometric rows to signal the graves of Us. We Are Not They.

Healing image, hopeful future? Gently placed on crinkled foreheads on disheveled deathbeds. Kissed for good luck; bon voyage into the next world where crosses reign triumphant. Human frailty, Divine redemption. Sin and selfishness and salvation. The human condition aspiring after higher things through the cross and grave and empty tomb. It all begins with the cross.

Such a simple structure on which to hang so much ambivalence. The cross bears all things, hopes all things, believes all things. It lives in the hearts of millions, billions; spreading good, spreading evil. Such a simple structure; such a world of burden to bear. During Lent we anticipate the cross. But what cross?

—Don Luidens

Psalm 119:1-8

Blessed are those whose ways are blameless,
who walk according to the law of the LORD.
Blessed are those who keep his statutes
and seek him with all their heart—
they do no wrong
but follow his ways.
You have laid down precepts
that are to be fully obeyed.
Oh, that my ways were steadfast
in obeying your decrees!
Then I would not be put to shame
when I consider all your commands.
I will praise you with an upright heart
as I learn your righteous laws.
I will obey your decrees;
do not utterly forsake me.

This psalm is an acrostic poem, the stanzas of which begin with successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet; moreover, the verses of each stanza begin with the same letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

—Kari Miller Fenwood