“Blessed are the ones who come in the name of Peace!”
WELCOME – Rev. Bromleigh McCleneghan
PRELUDE – Phillip Herr-Klepacki
GOSPEL – Mark 11:1-10 – offered by Alexis Dixon
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ ” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street.
As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
OPENING HYMN – “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna”
TIME WITH CHILDREN AND BIRTHDAYS – Rev. Bromleigh McCleneghan
INTERLUDE – Children 3 years-5th grade may leave for our children’s program, United Tribes, following the hymn. Our nursery for babies and toddlers and childcare for older children in the second hour are available until 12:30 p.m., as is a parents’ room at the back of the Sanctuary.
A PROTEST LITURGY FOR PALM SUNDAY – led by the Reverends; Rev. Bromleigh McCleneghan, Rev. Chad McGinnis, Rev. Talia Raymond, and Rev. Ellen Ribe
One: Ride on, Jesus! … over the broken glass of our world, the rumors meant to hurt, the prejudice meant to wound, the weapons meant to kill, ride on … trampling our attempts at disaster into dust. Ride on!
Many: Ride on in majesty! Ride on in majesty!
One: Ride on Jesus! … over the distance which separates us from you, and it is such a distance, measurable in half-truths, in unkept promises, in second-best following, ride on … until you touch and heal us, who feel for no one but ourselves. Ride on!
Many: Ride on in majesty! Ride on in majesty!
One: Ride on Jesus! … through the back streets and the garbage bins and the sneered-at and ignored corners of the city where human life festers and love runs cold, ride on … bringing hope and dignity where most send scorn and silence. Ride on!
Many: Ride on in majesty! Ride on in majesty!
One: For you, O Christ, do care and must show us how, on our own, our ambitions rival your summons and thus threaten good faith and neglect God’s people. In your company and at your side, we might yet help you to bandage and heal the wounds of the world. Ride on.
Many: Ride on in majesty! Ride on in majesty!
THE ATTEMPT TO SILENCE – Luke 19:37, 39-40
As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen …
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”
HYMN – The Very Stones Would Sing vs. 1-2, tune: Beach Spring
Here, we wave our palms in honor, Here, we lay our garments down,
As you enter in your glory, And as we demand your crown.
We shout psalms of adoration, Crying “Blessed is the One!”
And you say that if we’re silent Then the very stones would sing!
We have waited for your coming. We have cried out for release.
You’re the savior we have longed for; You’re the One, the Prince of Peace.
So we wonder at your summons To be the peace you bring.
In reluctance, we are silent, So the very stones must sing.
LAMENTATIONS – “Like Locusts” by Nikki Grimes – offered by Anne Casella
The season of lament
appears on no calendar
I can find
yet it can be counted on
to arrive on our doorsteps
uninvited.
We recognize the signs with
meteorological precision:
the gathering
of dark clouds
a smothering sadness
a swarm of
depressing thoughts
eating away at our joy
like locusts
and we withdraw
personal failures
our only companions.
Oh, yes!
The season of lament is here.
And where is our faith?
Why has it chosen
this moment to flee?
We hunt for that
trail of light
that speck of star-shine
that reminds us
God is neither dead
nor gone
nor done with us.
He has made promises:
I will never leave you
nor forsake you.
She will surely keep them
won’t he?
Won’t she? Lamentations 1:1–22
THIS HOLY SEASON – “Lent, 1991” by Maren C. Tirabassi – offered by Tim Martin
Lent comes.
We draw a holy comma
in rushed and busy lives.
We follow down old scripture words
the journey to Jerusalem.
We stumble into prayer again
and whisper soft
the dearest, fearest
of our thoughts.
Lent comes.
Last year’s palms
crumble into ashes.
Last year’s peace
weeps into war.
We sing of Gethsemane
amid new tears, new bleeding.
The screaming bombs
burn crosses in our hearts –
this too is God’s story.
Lent comes,
but also Ramadan’s fast,
Passover’s freedom memory
Easter’s crazy contradiction.
Faith is born of prayer
and sings with courage,
while all the children
of the earth
shelter in the wings of God
awaiting our embrace.
HYMN – The Very Stones Would Sing vs. 3-4, tune: Beach Spring
We are frightened, thus unfaithful, When we’re silenced by the world.
We betray you; we deny you Lest their anger be unfurled.
We are scared, Lord, to speak boldly; To security we cling.
In our panic, we are silent, So the very stones must sing.
O God, help us to stand steadfast. Help us witness to your peace.
Help us to reclaim our voices That our praise may never cease.
Lead us forward on the journey; Bells of justice let us ring.
Underfoot, may stones be silent; Let us be the ones who sing!
IN THE TEMPLE – Matthew 21:23-27 – offered by Rev. Ellen Ribe
WHO DO YOU SAY I AM – “Within Two Weeks the African American Poet Ross Gay is Mistaken for Both the African American Poet Terrance Hayes and the African American Poet Kyle Dargan, Not One of Whom Looks Anything Like the Others” by Ross Gay – offered by Ezra Stone
If you think you know enough to say this poem
is about good hair, I’ll correct you
and tell you it’s about history
which is the blacksmith of our tongues.
Our eyes. Where you see misunderstanding
I see knuckles and teeth for sale
in a storefront window. I see the waterlogged
face of the fourteen-year-old boy.
The bullet’s imperceptible sizzle
toward an unarmed man. And as you ask me to sign the book
that is not mine, your gaze shifting between
me and the author’s photo, whispering,
but that’s not you? I do not
feel sorry for you. No. I think only that when a man
is a concept he will tell you about the smell
of smoke. He will tell you the distance
between heartbreak and rage.
THE RIGHTEOUS AND UNRIGHTEOUS – Matthew 25:31-45 – offered by Jasmine Angelini-Knoll
SPECIAL MUSIC and OFFERTORY – “Kyrie” from Memorial by René Clausen – offered by the UCG Choir; Phillip Herr-Klepacki directing
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ANOTHER ATTEMPT – Luke 20:20-26 – offered by Karen Archer
IN WHOSE IMAGE – “Renderings” by J. Barrie Shepherd – offered by Allan March
Is it lawful
to pay taxes? Knifing
trifling terrier snatches at the heels
while the most god-awful murder hatches
crafty in the wheels of smooth despair.
Show me a coin.
Whose image does it wear?
Careful rabbi, never sharing
easy answers, ever further pressing questions
safely not to be examined
even in the private tomb of night.
Yet indictment in this very act
of bearing bony Caesar’s visage
or any graven other
in the city holy to the Sinai pact.
Whose image lights
those thirty shiny coins
down in the velvet bag?
Whose copper frown warms
in your palm, deep in the loin,
place you secrete the best from harm,
until the dirty money, proper earned,
returned, can buy a discrete field of blood?
Whose alloy face can occupy
that steep and holiest of holy,
usurp that one majestic image
set when royal we formed man from mud,
pronounced him very good,
and sealed all with the impress of approval?
Whose image on the coin,
in the palm, the bag,
the heart, or groin?
Whose image? Seek it
at the core of him who laughs with alabaster loves,
lets fly the temple doves, turns tables toppling and stone tablets,
wines stale water into sparkling,
disrespectfully declines
to purchase death with life,
and stretching arms for nails
wrenches all from grim Caesar,
and renders all to one.
PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE – Rev. Talia Raymond
CONGREGATIONAL RESPONSE – “Invocation” by Christopher Grundy – Phillip Herr-Klepacki
Hear us, God, for we are praying
Hear us, God, for we are laughing in our joy
Hear us, God, for we are crying out to you
Wondering what will be, what will be
Speak to us, God, for we are listening
Speak to us, God, for we are waiting for your voice
Speak to us, God, in our hearts and all around
Show us what can be, what can be
THE PLOT TO KILL JESUS – Luke 22:1-6 – offered by Rev. Chad McGinnis
WHAT JUSTICE? – “Fair is Fair” by Ann Weems – offered by Jennifer Pritchett
We still don’t like
the way it was done.
The whole idea of a sacrificial Lamb
is not to our liking.
What’s fair is fair,
and there was not justice here.
The Innocent One
The Righteous One
The Holy One put to death
because the ones in charge of politics
wanted to hold onto their crowns
and the ones in charge of religion
wanted to hold onto the key to the church.
How could they do it?
OUR TORN HEARTS – from Murder in the Cathedral by T.S. Eliot – offered by Meaghan Bonnaghan
We have all had our private terrors,
Our particular shadows, our secret fears.
But now a great fear is upon us, a fear not of one but of many,
A fear like birth and death, when we see birth and death alone
In a void apart. We are afraid in a fear which we cannot know, which we cannot face, which none understands,
And our hearts are torn from us, our brains unskinned
Like the layers of an onion, our selves are lost, lost
In a final fear which none understands.
HYMN – “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”
BENEDICTION – “Holy Week” by Ann Weems – Rev. Bromleigh McCleneghan
Holy is the week…
Holy, consecrated, belonging to God…
We move from hosannas to horror
with the predictable ease
of those who know not what they do.
Our hosannas sung,
our palms waved,
let us go with passion into this week.
It is a time to curse fig trees that do not yield fruit.
It is a time to cleanse our temples of any blasphemy.
It is a time to greet Jesus as the Lord’s Anointed One,
to lavishly break our alabaster
and pour perfume out for him
without counting the cost.
It is a time for preparation…
The time to give thanks and break bread is upon us.
The time to give thanks and drink of the cup is imminent.
Eat, drink, remember:
On this night of nights, each one must ask,
as we dip our bread in the wine,
“Is it I?”
And on that darkest of days, each of us must stand
beneath the tree
and watch the dying
if we are to be there
when the stone is rolled away.
The only road to Easter morning
is through the unrelenting shadows of that Friday.
Only then will the alleluias be sung;
only then will the dancing begin.
BENEDICTION RESPONSE – “Beautiful City” from Godspell, by Stephen Schwartz – offered by Phillip Herr-Klepacki
POSTLUDE – Phillip Herr-Klepacki
