March 16, 2008

Clay Nelson

Palm Sunday

You know you’ve had a horrible week when it starts with people singing your praises. You could almost forget what a blood sport it is for people to kill off their heroes.

The paparazzi were around every corner. No, they didn’t have cameras trying to capture my innocent movements to spin to my disadvantage but they were there with their trick questions that tried to do the same. For instance, “Should we pay taxes to Rome?” they asked. If I say no, I’m guilty of insurrection. If I say yes, I will be guilty of betraying my base, the poor and oppressed. What is this, the US Democratic primary?

When I challenged the abusive and corrupt Temple priests by driving out those who sell animal victims for sacrifice and profit, the Romans wouldn’t have needed a cross, if the priests’ looks could kill.

It is clear my stars were crossed and things weren’t going well, but were going as expected. I decided to hold a going away dinner party. To my disappointment, my disciples, I spent three years home schooling, clearly still didn’t get it. I tried one more time to explain that power and honour is not my way to the wholeness we all seek. I wash their feet and Peter, blessed but clueless, objects until I tell him if he doesn’t let me wash his feet he is not part of the team. It was just like him to go overboard and ask me to wash all of him.

Then my most zealous follower forsook me, giving me over to the authorities with a kiss. Never trust your treasurer to resist 30 pieces of silver. He wasn’t such a bad guy; he just thought the Romans were our only problem.

After breaking bread together, my arrest was imminent. To prepare for a bad week getting worse, I just wanted some quiet time to pray within the safety of my friends. They couldn’t stay awake. I know they didn’t fully understand what was happening but it would’ve meant a lot if they could’ve remained present to me during a difficult time. When Judas showed up I was hurt more by his despair at his betrayal than by the arrest.

Then there was my trial for heresy. What a joke. What do you say in the face of such a blatant power play? Nothing. The cards were already stacked to protect their interests.

Watching Pontius was maybe the saddest moment of the week. His masters wanted him to keep the peace. If he were any good at this he wouldn’t be in this backwater of the world. Now, he has to deal with me, an “insurrectionist” who says such provocative things as “turn the other cheek” and “love your enemies.” My presence before him annoyed him as much as the religious leaders who foisted me onto him. They clearly revelled in his discomfort. What’s a governor to do? Wash his hands of the whole thing. “What difference will it make to execute one more of their many messiahs? They are such a nuisance and are as numerous as lice on a donkey? Let the crowds, so easily manipulated, make the decision.” As he sent me to my death, he couldn’t look me in the eye. Too bad: he would have seen my forgiveness.

Scourging surely wasn’t a highlight to the week, but compared to the loneliness and pain of the cross it was a picnic.

I understand that the institution that has based its legitimacy and power more on my suffering and death than my life and ministry calls my last days Holy Week. I think of it more as Hell Week.

Marcus Borg in speaking about biblical stories says, “I’m sure it didn’t happen this way, or maybe didn’t happen at all, but I know it is true.

I’m pretty sure Jesus’ “hell week” didn’t happen as reported, but I’m also sure it is true. I know this because I have had my own hell weeks, and I know you have too.

There are three story lines that we all share and they make our lives hell.

Firstly, we all struggle with being in bondage. No, I don’t think anyone here in Auckland in 2008 is literally a slave, but we all seek liberation from what binds us. It can be social status, prejudice, economic realities, addictions, psychological hang-ups and the list goes on. We are the Jewish people looking for the Promised Land without a map torn by the desire and danger of freedom and comfort and the predictability of enslavement. Like Moses we can see what we want and need, but damned if we know how to get it.

Secondly, we all search for meaning, purpose and connection. We enter this world exiled from the womb with a slap on the bum and a cry. We keep crying out for an answer to what it all means. We see the pain and senselessness in the world and our reflex response is to want to re-enter mum and suck our thumb. And if we get there, we certainly don’t want to be born again. Like Adam and Eve we keep looking for a back door to re-enter Paradise – all to no avail. This story line is the story line of all religions. Everyone everywhere throughout history wants or has wanted to be reconnected to the source of meaning and life. Literally the word religion means to be reconnected. It’s why I have job security.

The third story that connects us is that being human means we screw up. We betray ourselves, the ones we love, our neighbours and people we have never heard of, not to mention the planet we live on. Being human also means we feel guilty about that. We might like to undo the harm we have caused, but that is not always possible. We are connected by our need for forgiveness, which isn’t something we like to brag about. In fact, we’d rather focus on the offences of others, in the hope that no one will notice ours. We live in denial and when caught we often make someone else pay for our bad behaviour. It is so much easier to sacrifice a lamb or God’s son, for that matter, or our integrity than simply own up and ask for forgiveness from those we have harmed.

If you can’t be bothered with reading the Bible, that’s it in a nutshell: bondage, exile and guilt. I know life can be hell, because the Bible told me so.

The power of Palm Sunday is Jesus showed us how to go to hell and back. He didn’t count on being saved from the ordeal of life, no matter how much, like us, he would’ve welcomed it. The only way to get through this life and to redeem its story lines is to face it with courage, integrity and honesty. He refused to live in bondage by giving power to anything or anyone that would enslave him. He found meaning and purpose in loving everyone, even those who betrayed, deserted and killed him. He lived guilt-free, not because he wasn’t human and didn’t screw up too, but because he did not judge – he let the truth do that – and forgave freely. He got through hell week by not being a victim. He showed us the way not to escape hell but to redeem it.

If he were up here today he might tell us that if you want a Holy Week, go to hell. It won’t kill you.