In Jesus’ first appearance to his disciples, as described in today’s Gospel, Jesus sends the disciples, and all who follow him: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Jesus speaks to us here: we the Church are a “sent people,” sent to participate in God’s mission, that is, God’s purposes and activity for all of humanity. Like Jesus was sent to Israel, we are sent to witness to our world of the boundless love of God, and to offer an alternative way of living based on that love.

The story of Easter reveals that the world has begun a new day. The darkness of the Crucifixion has opened into the light of Easter. Like the dawn that gradually opened to the disciples on the first Easter morning, we slowly begin to see what the light of faith reveals. Death will not have the final word, because Christ is risen and we will share in his resurrection. Injustice and suffering will not continue forever, because God’s victory over sin has begun, and will be completed when Christ returns.

One of the best ways to remember something truly important is to set it to music. It can be easily recalled and sung by heart and passed on. As you focus on the scriptures for Palm Sunday, it might be helpful to think of them as past, present, and future versions of the same story. In Isaiah, we hear one of four hymns referring to the “Suffering Servant” that paints a poignant picture prefiguring Jesus’ crucifixion.

Isaiah prophesies for the Lord: “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!” One of the most dangerous things that we can do is get stuck in our old ways. As individuals, as parishes, as I nations we can say, “We’ve always done it that way,” and miss calls to growth and change. Throughout this Lent and our lives, God continues to call us to life, and we should celebrate that!

Who knew that when Moses led the Israelites out of slavery it would mean forty years of wandering in the desert before they were able to enter the Promised Land? Many of us experience periods of wandering in our life. Perhaps we made some poor judgment calls in our younger days, or maybe as adult children we returned home to live because of struggling with substance abuse, or unemployment, or a divorce. Or maybe we fell away from Church for a bit. This is nothing new.

Elizabeth Barret Browning wrote, “Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees, takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.” We are challenged today to experience the mystery of God with the image of Moses and the burning bush—a God who answers all questions in a simple, bold manner. Like an exasperated parent telling a child “Because I said so,” God tells Moses “I am who I am,” and “tell the Israelites I AM sent me to you.” God may as well have said, “Save all your questions, and trust in me. Quit being so stubborn.”

We can imagine the splendor of the Transfiguration in our Gospel, and in a manner similar to the Baptism of the Lord, we hear the voice of God booming down announcing Jesus the Son. It is another of the great epiphanies. But if you think about it, each reading this weekend has a sort of “Aha” moment to it. A moment of mutual commitment, of trust. In Genesis, God makes a covenant with Abram, promising him descendants numerous as the stars in the sky.

Face it, the last couple of years have worn us all down. Sometimes we don’t know how to pray, or we don’t seem to find the words we want. It is easy to falter and waver. Lent is a time to get back to the basics. There is much hope and strength in our readings as we begin our Lenten journey. The letter to the Romans tells us today that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved,” and this is an idea we hear throughout the scriptures.

As we approach the season of Lent, Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians gives us a sneak peek of Easter, waiting for us on the other side: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” Paul’s conclusion, telling us to remain steadfast and devoted to the Lord’s work, could serve as a Lenten motto. The reading from Sirach provides a series of adages regarding discipline of the tongue, and of our speech. Maybe not a bad Lenten practice to observe.

It’s likely that some friends or followers of Jesus told him, from time to time, to “get real” when his teachings seemed too hard or impractical. John’s Gospel, near the end of the Bread of Life discourse, reports that some disciples out and out turned away because it was too hard to continue following Jesus. When Jesus said to love our enemies, pray for those who hurt us, or do good for those who hate us, the response, “get real,” wouldn’t be surprising. And yet, the very life and witness of Jesus is filled with his prophetic examples of doing just that; of refusing to return harm for harm. The lives of the saints are likewise filled with such examples, especially those saints who were laborers in the field for justice and peace. Is this command of Jesus difficult? Yes. Is it impossible? No.

Today we hear once again of the deep connection between Jesus and Israel’s prophets. In the reading from Jeremiah, God's curses at the opening are counterbalanced by God's blessings in the second part. In Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, Jesus begins with blessings, then counterbalances with a “woe” section. The point is clear: the way we live our lives has a direct connection to whether we will experience curses and woes, or blessings instead.

Isn’t it comforting to know that others have struggles with low self-esteem? Today Isaiah calls himself a man with “unclean lips.” Paul is “not fit to be called an apostle.” Simon Peter tells Jesus (perhaps unnecessarily) “I am a sinful man.” All of these may be true, but God chose these three— unclean, unfit, sinful—as important, essential messengers in the work of salvation. We all can remember this whenever we are tempted to view ourselves as unqualified for (or excuse ourselves from) sharing the Good News.