The Neighborhood Podcast

"Shouting & Silence" (April 13, 2025 Sermon)

• Rev. Stephen M. Fearing

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Rev. Stephen M. Fearing

The tension between silence and shouting defines our world. Every day, we navigate digital distractions, informational overload, and cultural noise that threatens to drown out the voices that matter most. Palm Sunday invites us to consider this paradox through the lens of Jesus's entry into Jerusalem—a moment when shouts of "Hosanna" became an act of peaceful protest.

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem during Passover, he entered a powder keg of political tension. The celebration of God's liberation of the Israelites made Roman authorities nervous, prompting increased military presence and heightened surveillance. Amid this tension, followers proclaimed Jesus as king—a dangerous declaration in occupied territory. Religious leaders, fearing reprisal, demanded Jesus silence his supporters. His response resonates through centuries: "If these were silent, the stones would shout out."

This powerful moment challenges us to examine where silence is enforced in our own world. Who fears speaking up? Whose voices remain unheard? Have we remained silent when justice demanded our voice? As we journey through Holy Week, we're invited to experience both the triumphant shouts of Palm Sunday and Easter, and the profound silences in between—the hush of the Upper Room, the stillness of Gethsemane, Peter's silent denial, and the devastating quiet of the cross. In both extremes and everywhere between, God remains present.

Holy Week offers a sacred rhythm of both celebration and contemplation. Don't rush from palms to empty tomb without experiencing the transformative quiet moments along the way. In a world that's constantly shouting, these moments of sacred silence might be exactly what our souls need most. Where is God calling you to raise your voice? Where might God be inviting you into holy silence?

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Speaker 1:

Let us pray Speaking God. Most days we are inundated with noise. Some of it is good laughter, music, storytelling, some of it is hard arguments, slurs, the sound of bomber planes. Every day we live in between silence and shouting, rotating through quiet and noise. So, in the midst of this messy middle, help us to hear what is yours. Help us to hear your song, your story, your good news. Help us to hear your voice, your spirit, your will, and show us how to release the rest. We are listening, amen. Our scripture, which is printed in your bulletin, is from Luke 19, 29 through 40.

Speaker 1:

When he had come near Bethpage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples saying Go into the village ahead of you and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you why are you untying it, just say this the Lord needs it. So those who were sent departed and found it, as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owner asked them why are you untying the colt? They said the Lord needs it. Then they brought it to Jesus and, after throwing their cloaks on the colt. They said the Lord needs it. Then they brought it to Jesus and, after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it.

Speaker 1:

As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road and as he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of disciples began to praise God joyfully, with a loud voice, for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heaven. 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 Holy wisdom, holy word. Thanks be to God.

Speaker 2:

Friends, let us pray, o Lord. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight, o Lord, our rock and our redeemer, amen. So, friends, we inhabit a world filled with overwhelming noise. This is the part where you go. What Digital disturbances arise from incessant push notifications on smartphones and other devices.

Speaker 2:

Additionally, we have informational noise that emerges from the vast amount that's available right at our fingertips, whether by searching online or asking our trusty assistants Alexa or Siri, or asking our trusty assistants Alexa or Siri. The expectation of immediate responses to text or email. Social media contributes to this constant connectivity that we have. And then, of course, we have the cultural uproar surrounding the culture wars that further add to the clamor. Those of us who live in cities often confront the debt of traffic and construction and city life. And then consumerism's relentless buzz implies that we lack fulfillment unless we own the latest gadget, trend or product. Many of us find ourselves entrapped in echo chambers to one extent or another, amplifying this noise further.

Speaker 2:

In short, we live in an extraordinarily loud world, and Jerusalem was a loud and large city. Loud especially at this time of year. Loud especially at this time of year, in the days leading up to Passover, the Jews became especially energized. It was, after all, the remembrance of an uprising the famous story of God defeating Pharaoh to deliver the Israelites from an oppressive empire. Needless to say, it wasn't the Romans' favorite time of year. When you're the conqueror, you don't like it when those you oppress get any fanciful ideas about liberation. When you're the empire, you do everything in your power to silence those who might threaten your authoritarian impulses. You threaten litigation, you withhold funding, you attack the arts, revoke privileges and line the roads with bloody crosses to keep everybody in their place. In short, you do everything in your power to make the cost of resistance too high a price to pay. During Passover, it was typical for the Romans to increase their military presence in Jerusalem, a time marked by heightened tension.

Speaker 2:

I recall once visiting Belfast, northern Ireland, in the summer of 2011, amidst what was referred to as marching season. Various groups engaged in street parades during the warmer months in a city that has witnessed considerable violence stemming from religious and sectarian strife, known as the Troubles. The period from roughly 1960 to 1998 saw intense conflicts between Protestants and the Catholics, the Unionists and the Loyalists, the Nationalists and the Republicans, and many of these divisions continue today. Thankfully, I believe that sectarian violence is relatively uncommon there now, but when I was there, even in the summer of 2011, some 13 years after the troubles had ended, the locals there advised me to mind my P's and Q's, as they would say, as tensions still, even then, tended to run high that time of the year. This experience often makes me reflect on whether it was just a glimpse into the kind of tension Jerusalem experienced when Jesus entered Jerusalem shortly after committing grand theft donkey.

Speaker 2:

A friend of mine referred to this passage today as such, and I had to share it with you all. This story, which most of us know well, which most of us know well, represents a particularly tense moment. Now, interestingly, today's text does not mention either palm branches or shouts of Hosanna. Sorry to ruin it for anybody. The other Gospels include that, but not Luke. However, today's text does refer to people shouting, blessing the name of the Lord and calling Jesus king, and this last line, in particular, was a very dangerous statement. A king, after all, is somebody who has complete control over something or everything. The Greek word that Luke uses is kurios, the same term that was publicly used to refer to a man named Caesar, so it's no wonder that the church leaders grew nervous, Whether their admonition of Jesus and his followers arose from fear, judgment, anxiety. Their message to Jesus is clear your people are going to get us all in trouble. Tell them to keep quiet.

Speaker 2:

There are many among us who know what it's like to be told over and over again to keep quiet, many among us who are either afraid to use their voices or fear that their voices, once raised, will be silenced. In today's cultural climate, immigrants and refugees hesitate sometimes to contact law enforcement when they themselves are the victims of violence and crime, due to concerns about the potential repercussions for themselves or their loved ones. Universities, non-profits and businesses and others fear retaliation for discussing issues of diversity and equity and inclusion. Over 65.7 million people in this country who depend on Medicare for life-saving health care worry that their voices aren't being heard. Our unhoused neighbors feel that they have no voice in a world that prefers to ignore their existence and, additionally, as your pastor, I have heard from some of our more conservative members of this congregation, who have shared with me times, that they felt like their voice has not been heard or welcomed, and that's wrong too. So, in this climate where some of us fear speaking out or feel like we've been silenced for numerous reasons, as followers of the Christian faith, as followers of Jesus. Where does this lead us?

Speaker 2:

I believe that in this noisy world that's filled with shouting and arguing and commotion, it's essential not only to seek the correct answers, but also to ask the right questions, and these are some of the questions that your pastor has been asking himself of late. When I hear so many voices filling the room, whose voices remain silent? And is that silence voluntary or is it coerced? When a specific cultural noise dominates the discussion, is it being used to distract me from something else, from a place that the powers that be don't want my attention to be directed at? I also ask myself the question did I shout when I should have listened? And, conversely, I ask myself have I remained silent when I should have spoken up? Where are the voices of Hosanna save me surrounding me, the voices pleading for help? And finally, I ask myself, if I choose not to speak up, or if I choose not to say Hosanna, save me, or us or them, who else is going to speak up? I don't have any easy answers to those questions, but I do think that they deserve our thoughtful reflection.

Speaker 2:

Holy Week offers us an opportunity for prayerful curiosity. The stories we will explore together this week have a beautiful blend of silence and celebration. Yes, there's a lively buzz both today and on Easter Sunday. I also invite you to join our neighbors at Fellowship Prez for our joint services. In between, as I mentioned, we'll gather here on Thursday at six o'clock for that service, followed by a free dinner, and then at the same time on Friday at Fellowship. I really do hope you'll join us for those gatherings, either in person or online. Both of them will be live streamed. For those gatherings, either in person or online. Both of them will be live streamed, because if you only attend Palm Sunday, if we only attend on Easter Sunday, we miss out on some of the quieter moments woven into this special time as we experience the joy of singing the energetic shouts of Hosanna and the waving of palms and the joyful hallelujahs.

Speaker 2:

But let's not forget that Holy Week isn't just about celebration. It's also about reflection. We must not overlook the profound silence in the stories that unfold in between. There's the silence of the upper room as the disciples watched with bated breath while Christ broke the bread and poured the cup, reminding them and us of the sacrifice and service required to be Jesus' follower. There's a silence that follows the worship services on Maundy, thursday and Good Friday, which are filled with quiet contemplation rather than the triumphant organ music, reminding us of the places in the world where not everything is filled with joyful hosannas or hallelujahs. There's a silence that envelops the Garden of Gethsemane as Jesus heals the wounded ear of the Roman soldier injured by one of his followers, reminding us of the places in the world where Jesus calls us to put away our swords. There's the silence of Peter's denial, reminding us of the times when we choose convenience and safety over justice for our neighbors. And finally, there's the silence of the cross, when God himself dies in an act of political violence, reminding us of the places in our world that still cry out for peace and wholeness. As we ponder these things and journey in faith to the places of shouting, the areas of silence and the space in between, I pray that we be mindful of God's presence throughout. When the crowds shout their hosannas, god is there Wherever the oppressed cry out for justice. God is there In the places where mercy feels lost and righteousness seems a naive concept. God is there, and yes, even and especially in the stillness and the silence of death itself, god is there too.

Speaker 2:

Palm Sunday is a profound reminder of the political reality of Jesus's life, death and resurrection. Make no, no mistake the first Palm Sunday wasn't a procession. It was a peaceful protest. Waving palm branches symbolized Jewish resistance dating back to the Maccabean revolt. So wherever shouts for mercy are heard, there too is Jesus standing, or, or in this case, riding in solidarity. Wherever tables are set that exclude the least of these, jesus is there to flip them. Wherever those same voices have been silenced to protect the powerful and the privileged, jesus reminds us that if we, god's people, do not speak up, the rocks themselves will raise their voice in protest.

Speaker 2:

So as we navigate the shouts and the silences of Holy Week, there's perhaps no better hymn to draw us into that sacred tension than our following hymn by one of my favorite hymn writers, a gentleman that joined the church triumphant a couple years ago, named Thomas Troger. The hymn is called A Cheering, chanting Dizzy Crowd, and I want to speak for you just a second before we sing it. It's a hymn that was written in 1985, about 40 years ago, in which Troger poetically recalls the drama and the din of that first Palm Sunday protest. The first two stanzas evoke the crowds who have stripped the green trees bare and waved branches in the air. And then these crowds then spread Christ's path with palms and bestowed with royal hymns and psalms.

Speaker 2:

But then take note when you start reading, when we start singing the third stanza, because in that stanza it abruptly shifts to a contrasting scene, when day dims to deepening dark, as the throngs of Palm Sunday give way to the quiet stillness of Jesus's death. Troger warns us against deceiving ourselves in that joyful throng of Palm Sunday, lest we forget that Christ's gaze is not on fame or fortune, power or privilege, but on a cross and the sudden silence it brings. Yet it serves as a loud indictment against the places of injustice in our world. And then the final stanza transitions the narrative from the unfolding of garments along the road to the unfurling of a burial shroud, a song reminder of the journey that we have in between now and Easter Sunday. And so, friends, let us journey with Jesus, in shouting and in silence, to the places he calls us to follow. Let us conclude this sermon by singing our next hymn A Cheering, chanting, dizzy Crowd. Friends, please rise in body or in spirit. ¶¶ the Holy Trinity.

Speaker 3:

The world then to his path, recourse, and as long as he can be still With all your lips and soul, it laid him down to deep in time. The ground began to fade till our eternal, eternal life left from the way. Let's pray before we cause our hearts to set with passing praise. We're like a star that's misty-scarred when Christ has placed his gaze.

Speaker 2:

Instead of arms of my reaching, we redeemer and sustainer. May all of us, god's beloved children, say Amen.