Palm/Passion Sunday; Rev. Dr. Dennis Winkleblack
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Rev. Dr. Dennis Winkleblack
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
March 29, 2015
Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, Year B
Mark 11:1-11, Isaiah 50:4-9a, Psalm 31:9-16, Philippians 2:5-11 , Mark 14:1-15:47
Today is an unusual day in the church. From a gospel of jubilant beginnings with palm branches and hosannas aplenty to the concluding portion of our worship where we witness the sad account of Jesus’ trial, and the lasting remembrance of that sacred head wounded. It’s an unusual, mysterious day.
But, then, long ago it was an unusual, mysterious week: from palms on the first day to a crown of thorns on the 6th; hosannas to curses; king to criminal; seeming triumph to seeming tragedy.
It was an unusual, mysterious week – a week we now call Holy Week.
To the average member of the crowd welcoming Jesus to Jerusalem on that first day of the week long ago, his entry from the east through the Garden of Gethsemane was clearly a day of high celebration, anticipation and hope. Palm branches were waved, coats were thrown into the street like patchwork red carpets, in imitation of the same royal festal procession held for Israel’s kings in the past.
What is less well known to us, though starkly obvious to every member of the crowd, is that the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate had recently, maybe even no more than a day before, maybe even the same day, also entered Jerusalem. He, however, came from the west having arrived from Caesarea Maritima.
And why was he visiting? Because it was Passover Week. His bottom line purpose was to shore up the garrison on the Temple Mount, and, no less, to remind the throngs of Jews who had come from all over Israel just who was in charge.
The pomp must have been tremendous. Imagine it: Pilate on horseback at the head of a large contingent of soldiers all armed to the teeth wearing heavy armor while other soldiers beat drums whose sounds reverberated loudly among Jerusalem’s limestone structures. You couldn’t have missed it; you couldn’t have slept through it. It had become an annual affair, but always memorable.
So, as I was saying, maybe the same day, but no later than a day or so after Pilate’s entry, here came Jesus. But, note the contrast: Instead of a stallion, Jesus rides a young donkey. Instead of being accompanied by armed soldiers and loud drums, Jesus has only a crowd cheering “Hosanna!” Meaning, “save us!”
It was Pilate and the glory of the world’s most powerful empire, Rome, vs Jesus and some common folk. It was Pilate and Rome with their crushing heartless, violent oppression of the Jewish population vs Jesus. Jesus of non-violence, of gracious self-giving even towards enemies; Jesus of strength through weakness; Jesus who taught reconciliation rather than humiliation and intimidation. Jesus who would soon put an exclamation point on everything he taught by choosing to suffer rather than inflict suffering.
It was Pilate and Rome and kingdom as usual. Versus Jesus and just folks and God’s radically different kind of empire.
So, although they didn’t say it aloud, those who lined the street into Jerusalem witnessing Jesus’ Palm Sunday entrance had to be thinking: So let the games begin!
Now, it’s helpful to our understanding of the world Jesus inhabited to know that he was hardly the first messianic challenge to Rome, even since BCE became CE. Other would-be saviors of Israel before Jesus had come forth and failed. For example, a Pharisee named Judas of Gamala in around 6 CE received a lot of attention for teaching others to withhold their tributes, taxes, from Rome. He taught that they had no master but God. So far so good, right?
However, this Judas was persuaded by other Pharisees not to push it too far lest a military battle ensue. So, he sort of walked back the radical parts of what he had been saying. As a result, nothing more came of his efforts.
So, would Jesus be just another mis-fire? I suspect most of the people must have said, who knows? Maybe yes, maybe no. However, as far as the average onlooker was concerned, it looked to be at least interesting: as long as we don’t get too close to him in case bad things happen. Palm Sunday. Can’t hurt. Let’s see what he’s got.
This was Sunday. On Monday, according to Mark’s gospel, Jesus entered the temple area and kicked out all the buyers and sellers. Needless to say, this did not go over well with the religious authorities. Now, if not before, Jesus was royally ticking off the keepers of religion and its traditions.
Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, according to Mark, he was interacting with the people in the temple area and drawing big crowds. Here he really stepped into it big time with the Romans with his “render unto Caesar those things that are Caesar’s and unto God those things that are God’s.” Caesar you see was considered Rome’s God. The one they called Lord and even Savior years before anyone thought to call Jesus Lord or Savior.
Jesus, though, just wouldn’t keep quiet. Jesus refused to go along to get along. Unlike Judas of Gamala, he would not compromise.
The handwriting, as it were, was on the wall. Such that, after a last supper with his closest followers, when Judas returned leading a bunch of soldiers and planted a kiss on Jesus’ cheek marking him as the one to be arrested, the crowds began to pull back. This was not going well.
And you know the rest of the story. All deserted him. Even Peter, who when questioned, said, “I don’t know that guy.” Jesus’ first or second best friend Peter said, “I don’t know that guy, are you kidding?”
Now, if I could advise Jesus about what he could have done differently that last week – and I’m aware this is a bold way to begin a sentence – if I could advise Jesus about what he could have done differently that last week to encourage the crowd not to run away, it would be to suggest that he tell them in ways they could fully understand that Sunday was coming. To hang in.
In other words, I know it looks like we’re losing at the moment, but there’s a great plan for the last inning.
Only I’m not sure Jesus knew about the last inning plan either. His plea on the cross to God begging an answer to the question “why have you forsaken me?” suggests he didn’t know, or at the least, had a doubt or two.
Which I think makes his faithfulness unto death all the more remarkable. Makes his love for God and his devotion to God’s way all the more amazing and inspiring and engaging and him more approachable and his gospel more believable for the generations to follow. Jesus apparently didn’t know exactly how doing what he knew God wanted would end. But he did it anyway.
This friends, is no mythic God story, where heroes never question their fate, where heroes never suffer. This is real. As real as your breathing now. As real as your pain. And, also, as real as your greatest hope.
Now comes something scary. Do you remember Paul in the letter to the Philippians read earlier encouraging these first Christians to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus?”
I can only wonder how you hear that? It sounds, on the one hand, like a marvelous suggestion in, I don’t know, July, when we’re dwelling on the joys of faith or something.
On the other hand, this week, it may not appeal so much. It sounds very much like a prescription for death considering where the mind of Christ got Jesus.
So, what to make of “The mind of Christ” during Holy Week?
At the least, we need to remember that Holy Week is a microcosm of the whole of Jesus’ passion, of God’s passion for the world. This week isn’t a tacked on season to an otherwise interesting life. This week isn’t about a pre-programmed series of events that would lead to a button-downed doctrine centuries later. It’s about a God for whom no detail of existence is too small, including the consequences of politics and religion.
This week is about a God of the thus and so, the molecules and not just the mountains. This week is about the way that leads to God’s aim for an evolving creation, not about short-term strategies. This week is about spending, even losing one’s life for God’s sake, not trying to preserve status quo. This week is about un-comfort zones, not comfort zones.
This week is about the unity of all things instead of splitting reality into artificial categories of spiritual and physical, religious and secular.
Going forward, this week is about continuing to hope in God, to trust in God when we’ve done the right thing, the honorable thing, the just thing, and are paying the price for it. This week is about what happens when in our blessed humanness we question if this Jesus way of life is worth it. When, even when, we question if we’ve chosen the right God. When, even when, we doubt that maybe we just shouldn’t have gone ahead and compromised, backed off, eased up, let sleeping dogs lie. When we wonder, in the solitariness of 3 o’clock in the morning, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
God knows, it takes Jesus style courage for human beings to live out the mind of Christ in the day to day.
And God knows it takes Jesus style courage to face the darkness that attends the human situation and which threatens hope.
And God also knows, as the fearful Palm Sunday crowds demonstrated in their running away, such Jesus-style courage is, in fact, beyond the likes of us.
Unless.
Unless we were to know that Sunday is coming.
Thanks be to God.