Mark 14:1-15:47
Inevitably, when Palm/Passion Sunday approaches each year, I find myself haunted by the lyrics to that wonderful R.E.M. tune, and prompted to “talk about the passion” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCMy6kq5ZA0), remembering that “not everyone can carry the weight of the world,” and that there are those who feel that they have no choice but to do so.
The sense of gravity and responsibility felt by preachers of the gospel on Passion Sunday can be, and probably should be, daunting. However, knowing that there are those worshippers who do not or cannot attend services during Holy Week, particularly on Good Friday, and that there is the possibility, both in the US and elsewhere, that for some the uplifting narrative of the triumphal entry on Palm Sunday may be concluded by the celebration of resurrection on Easter, without any mention of Christ’s passion in between, we probably ought to give Passion Sunday careful consideration.
The Markan passage for Passion Sunday runs two chapters long, and represents more than 10% of Mark’s entire gospel. There is so much material; there are so many individual scenarios. There is for one sermon too much, if we’re honest, to choose from—but each pericope, like all of Mark’s gospel, pushes us along to that powerful, problematic concluding paragraph that tells us that “they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Those last words need not be problematic, however, for they evoke our response, they drive us to provide an ending--which, historically, is exactly what Mark’s editors were driven to do. Indeed, as AS Byatt has noted, “we are driven by endings as by hunger,” and as any viewer of the Truman Show knows, we must know how it ends. This is the power not only of Mark’s gospel as a whole, but also of his passion narrative—that it resists self-interpretation and invites re-telling. Unlike pretty much every other New Testament writer, Mark does not explicitly tell us what the passion, nor anything else, means. His gospel resists simple, singular interpretations, even working against the closure of explanation (his is a Jesus who tells parables so that folks don’t understand, after all) and calls his listener to join her own story with the pathos of Jesus.
Of course, many folks have looked at that ending that holds the key to what Mark is doing in his gospel, and thought, “That can’t be the actual end of the story. It’s too abrupt, it’s harsh and unsatisfying.” Some scholars have supposed that maybe the real ending got lost, but this is an unnecessary solution to a problem that need not exist.
If we look back through the gospel of Mark we notice something interesting that accompanies those times when Jesus is revealed to be the Messiah, when his identity is unveiled. It happens many times, beginning with Chapter 1. In verse 23, a man possessed by demons recognises Jesus and says “I know who you are--the holy one of God,” and what does Jesus tell him? BE QUIET. But news about him spreads quickly over the whole region of Galilee. Then a little bit later we read that Jesus would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was. Just a few verses later, Jesus heals a man with leprosy and says, “See that you don’t tell this to anyone.” Mark tells us however that the man went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news, so that Jesus couldn’t even enter a town without being mobbed—and people came to him even out in the middle of nowhere. Just one more example, and this one is key. In chapter 7, Jesus heals a deaf man, and some people see him do it, and in verse 36 we read Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. This is precisely the response that is evoked repeatedly in Mark; most forcefully in that final “and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” There is plenty of potential for meaningful comparison of these instances with those in chapters 14 and 15, namely: Jesus’ direct proclamation in 14:62; Peter’s denial of Jesus; Jesus “you say so” answer to Pilate, and finally the declaration of the centurion in 15:39.
A key homiletic strategy that ought to be remembered as we approach this unwieldy Markan narrative in chapters 14 and 15 is this: we ought to resist the temptation to over-theologize the passion narrative. Surely it is overflowing with meaning, but we would do well not to nail its meaning down too quickly into a reductionistic atonement narrative but to let its abundance call our listeners into conversation and proclamation.
Above all, particularly in our contemporary situation, we ought to guard against any tendency to offer support to the myths of redemptive violence or the necessity of the suffering of the innocent or the portrayal of a wrathful God whose bloodlust is satisfied through transactional exchange. As preachers we must not only resist putting bad theology forward, but we must actively counter it in clear and unequivocal ways. No worshipper should ever hear the passion narrative and be lured into the false comfort that their abuse or trauma or suffering was all a part of “God’s plan.” Toward this end it is appropriate that the second reading for the day is the kenosis hymn from Philippians 2, and surely this will provide an opportunity to contrast the outpouring of the one who emptied Himself of all but love with the image of a divinity who demands payment. Passion Sunday provides an ideal opportunity to clarify our Wesleyan view of atonement while avoiding the trap of over-theologizing and systematizing the narrative.
On Passion Sunday, the Markan narrative contained in chapters 14 and 15, does not provide easy answers to the question, “what does this MEAN?” We will not find in the words of Mark a satisfying atonement theory, some way to make “sense” of the suffering described there, but it just might be that many in our congregations are yearning not for their sufferings and scars to make sense, but for their stories to be told. The Markan passion narrative provides an opportunity to affirm the value and worth of people and their stories of suffering without trite “everything happens for a reason” reductionism. On Passion Sunday, resist the temptation to provide closure and tidy explanations, and allow the narrative of Christ’s betrayal and trial and suffering to draw out your audience’s own reactions and responses to the kenotic expenditure of Christ’s love. That is, talk about the passion.