O God of hope, grant us the wisdom, the strength and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

      Holy Week – beginning with Palm Sunday – is often a time when we hear and identify with failure – failure of trust, failure of faith, failure to stay awake and alert, failure to pray, the failure of truth, failure of government, the failure of troops charged with keeping the peace, the failure of religious leaders.  Most of the time in our Palm Sunday services, in a practice that goes back 1000 years, the congregation is expected to take the part of the crowd that shouts “crucify him.” However, I did some editing for today’s rendering of the Passion Narrative and asked that the narrator just tell that part of the story.  In all my years, I’ve never heard Episcopalians play the role of an angry mob convincingly (which is just as well).    We’re much more likely to identify with Jesus’ closest allies who betray, flee, deny, or fall prey to the grip of self-isolating fear.  Even if we’re not a part of the shouting crowd, it’s not hard to identify with at least one kind of failure – and if you’re like me, many failures, of the disciples of Jesus.

     In fact, I think my close identification with their many failures has led me to dread Palm Sunday the way I dread stories with unhappy endings.  We start with a parade – and I love parades!  Carrying our palm branches – some churches hire donkeys to lead the parade and process through the street with colorful streamers, singing “all glory, laud, and honor” to Jesus with hosannas, recalling his entry into Jerusalem.  I recall years in such places when I was young and the Palm Sunday parade made me feel giddy – which I think is the point.  It’s knowing too much that dampens my enthusiasm – that makes me feel guarded.  In later years I’ve thought, “if I could only figure out how to take the parade right out of the church before the rest of the service starts – you know, just keep walking down the street – so I wouldn’t have to hear the passion narrative, so that I wouldn’t have to participate a liturgy that hammers the message that it was because of us that Jesus died, presses us to claim the guilt of the mob as our own.

      It’s not that I don’t think that you and I are capable of and in fact guilty of missing the mark – of sin – in really big ways.  We certainly are.  We could spend useful time getting a better understanding of how crowds turn ugly and angry in order to learn to prevent the often deadly effects.  But I believe that wallowing in remorse is not how God would wish any of us to spend our days.  So I started wondering, how might listening to Mark’s passion narrative refresh, renew, re-invigorate us?  How might listening to Mark’s passion narrative get us in touch with the creative and redeeming and inspiring power of God, even in the midst of violence and chaos all around us to sustain us through the holiest of weeks?

      As I read and re-read the portion of the Gospel for today, asking that question, I noticed some faithful witnesses.  Maybe you’ve noticed them all along – but they generally don’t get much attention.  They are Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and Salome who were there among many other women.  The Gospel of Mark tells us that they watched the horrible scene of these crucifixions from a distance and adds that they “used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee…” 

      What’s interesting is that the Marys and Salome have not made any appearance in the narrative before this point.  Whatever you think you know about Mary Magdalene, you didn’t learn it from the Gospel of Mark.  And yet, I imagine that Mark’s hearers must have known Mary Magdalene – must have known James the lesser and Joses, must have known the Salome who provided for Jesus when he was in Galilee because no other explanation about their identity is offered.  Salome is not named in any other part of the New Testament.  However, the name Salome is frequently mentioned in extracanonical Gospel traditions and other early Christian literature(1)where Salome is sometimes described as Jesus’ biological sister, sometimes as disciple.  And it’s highly likely that there were two Salomes associated with Jesus since Salome was a very popular name in Jesus’ time.  In any case, here she is, with the Marys, unwilling or perhaps unable to avert their eyes from the agony of Jesus on the cross.

      What drew my attention was the description “these used to follow him and provide for him.”  The Greek word that is here translated “follow” also means to “go along with” – to accompany someone who is taking the lead in determining the direction or route.  Sister or companion or both, here are women who have provided for Jesus – provided meals, I imagine, provided comfort and rest.  Think of what it means to provide for someone.  And the Greek word that is here translated “provide” is the same word that is other places translated “deacon.”

      Mark says “And there were many other women.”  There were many other women who stood with Jesus – women who had come up with him to Jerusalem and who stayed to witness the unspeakable shame and pain of those being crucified.  Many – a great number of other women who chose not to flee, who looked on with continuity and attention, with a sense of understanding, of recognition.  This is the first time in Mark’s Gospel that a large number of women has been mentioned – in fact you could count on one hand the number of times that many women are reported gathered in the Bible.  If it weren’t only women, the Gospel writer would have said a “large crowd” right?  The size of the crowd of women must have been remarkable – literally – or else it wouldn’t have been mentioned.    Any one of the women (apart from those named) would have been unremarkable alone – it was the number that created the powerful witness. 

      These women were the eyewitnesses to Jesus’ death and to the place where his body was laid, according to the story.  There are at least three things to remember about being an eyewitness.  It takes at least two named witnesses to provide legitimate testimony – which is probably why the evangelist names some.  Indeed, each of the four evangelists name at least two women in the death and burial place accounts (even though the names of the women seem less important than the fact of them).  The second is that witnessing is not passive – it is doing something.  It is noticing – taking something in – registering.  And finally, there is not point to witnessing unless an account is told.  These women stuck together, they noticed, and they told what they had seen.

     So here’s a radical thought.  I’d like to invite every single one of you to identify with one of these women – these faithful witnesses this Palm Sunday.  Why is that radical?  Well, for several reasons.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve never received an invitation to be refreshed and inspired by a disciple of Jesus on Palm Sunday.  The second reason is that while women are often encouraged to think ourselves included in the term “men,” men are not often invited to think themselves included in the term “women,” (even though the word men is right in the word women!).  And it’s radical because it goes to a root, to a most basic principle and purpose of the Gospels:  to inspire and encourage us to live more fully into the abundant love of God.  The abundant love of these women IS the abundant love of God.

Think about these women and remember times when you have accompanied and provided for the well-being of one you loved.  Imagine remaining a steady presence when that person endures the worst imaginable humiliation and suffering.  Think about these women and remember how powerful it is to gather, to choose not to flee or to be alone.  Imagine looking on with continuity and attention, with a sense of understanding, of recognition when hope appears to be lost.  Think about these women and remember times when you have been persistent in seeking after truth, in determining what is really happening.  Imagine refusing to avert your eyes or to walk away from pain and suffering.  As we enter Holy Week, I invite you to stand with these women – stand along side of them to remember and imagine, and indeed to embody – to become -- the abundant love of God.