We Love a Parade
March 28, 2010
Palm Sunday – March 28, 2010
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Psalm 118:1, 2, 19-29; Luke 19:28-40
It’s very hard for us to experience this Gospel story as it was first experienced — we know that Easter is next Sunday, and we know what has to happen before Easter. So for us, there is a certain irony in the Palm Sunday story, a certain poignancy… a wish that Jesus really could ride into the city of Jerusalem in triumph, and that the fullness of the Kingdom of God would follow.
However, it is not just in retrospect that there is irony. There was irony in the moment, too. For there were two parades that day, according to Marcus Borg and Dominick Crossan in their book, The Last Week. Not only did Jesus enter Jerusalem, but there was a bigger, more impressive parade in which Pilate entered Jerusalem, as was his custom around the major Jewish festivals such a Passover. For during such a festival, Jews would come to Jerusalem from all over the world – not only the hinterlands of Judah, but also from other countries. It was important to come to Jerusalem, for that was the site of the temple, the only temple, and so religious Jews came to Jerusalem for the major holidays. Jerusalem was an occupied city, occupied by the Romans, and knowing there would be an influx of faithful Jews, the Romans routinely bolstered their forces at such holidays, to prevent insurrection.
As Jesus came into town, being cheered by those who hoped that he would embody power in such a way as to restore Jerusalem’s independence, Pilate rode into town in a parade that ensured no one would be in doubt about the capabilities of Roman imperial power. So there was, indeed, something ironic about this humble ride – one man on a donkey, a marked contrast to the military procession entering another gate of the city. By the way, speaking of gates – the photo on the front of the bulletin (and attached) is of one of the gates of Jerusalem: the Golden Gate, as seen through the olive branches in the Garden of Gethsemane – where Jesus would pray during his last night, before being arrested.
Luke’s Gospel account, if we read it closely, challenges some of the ideas we may have held about the death of Jesus. First of all, none of the Gospels describe the death of Jesus as a sacrifice to take the place of our being punished for sin. That understanding, which some folks see as being the heart of Christianity, did not come until 1,000 years after the death of Jesus. So let it go. Jesus did not die in your place, Jesus did not die in my place. Something else was going on.
Secondly, just to point out a mildly interesting little detail – there are no palms in Luke’s account of the procession into Jerusalem. No palms, no branches, no green leaves from the field. I only point this out because we tend to see what we expect to see. It’s Palm Sunday, so most of you may have heard the reading as if it mentioned palms. But it didn’t. No palms, no Jesus dying in your place.
What IS there is interesting – and I hadn’t noticed this myself, but one of the marvelous things about preaching the lectionary in the 21st century is that there are many other ministers, all around the world are reflecting on these same passages, and many are sharing their thoughts online. Rev. Peter Woods, a Methodist minister in South Africa, raised the following question: “Why does he accept being called ‘king’ now when Jesus has spent his public ministry avoiding it?” What a great question – and it’s exactly right. Throughout his ministry, Jesus kept a low profile, and yet now, entering Jerusalem, the disciples are crying out “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord…” and Jesus doesn’t stop them.
So why now is it okay? Woods’ answer, and I agree, is that by now, he has spent the prior three years correcting the disciples’ idea of what kingship is. At the beginning of chapter three, Luke begins to tell the story of the adulthood of Jesus. It comes after two chapters detailing his birth and early days, along with an episode from when he was twelve. And although he has laid the groundwork of the origins of Jesus, Luke does not just continue telling the story of Jesus. He interrupts by setting the stage with a contrast between human and divine authority: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. And then, as he tells the story of the ministry of Jesus, Luke repeatedly shows Jesus demonstrating what a king is supposed to do for his people (I’m quoting the Rev. Woods here):
“He has healed the broken and restored them to full participation in community
“He has forgiven those who missed the mark of required ethical and religious standards and included them in his new community.
“He has raised the dead so as to offer social security to those women who would be destitute by the deaths of the men (Lazarus, Widow of Nain)
“He has raised and healed children to break the bondage of bad theology that blamed bad things on parental conditions and culture (Children of Jairus and the Canaanite woman)
“He has been inclusive, unconditionally accepting, and restorative in his words and actions.”
So now that Jesus has shown us what kingship really means, he can accept being called king as he enters Jerusalem. And during the week to come, he will continue to draw contrasts – on Monday, he will criticize the sacrifice-based economy of Jerusalem by overturning the tables of the money changers at the temple. Some contemporary scholars estimate that roughly 85% of the economy of Jerusalem at the time was derived from the sacrifice industry at the temple – it was an economic system that was exploitive and that was supported by exploitive theology that served to maintain the power of the priests. Throughout the prophetic writings, in Isaiah, Jeremiah, Micah, Hosea, and Amos, God has spoken again and again against the sacrificial system. This is, by the way, another reason to reject the theology that says Jesus died as a sacrifice for the sins of humankind – why would God buy into a theology that he had consistently rejected??
So after triumphantly entering the city on Sunday, Jesus attacks the temple authority on Monday. On another day, he was asked the famous question about paying taxes, to which he responds by showing a coin and asking whose image is on it? The listeners respond that it is Caesar’s image, and Jesus answers by saying, “Give then to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” We are made in God’s image, and that would have been commonly understood by Jews at the time – so Jesus has asserted that our highest allegiance is to God, not to Caesar.
And not only is human allegiance properly given to God, but the reign of God is not going to be in the way of human rulers – emperors, Pilate, Herod were all known for the violence with which they maintained control. But as the disciples are calling him king, they are also crying out “Peace in the highest heaven.” Lutheran minister Brian Stoffregen, whose commentary I regularly read, points out that the Gospel of Luke has been describing a kingdom of peace from its beginning when first John’s father Zechariah proclaimed “Guide our feet into the way of peace” and the angels proclaimed at the birth of Jesus: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” Luke also uses the word for peace 14 times in his gospel – the next highest is John’s which only uses it 6 times. Peace is an essential of the kingdom in Luke’s gospel.
No palms, no Jesus dying in your place – God was not perpetuating the sacrificial system, God was ending it. Jesus died because he challenged the violence-based power of the empire, and the social and economic power of the temple, while demonstrating that God’s kingdom was one of radical inclusion and non-violence. Jesus lived a gospel that was grounded in this world: challenging the powers through asserting nonviolence, feeding the poor, welcoming the outcast, healing the sick, and transforming relationships through radical hospitality and forgiveness. Jesus was about making a real difference in this real world — allowing God to transform us, so that we can participate in the transformation God desires for the world.
We love a parade — we love the celebrations and the joy – but Jesus as king also tells us to follow the life he has modeled for us – a gospel of social action in which our spirituality guides and empowers our transformation so that we can effect change in the world. Perhaps this is why the 20th century poet W. H. Auden could say, when asked why he was a Christian and not a Buddhist or Confucian - when both Buddha and Confucius had similar ethical systems as Jesus – “Because only Jesus makes me want to shout “Crucify him!”
We love a parade, but Jesus demands that we honestly face our false gods and relinquish our false selves: we don’t worship a god who merely asks that we worship him, we follow a god who tells us to follow him and be challenged and changed by him, who points out that we can’t worship God and money both, or God and power both, who challenges our attachments again and again, talking more about money than almost anything else, and who calls us also to model peace, a peace that assertively challenges false authority and provides welcome and security to those on the margins. He challenges us not merely to follow God and tolerate others but to love God and love others. He tells those who would be leaders that we must be servants of all. He goes to his death living this way, and asks us to be willing to do the same. No wonder we killed him – if we take him seriously, all our idols fall. He scares us. He asks us to engage our faith not only for our own inner peace but for a just peace in the world. And he does it all for love of God’s world and us, God’s children, and it is this love that calls us to respond, to worship, to love and follow him. And it is only in a world bathed in such love that his kingdom can be seen. May we see with kingdom eyes, and may we follow – challenging the powers and transforming relationships still, so that God’s love might be experienced and lived in the kingdom today. Amen.
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Psalm 118:1, 2, 19-29; Luke 19:28-40
It’s very hard for us to experience this Gospel story as it was first experienced — we know that Easter is next Sunday, and we know what has to happen before Easter. So for us, there is a certain irony in the Palm Sunday story, a certain poignancy… a wish that Jesus really could ride into the city of Jerusalem in triumph, and that the fullness of the Kingdom of God would follow.
However, it is not just in retrospect that there is irony. There was irony in the moment, too. For there were two parades that day, according to Marcus Borg and Dominick Crossan in their book, The Last Week. Not only did Jesus enter Jerusalem, but there was a bigger, more impressive parade in which Pilate entered Jerusalem, as was his custom around the major Jewish festivals such a Passover. For during such a festival, Jews would come to Jerusalem from all over the world – not only the hinterlands of Judah, but also from other countries. It was important to come to Jerusalem, for that was the site of the temple, the only temple, and so religious Jews came to Jerusalem for the major holidays. Jerusalem was an occupied city, occupied by the Romans, and knowing there would be an influx of faithful Jews, the Romans routinely bolstered their forces at such holidays, to prevent insurrection.
As Jesus came into town, being cheered by those who hoped that he would embody power in such a way as to restore Jerusalem’s independence, Pilate rode into town in a parade that ensured no one would be in doubt about the capabilities of Roman imperial power. So there was, indeed, something ironic about this humble ride – one man on a donkey, a marked contrast to the military procession entering another gate of the city. By the way, speaking of gates – the photo on the front of the bulletin (and attached) is of one of the gates of Jerusalem: the Golden Gate, as seen through the olive branches in the Garden of Gethsemane – where Jesus would pray during his last night, before being arrested.
Luke’s Gospel account, if we read it closely, challenges some of the ideas we may have held about the death of Jesus. First of all, none of the Gospels describe the death of Jesus as a sacrifice to take the place of our being punished for sin. That understanding, which some folks see as being the heart of Christianity, did not come until 1,000 years after the death of Jesus. So let it go. Jesus did not die in your place, Jesus did not die in my place. Something else was going on.
Secondly, just to point out a mildly interesting little detail – there are no palms in Luke’s account of the procession into Jerusalem. No palms, no branches, no green leaves from the field. I only point this out because we tend to see what we expect to see. It’s Palm Sunday, so most of you may have heard the reading as if it mentioned palms. But it didn’t. No palms, no Jesus dying in your place.
What IS there is interesting – and I hadn’t noticed this myself, but one of the marvelous things about preaching the lectionary in the 21st century is that there are many other ministers, all around the world are reflecting on these same passages, and many are sharing their thoughts online. Rev. Peter Woods, a Methodist minister in South Africa, raised the following question: “Why does he accept being called ‘king’ now when Jesus has spent his public ministry avoiding it?” What a great question – and it’s exactly right. Throughout his ministry, Jesus kept a low profile, and yet now, entering Jerusalem, the disciples are crying out “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord…” and Jesus doesn’t stop them.
So why now is it okay? Woods’ answer, and I agree, is that by now, he has spent the prior three years correcting the disciples’ idea of what kingship is. At the beginning of chapter three, Luke begins to tell the story of the adulthood of Jesus. It comes after two chapters detailing his birth and early days, along with an episode from when he was twelve. And although he has laid the groundwork of the origins of Jesus, Luke does not just continue telling the story of Jesus. He interrupts by setting the stage with a contrast between human and divine authority: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. And then, as he tells the story of the ministry of Jesus, Luke repeatedly shows Jesus demonstrating what a king is supposed to do for his people (I’m quoting the Rev. Woods here):
“He has healed the broken and restored them to full participation in community
“He has forgiven those who missed the mark of required ethical and religious standards and included them in his new community.
“He has raised the dead so as to offer social security to those women who would be destitute by the deaths of the men (Lazarus, Widow of Nain)
“He has raised and healed children to break the bondage of bad theology that blamed bad things on parental conditions and culture (Children of Jairus and the Canaanite woman)
“He has been inclusive, unconditionally accepting, and restorative in his words and actions.”
So now that Jesus has shown us what kingship really means, he can accept being called king as he enters Jerusalem. And during the week to come, he will continue to draw contrasts – on Monday, he will criticize the sacrifice-based economy of Jerusalem by overturning the tables of the money changers at the temple. Some contemporary scholars estimate that roughly 85% of the economy of Jerusalem at the time was derived from the sacrifice industry at the temple – it was an economic system that was exploitive and that was supported by exploitive theology that served to maintain the power of the priests. Throughout the prophetic writings, in Isaiah, Jeremiah, Micah, Hosea, and Amos, God has spoken again and again against the sacrificial system. This is, by the way, another reason to reject the theology that says Jesus died as a sacrifice for the sins of humankind – why would God buy into a theology that he had consistently rejected??
So after triumphantly entering the city on Sunday, Jesus attacks the temple authority on Monday. On another day, he was asked the famous question about paying taxes, to which he responds by showing a coin and asking whose image is on it? The listeners respond that it is Caesar’s image, and Jesus answers by saying, “Give then to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” We are made in God’s image, and that would have been commonly understood by Jews at the time – so Jesus has asserted that our highest allegiance is to God, not to Caesar.
And not only is human allegiance properly given to God, but the reign of God is not going to be in the way of human rulers – emperors, Pilate, Herod were all known for the violence with which they maintained control. But as the disciples are calling him king, they are also crying out “Peace in the highest heaven.” Lutheran minister Brian Stoffregen, whose commentary I regularly read, points out that the Gospel of Luke has been describing a kingdom of peace from its beginning when first John’s father Zechariah proclaimed “Guide our feet into the way of peace” and the angels proclaimed at the birth of Jesus: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” Luke also uses the word for peace 14 times in his gospel – the next highest is John’s which only uses it 6 times. Peace is an essential of the kingdom in Luke’s gospel.
No palms, no Jesus dying in your place – God was not perpetuating the sacrificial system, God was ending it. Jesus died because he challenged the violence-based power of the empire, and the social and economic power of the temple, while demonstrating that God’s kingdom was one of radical inclusion and non-violence. Jesus lived a gospel that was grounded in this world: challenging the powers through asserting nonviolence, feeding the poor, welcoming the outcast, healing the sick, and transforming relationships through radical hospitality and forgiveness. Jesus was about making a real difference in this real world — allowing God to transform us, so that we can participate in the transformation God desires for the world.
We love a parade — we love the celebrations and the joy – but Jesus as king also tells us to follow the life he has modeled for us – a gospel of social action in which our spirituality guides and empowers our transformation so that we can effect change in the world. Perhaps this is why the 20th century poet W. H. Auden could say, when asked why he was a Christian and not a Buddhist or Confucian - when both Buddha and Confucius had similar ethical systems as Jesus – “Because only Jesus makes me want to shout “Crucify him!”
We love a parade, but Jesus demands that we honestly face our false gods and relinquish our false selves: we don’t worship a god who merely asks that we worship him, we follow a god who tells us to follow him and be challenged and changed by him, who points out that we can’t worship God and money both, or God and power both, who challenges our attachments again and again, talking more about money than almost anything else, and who calls us also to model peace, a peace that assertively challenges false authority and provides welcome and security to those on the margins. He challenges us not merely to follow God and tolerate others but to love God and love others. He tells those who would be leaders that we must be servants of all. He goes to his death living this way, and asks us to be willing to do the same. No wonder we killed him – if we take him seriously, all our idols fall. He scares us. He asks us to engage our faith not only for our own inner peace but for a just peace in the world. And he does it all for love of God’s world and us, God’s children, and it is this love that calls us to respond, to worship, to love and follow him. And it is only in a world bathed in such love that his kingdom can be seen. May we see with kingdom eyes, and may we follow – challenging the powers and transforming relationships still, so that God’s love might be experienced and lived in the kingdom today. Amen.