Turmoil. Palm Sunday, April 2, 2023. The Rev. Kathleen Sturges

Matthew 21:1-11, 27:11-54

Palms and Passion all in one service - it’s quite a mash up. We started this morning in joy waving our palms, celebrating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Minutes later in our world - in Jesus’ it was a week later, still that’s not a lot of time - Jesus is arrested, tortured, crucified, dead. And here we are left in the wake of that darkness. What do we do with that? What a swing in emotional tone. How do we hold both of these realities - the joy and the sorrow - at the same time on this day, and really in our lives?

As I’ve pondered that, I’ve been drawn to a particular word that Matthew’s gospel uses to sum up Jerusalem’s response to Jesus’ arrival. Turmoil. “When [Jesus] entered Jerusalem,” we heard, “the whole city was in turmoil.” So instead of Palm Sunday, what if we called this day Turmoil Sunday? Does that sound like good news to you? Did you show up today hoping Jesus would bring you some turmoil? Probably not. I can honestly say that I have never prayed for to Jesus, “Please bring turmoil into my life.” And I’m relatively sure that you haven't either. Most of us probably pray that Jesus will bring just the opposite. Peace. Comfort. Answers to questions. Solutions to problems. We didn't come here today looking for turmoil. We came to hear the story of Jesus riding on a donkey, to sing our hosannas, and to get our souvenir palms. And likely the crowds that followed Jesus weren't all that different from us. A ride on a borrowed donkey, songs of celebration and praise, garments and branches that fall before Jesus like the confetti in a parade. Now that's a triumphal entry. It was for them and it is for us. And most of us are probably pretty happy to leave it at that - end of story.

But of course that is not the end of the story. And I wonder if Jerusalem gets it better than we do. I wonder if the city’s response to Jesus’ arrival is actually the most faithful and appropriate one. Maybe we should all be in turmoil this day. Maybe turmoil is today’s good news. Maybe the turmoil that Jesus brings is exactly what we need. 

 We typically think of turmoil along the lines of chaos, confusion, uncertainty. But the Greek word that has been translated into turmoil really means to shake or quake. It’s descriptive of what happens in an earthquake. In addition to using this word to describe Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, it is laced throughout the rest of the story - the shaking of the earth and the splitting of the rocks at Jesus’ death, the angel rolling the stone away from the tomb, the shaking of the guard who stood at the tomb. In all these moments, the gospel is describing seismic events in which our lives and our worlds are shaken to the core.

 Now as some of you may know, I grew up in California. And back in the day before, sadly, it became routine for the state to experience disaster upon disaster, the primary underlying threat we lived with was earthquakes. Growing up I probably experienced three or four of them. And what I learned from experience was that all earthquakes are not alike. Of course there is the degree in magnitude, some are more intense than others. But they can also feel differently. Some shake the ground, but others have more of a rolling sensation. They last just a few seconds, but those seconds can feel much longer in time. And, of course, they occur without warning - you’re going about your normal day and then, all of a sudden, something very odd is happening. Usually it takes a moment to get your mind around what is actually going on. Perhaps you know what I mean if you were in this area back in 2011 when an earthquake out of Louisa shook the ground here in Charlottesville.

 Thankfully there were no deaths from that earthquake and only minor injuries were reported. Damage to buildings, however, was widespread. Which makes sense because when the ground on which we stand shakes, when the foundations on which we build our lives are threatened or in turmoil things can crumble and fall. Bottom line, earthquakes can be very destructive in our lives. But not necessarily so. Over the years building practices have been honed so that structures can better withstand seismic tremors. The key is developing strength and flexibility. Strength so that the building can stay standing, but flexibility so that that same building is able to absorb and dissipate tremors. For in earthquakes, and in life too, rigidity often results in downfall.

 Which brings me back to our two gospel readings. One of triumph, the other of tragedy. Both reveal the kind of turmoil that Jesus brings into our lives. The kind of turmoil that seeks to shake things up not for our downfall, but in order that we might become more fully alive, more fully ourselves, more fully God’s. So let me ask you this. What parts of your life and world need some Jesus kind of turmoil? What in you needs to be shaken? What are the old ways of thinking, seeing, and acting that maybe just need to crumble and fall? In what ways have you become rigid and a prisoner of the very structures upon which you’ve built your life? Somewhere in each of our lives we need the triumphant turmoil of Christ so that space can be made for a new foundation, a new structure, new life - one that at the same time is strong and flexible. One that doesn’t cling to the either/ors, but is able to hold with some degree of ease the both/and’s of life. The joys and the sorrows, The triumphs and the tragedies. The palms and the passions.

 For the turmoil of this day is also the triumph of this day. The triumph that goes way beyond a donkey, hosannas, and palms. It is Christ Jesus’ earth shaking entry into our world and into our lives. It is a triumph that will continue to be revealed throughout this holy week - and, if we are willing, throughout all the days of our lives.