Living under Judgement - a sermon for Palm Sunday

There’s an old Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson which shows two cavemen fashioning a wheel. Well, strictly speaking, one is fashioning a wheel and the other one is chatting to him with a big mace in his hand and the caption reads: ‘Yes, this invention will change the course of humanity. I call it the hammer and chisel.’ 

Gary Larson is soooo good because his cartoon makes nonsense of so many things at once. It makes nonsense of hackneyed notions: who’s to say that the wheel was a turning point in the history of humankind and the hammer and chisel were not? Pre-Colombian America seems to have emerged without the wheel, but not the hammer. It’s also funny in a bittersweet kind of way because it shows how we are often blind to the reality of what we are doing, to its actual impact, to what is important and what is not. We often, unknowingly, cause more harm than we intend or achieve much less good than we thought.

I believe us to be living through one of these moments. If the weeks of seclusion to come are to teach us anything, it’s the difference between what is virtual and what is not. The former can never really replace the latter. Human interaction can never become wholly virtual. It may prove a very painful lesson to learn for many. When I was a child, my social network was called ‘outside.’ But this is no longer the case for so many people. 

Do you miss church? I hope you do. What we do in church is inescapably interactive: we worship as a body, as the body of Christ. I begin some prayers and you respond. Even the most lonesome collect will expect a collective amen at the end. Amen, Hebrew for let it be. Yes, Lord, so be it. We stand together, kneel together. We break bread and eat; bless wine and drink. We kiss and shake hands…. We do most of the very things that are not allowed when social distancing is the order of the day because we do all the things that bring us physically together. We must mourn our worship at this time and not try to replace it by virtual reality. If, as so many clergy seem to be preaching at the moment, if virtual worship has more of an impact (that is to say more of an audience, I guess, because it’s easy listening and does not require any participation), if virtual worship has more of an impact then it will obviate the need to actually go to church. I don’t think this is wise. I do not think it will praise the Lord. Christian worship is bodily worship. Think of the very last prayer we would otherwise say this Sunday:

‘We thank you Lord for feeding us with your body and blood: send us out in the power of your Spirit…’ None of it would be true, certainly not being sent out. And today, we would have waved palms to acclaim Christ riding towards his self-sacrifice; riding on a donkey like the kings of Israel of old. 

Then we would have heard the story of the Lord’s arrest and passion. Watch out for Mr Garrick Hagon’s recorded version of the Passion according to St Mark on Good Friday, by the way, with musical intro.

All manners of things are preached on Palm Sunday. Preachers generally anticipate Good Friday and rush into the consequences of Christ’s death for us all. I’m rather struck by the fact that when he was tried, when people sat in judgement over him, our Lord opened not his mouth, at least in three of the Gospels although not in the Gospel according to Mark, which is rotten timing this year. 

Nevertheless, if the other three gospels are to be believed, when he was tried, when people abused him and reviled him, he opened not his mouth. When the legionaries dressed him in a cloak of imperial purple and mocked him in a parody of their ‘Hail, Caesar!’ and crowned him with thorn instead of laurel, he did not open his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in his turn. Hail the king of Jews indeed.

I think there is a profound lesson for us in this. In his silence, our Lord taught. When people are unable to listen: do not dare say a word. When people are unable to understand, do not teach. When people are on edge, when they are unkind, do not retaliate. If we are unable to turn the other cheek, let us at least be silent. It’s hugely important at the moment, when we live in each others’ pockets and when there is little scope to escape and get out or walk out your anger. It’s also important because when they engage in virtual conversations and commentary, people can be that little bit more vicious than to your face.

When he was tried, when people sat in judgement over him, our Lord did not open his mouth. Silence is a great teacher, especially in this world where we have to live with constant assessment and judgement. People don’t give anything a go any longer. We do not risk any restaurant, we do not even rely on word of mouth; why should we when we can read hundreds of reviews on TripAdvisor, with pictures of the food we are about to eat. Everything is reviewed from the start from dead cockroaches floating in people’s drinks to the heights of gastronomy, in terms that in more religious ages would befitted divinity.

Teachers are assessed by their students, I know I was. It used to be the other way around. And every purchase is accompanied by a little note asking: “How did we do?” To give someone feedback now basically means complaining. 

When the Lord taught us not to judge, lest we too be judged; he did not mean that we should shelve our ability to assess things, but not condemn or give a verdict. That’s what the word means in the Greek: do not pass sentence. 

It’s important to remember this commandment in all our virtual dealings because constant assessment distorts our sense of reality and erodes self-confidence. Confidence is at the best of time so elusive, one day you have it, the next you do not. And all of us have bad days. 

It also distorts our sense of reality, of the ‘outside’ in a much more fundamental way. The biggest problem with modern electronic media like the internet, Twitter is that, no matter what you believe, you'll find it confirmed on those platforms, somewhere, and sharing silly notions, once comforted by someone’s agreement is but a click away. This is true when it comes to churches, sermons, worship as well, the fake stuff can grow exponentially in similar ways.

Not judging thus rejigs our vision of reality. It’s an important lesson. We can easily forget who we are, and allow ourselves to be crushed or praised for something that is unimportant, only prized or reviled by many. God is always watching, they say, well so is the internet, but it’s much more judgemental.

We must also learn to not assess ourselves so constantly. One curious thing that decades of hearing people’s confessions has taught me is that the vast majority of us are much harder on ourselves than on others. We tolerate in other people what we absolutely loathe in ourselves… why? Because we should be better. It’s a spiritual poison when it comes to prayer, by the way. We think we ought to be pure and spotless, yet all these futile and ugly thoughts keep surfacing. We do not want them. We think they should not be there… why? Because we ought to be better than we are, or better than others? When you pray, when you meditate, when you do not open your mouth but sit in silence: you are all that you have. There’s no use wishing you were different, no one can pray or meditate for you. A blunt instrument you may be, a cracked pot… but you are all you have and if we must wait for perfection of sorts before we pray or sit down, we will wait for a very long time indeed.