Sunday, March 25, 2018

Palm Sunday Reflection - A Glimpse of My Heart, My Regret, and My Desire to March with Jesus



It is the festival of Passover, one of the most important holidays celebrated by the Jewish people who gather to remember how God passed over their houses instead of killing their firstborn children during their captivity in Egypt.
Jerusalem is overflowing with people as Jews gather for Seder meals and celebrations.
As the Roman governor of Samaria and Judea, Pontius Pilate would leave his seaside estate and travel to Jerusalem for the festival. He does not come because he is particularly religious. Rather, comes to display Rome’s imperial rule and power in the occupied city.
Pontius Pilate rides into the city on top of a horse as high as a Clydesdale featured in a Budweiser commercial.
He is surrounded by shiny swords and other signs of military might.
And the “who’s who” of Jerusalem surround him, including individuals who are ready to put coins in his campaign coffer in exchange for a promise to continue to support whatever resources or rights they want to protect.
Meanwhile, on the other end of Jerusalem, Jesus rides not on top of a war horse but on top of a borrowed borough.
He is riding on a colt.
I imagine his feet are dragging on the ground.
And, he too, has a large crowd following him.
The poor and the powerless are lining the streets shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” “Hosanna” – a word that means “Save us.”
Save us, King Jesus.
It is political theatre at its best – power and humility, rich and poor, warhorses and young donkeys.
Two parades.
Two crowds.
Two purposes.
Jesus is coming face to face with the rulers of the temple and the state – rulers who will crucify him on Friday because nothing is more threatening to an institution than new life.
Nothing is more threatening to power than those considered powerless showing up and demanding change.
While Pilate’s arrival is expected, Jesus’ arrival sends the city into turmoil.
Who is this humble man whose actions proclaim he is the long-awaited messiah?
Who is this individual who is willing to come face to face with the powers and principalities?
Who is this one who can literally shake the way things are into the way things should be?
Who is this?
We know who Pilate is.
Pilate is the one with worldly power and wealth, the one who will do anything to maintain his illusion of control.
But who is Jesus?
He is a king, but not the kind of king to which the world gravitates.
He is a lord, but his lordship is not defined by wielding power over others but by serving them.
He is a leader, but his strongest assets are not his charisma or charm but rather his self-giving acts of compassion and generosity.
Who is this?
How we respond to the question has serious implications for not only our lives but countless other lives in this city and around the world.
Our response to the question dictates which parade we would have joined on this day 2000 years ago and which parade we are likely to join today –  the parade of the powerful who we believe can get us somewhere or at least protect what we have – what we believe we have earned – or the parade of the one who came to save all people with a preferential option for the poor and powerless.
Which parade would you have joined?
Where would you have found yourself that day?
Many of you marched yesterday.
You joined some 800,000 people from across the nation in support of young people who are demanding change.
I watched the rally.
I wept with an 11-year-old prophet from Alexandria and a high school student who used the power of silence better than it’s ever been used before.
But I didn’t march.
My life is often a tightrope as I balance making sure my husband knows I love him as much I love the church. But too often Craig gets the shorter end of the stick. Having been away at a monastery on silent retreat all week, I knew I needed to give Saturday to Craig, and while Craig is the better Christian in our family, he is not a marcher.
I sought to faithfully tend to the covenant of marriage yesterday, one of my calls – and still, I feel deep, deep sadness for not being there.
            Jesus says “Let the children come to me.” Keeping children safe isn’t just right. It’s a matter of faith.
            In the passion narrative, we just heard Jesus ask for swords to be put away – even as others are putting him to death. Working for an end to senseless gun violence isn’t just right. It’s what Jesus, the prince of peace, would demand.
            Seeking a transfer of power from the powerful to the powerless isn’t just the right thing to do at times. It’s why Jesus was crucified.
            There is no doubt in my mind that if Jesus were physically present in Washington this weekend, that he would have felt more at home marching yesterday than he would in many of our sanctuaries today.
            I never again want to miss a march.
            And I never again want to miss an opportunity for us to be united as a congregation while we march.
We all know how seductive Pilate’s power can be.
We regularly put our faith, hope and trust in arrogant, angry leaders who promise a better tomorrow at the expense of those at the bottom.
We vote for who will protect our ideals even if those ideals are not the ones taught and embodied by Jesus.
We can get behind someone who promises to solve today’s problems, especially if their solution benefits us.
On the other hand, putting our faith, hope and trust in one who was crucified for what he stood for can have serious consequences.
It might cost us our pride as we embrace a humility that empties itself.
It might cost us our swords and semi-automatic weapons as we embrace his way of peace.
It might cost us some of our anger as we seek to embody his love.
It might cost us bent up resentment as we seek forgiveness and reconciliation.
In the movie The Shack, Mack asks Jesus, “Do all roads lead to you?” Jesus responds, “No, not at all – most roads don’t lead anywhere.”[1]
But when people march with Jesus, when they follow this crucified and risen savior, then the road might just lead to mercy and justice for all.



[1] http://jameshowellsweeklypreachingnotions.blogspot.com/2017/11/preaching-palm-sunday-march-25.html

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