April 9, 2006

Glynn Cardy

Lent 6     Palm Sunday     Mark 11:1-11     John 12:12-16

The disciples, most of them anyway, got it fundamentally wrong. Luke records in Acts 1:6 that they asked the Risen Christ when the Kingdom would be restored to Israel. Like James and John requesting seats of power, they didn't get it. They all thought Jesus was on about power and glory, expelling Romans and re-establishing the Davidic dynasty. After all wasn't this the Messianic hope and Jesus the Messiah?

One of the great things about the Bible is that the leaders of the 2nd and 3rd Century Church who oversaw the editing of the New Testament didn't expunge all the bits where the disciples are shown in a bad light. They kept them in, reminding us that we all make mistakes, big ones included. However we need to learn from our mistakes, and sometimes I wonder if even now the Church has.

Jesus chose a young colt or donkey to ride into Jerusalem. There is something ridiculous in seeing a grown man ride a donkey with his feet almost touching the ground. His alleged ancestor King David would have ridden into the Holy City on a great horse, adorned in armour, and supported by his formidable army. Jesus came in ordinary dress, supported by unemployed fisherman and socially marginal women, looking foolish upon an ass.

Symbolically and powerfully Jesus announced his reign: 'The Upside-Down Kingdom has arrived!' The reign of nuisances and nobodies had come. Here the first were last, and the last first. Here the meek inherited the earth and children owned it. Here leaders would no longer need swords and shields, only towels and basins. Here the rules had been changed. Here the sustenance was not the finest food money and privilege could get, but costly love freely given for no personal gain. The world was being turned topsy-turvy.

Yet we still don't get it. Through our inability to believe, and reticence to risk, we continue to want Jesus to be a king. We put a crown on his head, and insert him in the great east window of our churches. We write hymns, “Crown him with many crowns, the lamb upon the throne”, and elevate him to where he never wanted to be. We call him “Lord” when he never wanted to lord it over anyone. We treat him as God when he would have been appalled at the suggestion. [i]

There were only two titles that it is likely Jesus would have owned. One is 'Rabbi', translated as 'teacher'. Jesus' vocation was to point the way to God, by his words and deeds. In particular he was passionate about God's inclusion of the ostracized, and the proximity of God to such people. The second title was 'Son of Man', or 'Human One'. This title refers to a figure in the apocryphal Book of Daniel who was an advocate for the underdog, who stood alongside and with the people as they suffered.

Some of you might argue, as I have from time to time, that the Christian tradition of using monarchical and feudal titles for Jesus was a way of subverting normative understandings of human kingship. It was a way of saying that we only have one King, Jesus, and no one save Jesus will reign over us. It was a way of saying that we have only one Lord, Jesus, and though we may pay lip service to Caesar he will never have our allegiance. It was with this in mind and heart that many early Christians gave their lives, and we rightly honour them.

Unfortunately though 'Jesus as King' did not subvert human kingship, but the reverse. Human notions of kingship came to define Jesus. Blame Constantine if you must. Wealth, power, and prestige were writ large in Christian art, liturgy, theology, and practice.

It came to be believed that as a reward for his human sufferings Jesus was elevated to the throne of heaven, there to rule for evermore. His 33 years in Palestine were some brief, though traumatic, intermission between being in the clouds and ruling from the clouds.

I think this is a gross distortion of Jesus' self-understanding of his ministry and mission. When Jesus said 'My kingdom is not of this world' he was not talking about a kingdom out in space. He was not alluding to some celestial Platonist construct. Rather as we might talk of 'the business world' or the 'academic world', he was alluding to the fact that in different spheres different rules and ethics operate.

Pilate's world was the world of power, of might making right, of wealth indicative of status, of religion sanctifying the norm. It is world not unknown today.

Jesus' world on the other hand was the world of self-giving love. A world where the weak are welcome; where slaves, suspect women, and the sick are honoured; and where power is not the preserve of class, race, or gender. Is it any wonder that the leaders of empire and religion conspired together to get rid of him?

Kings operate in the world of power. Jesus operated in the world of love. Kings reward obedient subjects, promising much. Jesus gave no rewards, only the promise of suffering. Is it any wonder that most of his followers deserted him?

To follow Jesus today we must be prepared to be unpopular. To risk speaking up for an embracive vision where the excluded are welcomed and honoured, God among them. To be bold enough to change our theology in line with our vision. To be reckless enough to change our liturgy in line with our theology. And to be foolish enough to believe we can change the world of power by the power of love.

[i] Note that Jews such as Jesus and his disciples would not say the name for God, YHWH. When they came up to the word when reading they would say “Lord” instead. My point is that Jesus, as a Rabbi, would have been aghast to be called YHWH.