The idea for this narrative sermon came from a short story I heard described to me (though I haven't myself read). Unfortunately, I can't remember who wrote the original.
…………………………………………………………………………...………………………………...…………….
“Good morning Sir and Welcome to Holy Land Time Tours…”
This was what I had been looking forward to for years – to travel back in time and see the very events when Jesus walked the earth. “Holy Land Time Tours” – I never thought I would be able to do this. Even when the government had first derestricted time travel and allowed commercial firms to operate to a limited number of destinations – well it was so prohibitively expensive. It was the concorde of our generation.
And then – well Aunt Matilda had died and left me that unexpected legacy – Well what else could I spend my money on than to travel back in time and see Jesus, to travel back and see the final week of his life.
So here I am in the departure lounge, being briefed for the trip of my life. The technician attached the Universial translation device to the inside of my ear. Now both Aramaic and Latin sound as English to me. I was given a quick injection to immunise myself against the plagues and diseases of first century Palestine. Almost ready for departure.
Now the briefing. It went on quite long. Quite tedious really. But the one thing that was said over and over again was “Don’t try to change history. Don’t stand out from the crowd. Just blend in and do what everybody else does. Just blend in and do what everybody else does.”
Eventually they cleared me for takeoff. I entered the time tunnel and took the plunge. As I fell through the waters I could see in the distance other time travellers whizzing past me, the many different customers of this organisation going back to their chosen destinations.
I arrived with a thump. It was hardly a gentle journey. The sun was high in the Sky. It was a sweltering spring day. A little way off to my right I could see a city wall. I must be just outside Jerusalem. In the distance, ahead of me, I could see a crowd gathered around what must be the main road. I walked up to join them.
As I get close to the crowd I get a bit of a sense of Déjà vu. There’s something about them that seems familiar. There’s a man with a long bushy beard, a woman with a rather prominent chin, a woman with a mole on her left cheek… As I look around at the vast gathered crowd, its somehow as if I have seen them all before. “Don’t be silly,” I tell myself, “Its 2000 years ago: there’s no way I could have seen any of these people before.”
Then he appears in the distance, slowly riding towards us on his donkey. The excitement is immense. Everyone is waving palm branches that they’ve torn from the local trees. I remember my instructions, “Don’t stand out from the crowd. Just blend in and do what everyone else does. Just blend in and do what everyone else does.” I quickly grab my branch and start waving it furiously just like everyone else does. Someone starts cheering. We all join in: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna to the King of Kings! Hosanna! Hosanna!” Its like being at a Jubilee or a royal wedding.
Later, the atmosphere calms a little and we all follow him to the Temple. Its the same crowd. The man with the long bushy beard, a man with sideburns, the woman with the mole on her forehead …so many people and I could describe them all. They look so familiar.
Then in the Temple, Jesus does something extraordinary. He doesn’t preach to us. He doesn’t kneel down to pray or worship. He goes gently up to one of the dove-sellers stall, and then suddenly hurls it over. And he shouts. Something about “my Father’s House should be a house of prayer for all nations, but you have made it a den of thieves.” He’s chucking tables everywhere. Dove’s flying. Money scattering. The Temple guard begin to react, but I see a priest stop them. He’s pointing to us, the crowd. He’s afraid we will riot. A baying crowd can be a dangerous thing.
And then Jesus melts away as if he’s never been there.
Through the week I follow Jesus, listening to more and more of his amazing teaching. So different to hear it first hand. So much more of it. And so practical. And all around me are the same crowd: The man with the sideburns, the man with the long bushy beard, a woman with a cut above her eye, the woman with a prominent chin… Its vast, the crowd, and yet its almost as if not a single person changes. As the week goes on I recognise so many faces. And I know they have been there all along.
On the Thursday night … Well of course I couldn’t get to the last supper .. But I do manage to hide myself in the Garden of Gethsemene. Its dark in the bushes, almost pitch black. I hear a russelling. Part of me imagines its some of my compatriots from the crowd – maybe the woman with the mole or the man with the sideburns. But it can’t be. They wouldn’t know where to come. Its only because of the hindsight of history that I know to be here. So I wait – and watch.
And firstly Jesus comes with his disciples – and then an hour or so later there comes the crowd of soldiers. I know whats going to happen – and its awful. Part of me wants to do something – to try to stop it. Is it my orders, “Don’t try to change history. Don’t stand out from the crowd. Just blend in and do what everyone else does.” Is it my orders – or is it just fear? Is it just cowardice?
I let them take him.
I watch and let them take him.
Later, Later I manage to sneak into the High Priest’s courtyard –where Peter was – I mean is – where I can see Jesus in the distance. I am surprised. There are more people in there than I expect. And I recognise them – The woman with the cut above her eye, the man with the sideburns, the woman with the prominent chin, the woman with the long bushy beard. So crowded in here – and all thosefaces so familiar. A cock crows twice. Jesus looks. I could have sworn it was me he looked at. Not Peter but me he stared at with that penetrating gaze.
Later, Later, we are outside the Praetorium. There’s a few Priests and Sadducees moves among us. But otherwise the crowd is the same. The same people who cheered Jesus on his entry into the city. The same people who watched him in the Temple, who listened to him in the streets. But the mood has changed. Pilate comes out and looks at us. A baying crowd I a dangerous thing. Pilate asks what we want done with Jesus? A cry goes up “Crucify him”.
A baying crowd is a dangerous thing – I am both excited and afraid. I want to do something – but they could turn on me too. And I have my orders, “Don’t stand out from the crowd. Just blend in and do whatever everyone else does.”
I start shouting “Crucify him!”
Soon I am shouting harder than all the rest. “Crucify him. Crucify him”. I don’t know what I am doing – but I just shout louder “CRUCIFY HIM”
They take him away.
A crucifixion is a very horid thing. And yet we watch. From a distance we all watch. And in hius agony I see Jesus looking at the crowd. Looking at the man with the long shaggy beard. Looking at the woman with the prominent chin. Looking at the man with the sideburns. Looking at the woman with the scar. Looking at me. Looking at all of us who a week ago cheered “hosanna” and today cried “Crucify”, looking at me.
And I hear him say “Father forgive the, they know not what they do.” He bows his head. He dies.
And my week is over.
I am sucked back into the time tunnel, up into the future.
And as I am sucked up through the vortex I can see in the distance other time travellers whizzing past me, the many different customers of this organisation returning from their chosen destination.
And this time I do recognise them
And this time I know where I have seen them before.
The man with the shaggy beard. The woman with the mole. The woman with the prominent chin. The woman with the scar. The man with the sideburns – All of them!
That’s why they seemed so familiar as they cried “Hosanna” – because I HAD seen them all before as I plyed through the vortex – all of them. I see the look of horror coming across their faces as it comes across mine.
“Don’t try to stand out from the crowd. Just blend in and do what everyone else does. Just blend in and do what everyone else does.”
That’s what we all did – everyone of us in the crowd. The man with the shaggy beard, the man with the sideburs, the woman with the chin, and all of the others. All of them and me. Thas what we all did. Blending in with the crowd, doing what everyone else did. There were no Jews, no Gallileans. Just us, just me … killing my Lord…
