O God, grant us the will to change the things we
cannot accept, the peace to accept the things we cannot change, and the wisdom
to know the difference ☩
in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Palm
Sunday, and really all of Holy Week, is a day of contradictions. When it comes
to the story of Jesus’ Passion, left is right and down is up. It can be a
disorienting, confusing, and downright absurd that somehow at the end of a
story about betrayal, brutality, and death that we arrive at the salvation of
our souls and the redemption of all Creation. These holy contradictions though
are not problems to solve or an equation to balance; instead, they are the
mystery of our salvation.
Starting
with the entry into Jerusalem, we see these contradictions at play. The week
surrounding the Passover was always a contentious time in Jerusalem. Jews from
around Israel would come to Jerusalem to gather for worship and make their
sacrifices – but in their memory was God’s saving event of liberating them from
slavery under Pharaoh in Egypt. And if God could overthrow Pharaoh, it was
legitimate to wonder if perhaps this might the year when God overthrows Caesar
and liberates them from Roman occupation.
To
quell these hopes of insurrection, each Passover week Pontus Pilate would lead
a military parade full of soldiers in shining armor riding noble steeds and
dragging along prisoners in chains. It was a not so subtle message – don’t get
any stupid ideas. The contradiction is in the parade that we commemorated
earlier in our liturgy. It was a parade not with soldiers or armor, but one
where people took off their cloaks and spread them on the ground. And riding
into town was not a high ranking government official, but a poor prophet from
Galilee, who was riding not a warhorse, but a lowly donkey.
Embedded
within this Palm Sunday narrative is the contrast between worldly power and
Godly power. The world’s version of power is rooted in fear, in strength, in
domination; it’s power over. God’s power is different, it’s vulnerable, loving,
and humble. The sort of power that Jesus shows is the power that comes from
proximity to God, the source of all true power. That’s the first contradiction:
worldly power versus Godly power.
The
next contradiction comes in the Gospel reading that bridges the triumphal entry
and the Passion reading. As you may know, it’s fairly standard to read Passion
in the middle of the Palm Sunday liturgy, where the Gospel is typically read. However,
I’ve chosen to exercise some liturgical flexibility and move the Passion to the
end of the liturgy. This is for a few reasons. For one, having the Passion read
at the end of the liturgy allows it to serve as a frame for the rest of Holy
Week as we depart from church. Another reason is that the Passion narrative is
really long, and I think it’s actually more helpful for me to comment on it
before it is read so that we might listen with a greater focus. And, what was
read at the Gospel is what happens immediately after the Palm Sunday entry, and
it helps us to fill in the gap between the contradictory shouts “Hosanna” and “Crucify
him!”
That
is the basis for the next contradiction that we run into. You’ll notice that if
Jesus was planning an overthrow of the Roman government, he didn’t have a good
strategy. Next door to the Temple was the large Roman armory. It allowed the
Romans to keep an eye on what was going on at the Temple and respond swiftly if
things got out of hand. But Jesus’ procession doesn’t go to the armory but
rather the Temple. And when he arrives, he begins to critique what is going on
there, saying “My house shall be a house of prayer; but you have made it a den
of robbers.” The contradiction here is between the Messiah we want and the Messiah
that we get.
We
think we know what we need salvation from and how to get it, but when Jesus
shatters that illusion, the people turn on him quickly, as Luke notes that “the
leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him.” I just finished
reading a fantastic book called Seculosity
that has a great subtitle: “How Career, Parenting, Technology, Food, Politics,
and Romance Became Our New Religion and What to Do about It.” The thesis of the
book is that though you have may have heard that Americans are less religious
than ever, that’s simply not true. The author claims that Americans are
actually more religious than ever, that we are never not in church. The twist
is that religion is no longer confined to beliefs about God and churches are no
longer only buildings with stained glass, but schools, board rooms, and fitness
clubs have become places where we seek validation, meaning, and even salvation.
This
is what Jesus critiques – all of the coping mechanisms, ideas, and institutions
that we’ve put our trust in instead of God’s mercy. Jesus isn’t against the
Temple, he’s against the way that Temple has become transactional. Faith has
become compartmentalized instead of the guiding light of our lives. We’re no
different from that crowd that shouted “Crucify him,” as we reject Jesus all
the time. Faith is about how you live, how you eat, how you make and spend
money, how you vote, how you speak, how you use your time, how you see yourself
and others. But we’d rather it not be so pervasive. It’d be far easier to have
a Messiah who takes care of our problems instead of one who reminds us that we
are the problem.
When
Jesus enters the city, he refuses to go to the armory, but he goes to the heart
of the matter – to our hearts that have been corrupted by sin. That’s the second
contradiction that we see, that Jesus is the Messiah we need, not the one we
wanted.
Then
in the Passion narrative, there are numerous contradictions; but I want to
focus on one that is found throughout the story and that is the contradiction between
perception and reality. When the Passion is read, you’ll hear that the charges that
people are eventually able to come up with are that Jesus is perverting the
nation, forbidding the people to pay taxes, and saying that he is the Messiah.
Pilate will even admit that there is no basis for the charge that Jesus has
perverted the nation. Which is ironic, as that’s what the people claimed the
Roman occupation was doing.
Then they accuse Jesus of
preventing them from paying taxes. Can you imagine complaining that your
accountant found an extra deduction for you to claim on your tax return? That
doesn’t make today, and it didn’t then either. And there is the charge that he
claimed to be a king, which is a claim Jesus never actually made. Yet, he is
given that title of “King of the Jews” when he is on the Cross.
And it is on the Cross
where we see the greatest contradiction yet. Jesus is crucified as a criminal,
an enemy of the state. But the inscription above his head declares his kingship
for all the world and history to see. Our brutality is met with God’s tender
love and is thereby transformed into Jesus’ enthronement; Rome’s cross has
become God’s throne. It goes back to the earlier contradiction about power. But
it’s also a contradiction between perception and reality. Imagine a homeless
man being wrongfully accused of a capital offense and being executed and then
saying “there’s the Savior of the world.” It’s preposterous. And it’s also a reminder
to never assume to know what God is up to. Remember that no matter how dark it
gets, the story is not over until God says that it is.
These contradictions are
not to be smoothed over or explained away. Instead, it is the tension that
these holy contradictions create which form the crucible in which our salvation
is forged. The reading that we had from Philippians helps us to hold these
contradictions together instead of trying to resolve them. Scholars believe
that St. Paul is quoting a hymn when he writes that Jesus “emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave, and humbled himself and became obedient to the
point of death. Therefore God highly exalted him.” There are more contradictions,
by emptying himself, Jesus is filled with God’s glory; by being made low, he is
lifted up. I can’t explain to you how this works, but I can testify that it
does because of the holiest contradiction of all, that Jesus is God incarnate,
both human and divine.
In Holy Week, our
salvation is on display before us and it is full of contradictions. On Good
Friday, we’ll have the contradiction of our guilt being wiped away by the only
innocent person this world has ever known. And by the time we get to Easter, we’ll
have the contradiction of new life coming after death.
As we heard in the hymn
from Philippians, these contradictions are held in healthy tension by humble
obedience. Let that be your posture this week. Give yourself over to the holy
contradictions of your salvation. Don’t worry about understanding Holy Week,
but come and experience it. From a place of humility, recognize your need for a
Savior and glory in the fact that God saves us all through the events of this
week. From a place of obedience to the one at whose name every knee should
bend, devote yourself to coming to the liturgies of Holy Week, that you might
encounter the holy contradictions of God’s saving grace.
