Lectionary Readings & Additional Gospel
Almighty God, guide us to seek your truth, come when it may, cost what it will, and lead where it might. Amen.
Saint Paul writes, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.” Scholars generally think that he’s quoting one of the earliest creeds or hymns of the Church and it’s about contrasts. On the one hand this, and on the other that. It’s about the tension of Jesus’ identity as both God and human. In this most trying of weeks, which path will he walk?
Well, as the hymn continues and as we know, “he became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.” It is true for Jesus, for the disciples, and for us – Holy Week is a week of contrasts that demand a choice from us.
The first set of contrasts was found in the Liturgy of the Palms. As Jesus approached Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, a crowd assembled and spread their cloaks and branches on the ground as Jesus processed into the city on a donkey. It must have been quite the scene – a crowd, a parade, and shouts of “Hosanna” – a prayer that means “Save us!” Matthew notes that “the whole city was in the turmoil.” The word for “turmoil” in Greek where we get our word “seismic.” The whole city was trembling; the very foundations of the city were shifting.
And reason for this turmoil is that Jesus’ parade was not the only one happening in Jerusalem in the week of Passover. Passover is a massive pilgrimage festival. Scholars tell us that the usual population of Jerusalem in the 1st-century was 30,000, but at Passover that number swelled to over 150,000. And those pilgrims all had one thing on their mind: freedom. The Passover is the remembrance of how God led the Jewish people out of slavery in Egypt by defeating Pharoah’s army at the Red Sea. If God did it then, why not now?
Israel was an occupied territory at this point in history. Political oppression, economic exploitation, and religious idolatry were infecting the Promised Land, and the people of Israel were fed up with it. And so, every year at Passover, Pontus Pilate would make his way from his palace on the coast inland to Jerusalem to keep an eye on things. He would arrive with much fanfare – horse mounted soldiers, more soldiers marching in armor, and likely some political prisoners being dragged in chains. Pilate was sending a clear message: “I know this week is some special holiday for your people, I know you have fantasies about getting rid of Roman rule, I know you are waiting for a Messiah to save you. But don’t get any ideas – I’ve got an army waiting to crush you.” And about four decades later, that’s exactly what Rome did in response to an insurrection – they destroyed the Temple and a good portion of the city.
So the first contrast is found in these two parades. The parade of the status quo, of imperial power, of might makes right, and the humble, prayerful, and hopeful parade of Jesus. I wonder which parade we belong to?
The next contrast is found in the Gospel text. Jesus’ parade had a destination. Though most people thought and hoped his parade would go to the Antonia Fortress, the Roman military headquarters in Jerusalem, Jesus instead goes right to the Temple, driving out those who were promoting a transactional instead of transformational faith.
The contrast is around how we receive new understandings. In Holy Week, we have to be very careful about anti-Jewish, antisemitic stereotypes, which are both lazy and inaccurate. This isn’t, at all, to say that the religion of the Temple was bad and the faith of Jesus is the solution. No, we find this tension still in Christianity today, probably even within our pews.
The tension is evident in the reaction of those chief priests who are afraid about what this seismic shift might mean for them and the reaction of the children who are singing the song they heard their parents singing – “Hosanna to the Son of David!” When God leads us into a new situation, confronts us with a truth that challenges our assumptions, or has us to rethink our deeply held convictions, do we respond with cautious reticence or joyous singing about the new thing God is doing?
A final contrast is found in the hymn from Philippians – though Jesus had status and power, he chose the path of humble service, even to the point of death. Though we may not think of ourselves as powerful, we do have power. The root of the word “power” means “to be able.” Our ability to pray, to comfort those who mourn, to use our voices for justice, to care – these things make us incredibly powerful, especially in a world that tries to lull us into compliance and complacency by making us falsely believe that we are powerless.
This contrast has us to ask the question: how will we use our power? Will our power be used to shout “Hosanna” or “Crucify”? The contrast is between forgiveness and accusation, between celebration and fear, between a posture of openness or rigidity.
The modern-day English priest and poet Malcome Guite wrote sonnet called “Palm Sunday” which helps us to explore all of these contrasts, confronts us with the question of how we will enter into this week which we call “holy,” and how we will let it transform the temple of our hearts–
Now to the gate of my Jerusalem,
The seething holy city of my heart,
The saviour comes. But will I welcome him?
Oh crowds of easy feelings make a start;
They raise their hands, get caught up in the singing,
And think the battle won. Too soon they’ll find
The challenge, the reversal he is bringing
Changes their tune. I know what lies behind
The surface flourish that so quickly fades;
Self-interest, and fearful guardedness,
The hardness of the heart, its barricades,
And at the core, the dreadful emptiness
Of a perverted temple. Jesus come
Break my resistance and make me your home.
Amen.
