What would you do if Christ came here?

I think there is a danger that we begin to see what we do here at Church as being normal; that we bring our everyday expectations with us into this most extraordinary place; that instead of taking the sense of awe and wonder with which this place is suffused out into the world, that we bring our worldly senses, dulled as they have been by its fascination with the trivial and temporary, into here.  So rather than opening our eyes to the grandeur and majesty of everything that surrounds us outside these doors; we close our eyes to the uncommon grace and beauty that surrounds us here inside.

[In so doing,] We risk becoming blind to the great cloud of witnesses whose icons surround us ; becoming deaf to the voices of angels worshipping invisibly with us; missing the royal dignity of our High Priest, the King of Glory present here with us; [of] sitting idly by as the liturgical dance beckons and moves around us; and [we risk] not entering into the profound humility of Our Lord’s Sacrifice or the joy of His Resurrection and triumph over death. 

Instead of a beautiful vision of transcendent Truth, our worldly senses will only let us see peeling paint (in place of icons); hear the sound of our familiar choir (without its angelic members); notice only your sinful neighbor, dressed up and serving before you (and miss the High Priest, for whom he serves); watch a repetitive ritual which varies little from week to week (instead of joining in the timeless dance which continues without end because its joy is eternal); and miss how the arms of God reach down and enfold us, seeking to draw us nearer to His love.

I know of this temptation not just because I myself fall prey to it, but because it is present in today’s Gospel.

In the beginning of the Gospel, Jesus comes to have dinner at the house of Simon Who Had Been a Leper (mentioned in the other accounts), with Lazarus Who Had Been Dead, Lazurus’ sisters Mary & Martha, and the disciples.  Can you imagine any greater joy than to have dinner with One who had healed you of leprosy, or raised you from the dead, or healed your friend, or brought your brother back from the dead, or who had changed your life and offered you an eternity of blessings?  Can you imagine anything greater than having dinner with the Living God?  Mary’s action speaks for all those who recognize the profundity of the situation: she anoints Christ with costly oil; an action that Christ ensures will continue to serve as a useful witness and reminder to all of us throughout the ages.  She did not allow her mind to trick her into seeing this occasion as something ordinary (after all, it is just a man coming to join us in doing something we do every day!).  However, the other disciples did give in to this temptation, questioning the appropriateness of her action.  Judus Iscariot put words to their feelings when he says that it would have been better to sell the oil for the poor than to anoint Jesus (the One who came in poverty to save us all from slavery and destitution).

Of course, even if do bring your worldly senses into St. Michael’s, you will still see many things you like.  There is joy, enthusiasm, and growth; and even if you cannot hear the angels, the choir sounds really good without them.  And while you know me to be nothing more than your sinful neighbor and parish employee, you do think I’m a pretty good guy, and that the vestments I wear are really beautiful.  Plus you enjoy the rituals and activities this parish performs: the services are nice, the food is great and fun to prepare, and the values we teach are good for your family and children.  Moreover, this is a place that holds many good memories, and you enjoy basking in them for a couple hours a week.  In these things our worldly senses are telling the truth, but only part of it… and not even the most useful part of it.

It is this kind of half-truth that the great multitude saw when they took branches of palm leaves out to meet Christ, [crying out “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  The king of Israel”] as He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.  They were right in seeing our Lord as the King of Israel; [and] they were right to be excited to have the miracle worker in their midst.  But if they stop there, then they miss the real import of our Lord’s arrival: He was the God-man who came to suffer, die, and be resurrected so that all of them – and all of us – might be saved from sin and might join with Him in glory.   And if we stop there – at an appreciation for the worldly beauty and meaning of this wonderful parish and the loving people who worship here; then we miss the greater point and the deeper meaning.

There is wonder and joy here, but it only begins with what you see with your worldly eyes.  Open your senses so that you can see it all through the Light of Christ.  Appreciate and embrace the majesty, the joy, the grace, and the wonder.  And then take that discernment out so that you can see the world as God intended it to be seen.  Then we can truly join with all the hosts of heaven in proclaiming:

“Hosanna in the Highest!  Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!  The King of Israel!”