Palm Sunday, April 13, 2025
Luke 19:28-40
St. John the Evangelist, Kitchener
Mitigated hope
‘Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord.’ Please be seated.
Humbled as I am by the invitation to offer a Palm Sunday homily as part of this Liturgy of the Palms and the Passion, Preston’s invitation included a query about the ‘intersections’ of Hospital Chaplaincy (the vocation from which I am mostly retired!) with Holy Week. Indeed, there are many intersections!
And you’ll be relieved to know I’m basing this homily on the Gospel read with the Palm Procession, rather than the longer version just now!
I wrote the first draft (!) of this sermon a week ago on Monday, the same day that the neighbouring Consumption and Treatment Site (or CTS) closed, after saving so many lives for almost six years. And equally sadly, that the King St. Emergency Shelter (in the former Schwaben Club) closed on the same day, after two years. Though, the prospects now for many of clients of the CTS are perilous – at least until some partly parallel services develop among local agencies – and while a Court injunction is ignored by the Province, and a Charter Challenge is awaited for the CTS – mercifully, 85 of the 100 people staying at the Shelter in recent weeks had apparently been helped to find housing with some supports by a week ago on Monday. (RECORD, Mon. March 31/25) But to say the very least, the fentanyl and homelessness crises – not unique to this community – are both far from over. Indeed, recalling the words of one of the many dedicated peer support workers at the CTS that ‘last day’, she spoke of ‘mitigating’ hope; at least for others, if not for herself. And she could have spoken for me, let alone about our Gospel text this morning.
Mitigating – as in easing without eliminating – hope. Perhaps it was a sentiment known to the throngs who waved palm branches – as we did here earlier. As did Pope Francis in Rome earlier today, and many Ukranians killed by Russian bombs as they worshipped … With echoes of all those years ago in Jerusalem, and the salutation we’ll share in the Eucharist this morning: ‘Blessed is the One who comes in the Lord’. With ‘the (very) stones crying out’, though, ‘for but an instant’ (Cousar et al, Year C) before Holy Week unfolds with the Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus’ arrest by Roman soldiers, facing mock trials and gruesome Roman crucifixion – with his mother Mary, among others at the foot of the cross’ – his death, entombment, and then being raised, in the Body of Christ …. But, ‘we’re not there yet, in Holy Week.
From the sublime … to some T.V. show trivia (!) Back several years ago, how many CBC watchers recall the T.V. program “DaVinci’s Inquest”, and its sequel “DaVinci’s City Hall”? About a City Coroner, who becomes the Mayor of Vancouver. And there really was a DaVinci … except his family name was Campell; Dr. Larry Campbell. And there really was a Jesus (!), though his family name was not Christ. Because, we’re not there yet, either.
Almost thirty years ago this Holy Week, I was the on-call Chaplain at Vancouver General Hospital, and sadly but surely some of our work was on behalf of Dr. Campbell, when he was the City Coroner. In a bit of ‘autobiographical theology’, here are a few vignettes that helped to put a human face on Holy Week,
for me. And perhaps they’ll be helpful to you too. (with thanks to Frederick Buechner). And if any of these three stories is particularly evocative for you, please reach out for the support you need.
First, I was called to the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit, where a woman was sitting across the arms of a big chair: her back up against one side, and her feet dangling over the other side; as if she was cradling a loved one. I introduced myself as John, one of the Chaplains, and she looked up and said: “my son is dying, and my name is … Mary.” Her love and posture reminded me of Michaelangelo’s sculpture ‘The Pieta’; like her namesake as if cradling the body of a beloved son.
Later that day, Dr. Campbell asked me to meet with the grieving parents of a different young man who had been killed by drunk driver … to accompany them to see the body of their son… As together we walked what must be the longest hallway in the life of any loved one, I invited them to tell me about their son. “He was 32” said the woman who had given him life. “And his Dad added, he was … a carpenter”…. (Of course, Jesus was also 32 when he died, and a carpenter.) And on we walked on, together.
By nightfall, I was called to the Emergency Room, to join two elderly women – apparently a couple – one an unconscious patient, the other holding her hand tenderly. I introduced myself, and the invitation came: “would you join us in saying The Lord’s Prayer?” And as the devoted partner led our prayer, her beloved gently breathed her last … now parted, though they would meet again, as Jesus promised about ‘many abiding places’ with God, and in the lives of those loved, and loved by. (John 14:2 alt)
They reminded me of disciples.
Recalling anew, the ‘Triumphal Entry’ of Jesus into Jerusalem – which we mark today, – ‘for but an instant’ before pivoting into the rest of Holy Week that lies ahead of us. And so,
‘we’re still not there, yet’.
But perhaps – like the Peer Support Worker at the CTS – we are mitigating hope; echoing our ancient ancestors, easing our hopefulness, in welcoming One ‘who comes in the name of the Lord’ to overcome Roman tyrants… Among many other things, in our time, perhaps we are still hoping that compassion to provide harm reduction amidst drug addiction, will surmount the ideological determination of some, to withhold that lifesaving care from others.
So, as followers of Jesus, when we come anew though the Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus’ arrest by Roman soldiers, facing mock trials and gruesome Roman crucifixion – with his mother Mary, among others at the foot of the cross, his death, entombment, and being raised in the Body of Christ …. then we’ll be there.
Perhaps, in part, because we have put a human face on the timeless narrative of Holy Week, and discerned some of its intersections in our lives, and our times. With hope, now unmitigated.
Rev. John Lougheed
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.