PALM SUNDAY

The Sunday of the Passion

March 16, 2008

(Matthew 21:1-11)

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 26:14-27:66

Year A

Palm Sunday is a very odd Sunday. It is called the Sunday of the Passion because the long story of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion, is always told. It begins in expectant hope and ends in horror. It is not an easy Sunday to get through; liturgically or spiritually.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday the people surrounding him were filled with expectation and hope. “Blessed” they cried. “Hosanna”, “Help us, save us!” they shouted. Their thirst for help, for deliverance, was drier than the dust they walked upon. As the procession rounded a bend, all at once there was the great city, ancient and holy, set high upon a hill with its walls, domes, and parapets shimmering in the sunlight.

Actually two processions entered Jerusalem that spring day. One, this peasant procession coming from the east. The other entered Jerusalem from the opposite side of the city. At the head of this procession was Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, with a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers.

Ordinarily Jerusalem had about forty thousand inhabitants, but at Passover the city often swelled to over two hundred thousand. Rome’s extra military presence during times such as Passover did not come about out of any kind of respect for their Jewish subjects. It was the outward sign that one had better think twice before thinking about starting any kind of trouble.

In 4 BC, when revolts erupted against Rome, two thousand defenders were crucified en masse once Rome retook Jerusalem. Though the temple had always been key in religious importance, after that time period Rome chose local rulers from the temple elite. Thus the temple became the central institution of economic and political power in the country. Although nothing was new about Rome’s system of domination, what was new was that now the temple was at the center of collaboration with Rome.

As the gospels tell it Jesus planned this demonstration as a deliberate challenge to the religious authorities. It was no accident he chose to ride into Jerusalem on a donkey. It was the custom that when a king went to war he rode on a horse, but if he came in peace he rode on a donkey. Additionally, those who surrounded Jesus would have known the words from Zechariah, “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious, humble and riding on a donkey.”

For some strange reason the people surrounding Jesus thought, hoped, this might be Israel’s Messiah, the one who would deliver them from all this oppression. It was dangerous thinking. So one of the men stopped the procession and said in an angry voice, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” which meant “make them stop their blaspheming. Quiet them. Disperse the crowd. End this foolishness at once.” In other words ‘don’t allow them to name the truth’.

One procession entered Jerusalem proclaiming the power of the empire while the other proclaimed the kingdom of God. The collision of these two proclamations of truth is what brought about the events that led to what we know as Holy Week.

The prophets were those who spoke the truth. They named injustice for what it was and they named those who brought it for what they were. But prophesy had pretty much died out in Israel by the first century. Speakers of truth had been in short supply for a very long time. John the Baptist had been hailed by his followers as a prophet, but as soon as he named the power brokers and the clergy as a “brood of vipers” Herod had him promptly murdered.

No wonder those unafraid to speak the truth are always in short supply. It was true in the first century and it is just as true in the twenty-first century. So when Jesus comes along, not only unafraid to name the truth, but intentionally walking into the eye of the storm, trouble was bound to erupt.

The religious authorities had become accessories to a domination system that ruled by injustice. God’s passion for justice had been replaced by human injustice. And Jesus simply could not stand it; would not tolerate it. Jesus was anything but passive or complacent. He was on fire with God’s love and God’s truth. That made him trouble from day one; trouble for the empire and trouble for the religious elite.

The story is told of a young convert who approached his bishop and said, “I have heard of a young man who seems to have gained control over large crowds. He advocates breaking the law, claims to perform miracles, and even says he speaks directly to God. He even denounces the rich and members of the clergy.”

The Bishop replied, “I appreciate your willingness to report this. Unfortunately we seem to have more of these people around today than ever before. If he fails to repent of what he is doing we shall have to put him in prison. Of course, we can’t arrest him ourselves, but we do have contacts with the law. Tell me his name and I shall see that he is arrested.”

The convert replied, “I appreciate your zeal in this. I believe he goes by many names, but most people call him Jesus”.

As some of you know, the plight of the priest Fr. Marek Bozek, pastor at St. Stanislaus parish in St. Louis, has weighed on my mind for quite some time. I have often felt the need to reach out to him, but it’s always easier and less dangerous to ignore the ways that God nudges us. And, after all, he’s swimming in troubled waters and I’ve had my fill of troubled waters.

I always thought his struggle with the Archdiocese of St. Louis was only about money - until I saw an article in the Post-Dispatch that revealed much more than that. That sent me to St. Stanislaus’ website where I read the pastor’s statement which pretty much sent me reeling. His courage, his serenity, passion and compassion were absolutely palpable. So much so that I knew I could no longer ignore reaching out to him and did so last Saturday morning in a rather lengthy email. Within an hour he had written me back in an email that I have already shared with some of you.

That evening Fr. Bozek was interviewed on television again. Among other things, he said, ‘History will prove that we are right, I have no doubt about that. But in the short term, (Archbishop Burke) will probably succeed’.

He said it with such calm I thought, ‘This is a man who truly knows what it means to proclaim God’s truth’.

On that first Palm Sunday Pilate’s procession embodied the power, glory, and force, of the empire that ruled the world. Jesus’ procession embodied an alternative reality; the Kingdom of God. Holy Week is about their collision; the time when the most sophisticated religious system of the time aligned itself with the most powerful political empire of the time to crush anyone who dared to question their truth.

So when Jesus did exactly that the outcome was predictable. They struck him down with all the power they had – and it was a ghastly ordeal. Yet, oddly enough, the gospels give the impression that in some mysterious way he is the one who is in charge. In his faithfulness to God’s purposes Jesus put his life on the line, surrendered it into the hands of domination and power, so that we might know that God is always engaged for us.

Holy Week is not a story with a ‘happily ever after’ ending. This is why it is so important that we do not see the events of Holy Week as a Passion play enacted largely by clergy following a script that happened to ‘you know Who’ a long time ago. To see Jesus’ Passion as a ‘once upon a time’ event takes away the power of God to transform our lives now.

For what the cross reveals to us is the fact, the truth, that God’s power is not a coercive power that will force human choices. It reveals that the power of God is the power to pick up the shattered pieces of truth in our lives, transforming them into wholeness and new life. It’s called redemption. This is why we too are called to proclaim, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

AMEN

The Rev. Virginia L. Bennett, D.Min.

St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church

Edwardsville, Illinois