For years I tried to combine the Liturgy of the Palms with the Liturgy of the Passion into a single worship service. It is probably the most common way of observing Palm Sunday in mainline Protestant congregations. The basic ideas is that the majority of worshipers come to church only on Sundays and those who attend on Palm Sunday and don’t return until Easter Sunday never get even a glimpse at the depth of Holy Week. So the tradition developed of reading the passion story after the parade of Palms on Palm Sunday. And, as I said, I followed that practice int eh congregations that i served for many years.

Then I had a year in my own life when my brother, my mother and my father-in-law all died in the same year. Our congregation, as one would expect, was wonderful and very supportive at the times of the deaths. Two of the funerals were held in our church and the congregation does really know how to provide a supportive and loving atmosphere for those who are grieving. Then a few weeks went by and the services were over and I went back to work, but the layers of grief were deeper than I realized and I found that I wasn’t getting over it. Of course you never get over the loss of a loved one. I know that. I’ve been saying that for years. I’ve walked beside families through the journey of grief over and over again.

It is different when I am the one grieving.

I began to understand that grief is not something that you can rush. It is not something that you can compact. It is not something for which there is a shortcut.

I emerged from that process with two specific ideas for our congregation. The first was that we need to practice grief. Grief is a difficult process for us all and it is something that we all will one day face. It isn’t enough to minister to others when they are grieving. We need to get serious about practicing our prayers and our listening and our coping skills, because we, too will one day be immersed deeply in the waters of grief.

Secondly, grief is not something that can be rushed. It moves at its own sweet way at its own sweet pace. There is no timeline. There is no pattern that can be followed. There is no one-size-fits-all for our grief. We need allow grief to flow on its own.

And so, after consulting with the Department of Worship, our congregation began to pour a lot more energy into Holy Week. It is a week of Sabbath for our congregation. We offer worship every day, not just on Sundays. We encourage our families to take time off of work, to take time off from school, to give themselves time to focus their attention on the activities and events of Holy Week. Even if they don’t take their extra time to attend a service at church, we seriously challenge the families of our congregation to take time to practice grief - to take time out of the everyday routine.

When a real loss occurs, when a death happens to someone that is beloved, we all drop everything. We all take time to sit with our grief. We all take a sabbath. Our congregation offers a week of practice for those days every year.

Yesterday, we simply focused on Palm Sunday. We had our parade. We handed out the palms. We encouraged people to take them home. We listened to our children sing songs. Our choir and organist prepared triumphal music. We listened to the story and we focused our attention on the entry into Jerusalem. We even read a psalm of ascent - one that was repeated at the gate to the city in the days of the first temple.

Today we will experience the liturgy of the passion. This year our Gospel is Mark. At different phases of my life, I have had different favorite Gospels. At one time or another each has had special meaning for me. I used to think that John was my favorite. It is intellectual, poetic and musical. It challenges my thinking as well as tells the story. But these days, I am grateful for Mark. It is the shortest of the gospels, and perhaps the most to the point. Everything in the Gospel rushes to get to the high point of the Gospel: the crucifixion of Jesus.

There are scholars who say that the original Gospel ended with the burial of Jesus - that the resurrection stories were added at a later time. It is a cause for some debate at seminaries - at least it was at our seminary when I was a student. Can you have a gospel without a resurrection story? Is it a gospel if there is no report of resurrection. Is resurrection so much the entire point of Christianity that there is no Christian faith without the resurrection? Probably normal people don’t discuss such questions late into the night, but I used to do so with my friends.

I was too young and too inexperienced in those days to understand the crucifixion. I had not yet had enough experience with death in my life to begin to understand grief. Now I know what I could not understand in those days. It is precisely because Jesus died that we are able to bear the reality of death. It is because Jesus died that we are able to face our own death and know that we are not alone. There is no place in this life - not even death itself - where God is not willing to go to be with us. God is so intent on relationship with us that it is God on the cross. God knowing death. When we feel totally abandoned, when we are overcome with grief, when we have no words for our prayers, when tears are all we can see - we are not alone. God is with us.

I don’t dislike the resurrection stories. I just understand that it isn’t yet time. We are not yet ready. Today is a day to simply dwell with the stark reality that grief hurts - loss is real - tears overwhelm.

Tonight I will simply read the story of Jesus’ crucifixion from Mark’s gospel. It gets to me every time I read it.

I pray that I will be able to read it well enough to connect with someone else this evening.

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