April 17, 2011

Clay Nelson

Palm Sunday     
Matthew 21:1-11


Today is an anniversary of sorts for me. On Palm Sunday five years ago I put my progressive Christian theology not just on the line but online as well. I preached my first of three sermons reminding us that Jesus was just a man. What made it a little scary is I didn’t just say it to you. It was the first of our iGod podcasts available to anyone anywhere. The text as well went up on our newly inaugurated website. To coin a phrase, “in for a penny, in for a pound.”

It was scary because what I was doing was telling you what scholars have known for decades if not longer but what hadn’t been shared with people in the pews because it “wouldn’t be pastoral” to tell you. Some scholarship contradicted long held doctrines. It might introduce uncertainty into your faith. It might undermine the authority and power of the Church causing disunity. Until that Palm Sunday I had been complicit in the conspiracy of silence. Under a cover of darkness I taught what I knew to the few who might come to a class or who would visit me in my office for a pastoral conversation, but I didn’t preach it in daylight. For me, to do so was the beginning of my Palm Sunday procession into the full disclosure of my passion for a Christian faith that neither offended my intellect nor integrity. Once I got over the shock of having actually done it, I found it liberating. I admit, I was relieved not to be burned at the stake.

To honour my anniversary I want to tell you something you may not know but is your right to know. In your march around the church waving palms and in your participation in the drama of Jesus’ arrest, trial and execution you have just participated in a political demonstration demanding freedom and equality. You have committed an act of insurrection. You are one today with Egyptians who peaceably demanded democracy. You are one with any group in history that has put their bodies on the line against the forces of oppression. 

Let me tell you a little about that first Palm Sunday. It took place just before the Passover. Jesus was just one of many thousands who flocked to Jerusalem to celebrate the core event that makes a Jew a Jew. Passover is a celebration of the Hebrew people’s liberation from slavery in Egypt. To celebrate the Passover meal is to tell a story. But it isn’t just a story. Telling it and acting it out is to become one with the story. They don’t just remember what was done. They become their ancestors. They become the ones who were doing what had been done and acknowledge that it still needs doing. It is an act of insurrection against the powerful systems of domination that we have seen throughout history to the present day. 

On that first Palm Sunday Rome was the political oppressor du jour. Their tax system economically exploited all but the political and religious elite, making the poor poorer and rich richer. And it was all legitimized by religion. The High Priests were Roman collaborators who kept the peace for their overlords. 

Passover, therefore, was a threat. It had often brought disturbances and acts of insurrection in the past. It made Rome and her collaborators nervous. So for years, there had been processions at Passover, just not with palms. At Passover, the Roman governor would process from his luxurious coastal home in the west at Caesarea Maritima to make a show of force in Jerusalem. Borg and Crossan describe his arrival as a “panoply of imperial power: cavalry on horses, foot soldiers, leather armour… weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold. Sounds: the marching of feet, the creaking of leather, the clinking of bridles, the beating of drums.” [i]

On the other side of town Jesus was planning a counter demonstration with his scraggly group of peasant supporters. He was basing it on the Jewish Bible and especially on the words of the prophet Zephaniah who spoke of a humble king riding a donkey who would banish war. He came to Jerusalem, both the holy city of David and the corrupt city of the oppressors of God’s people, to offer a different vision of power. He came to mock Caesar. It was a political act and over the next week those in power noticed and sought to silence him.

On this Palm Sunday we became one with those who followed him in his mocking procession. We know that even though we live in democratic and progressive New Zealand the systems of domination still rule. The rich still get richer at the expense of the poor and powerless. Insurance and finance companies get government bailouts while single women with young children lose benefits. The gap between rich and poor grows wider. The poor still fight and die in wars that benefit arms merchants. The poor still die unnecessarily of malnutrition, polluted water and preventable disease.

Our march around the church was a cry of protest that put our bodies on the line to confront the powers of death in this world. It is a liberating act and an act of liberation.

But our participation in the Passion Narrative reminds us how difficult it is to do. When we allow ourselves to be intimidated and co-opted by those same powers we can find ourselves complicit in silencing Jesus’ message.

We tell this story every year to remind us that Passion has two meanings. Yes, one meaning of passion is suffering. But passion is also used to mean any consuming interest, dedicated enthusiasm or concentrated commitment. Jesus would have meant the second to describe his last week. The passion of Jesus was the kingdom of God. He wanted to incarnate the justice of God, a distributive justice where all got their fair share. It was this passion that lead to his second passion at the hands of Pontius Pilate. His first passion allowed him to accept that insurrection precedes resurrection.

Next Sunday we celebrate that Jesus’ second passion did not silence his first. May it give us courage to keep waving palms.

[i] Borg, Marcus and John Dominic Crossan. The Last Week. HarperOne: 2006. P 3.