Adjectively Speaking
Luke 19: 28-40 Rev. Marianne Niesen March 28, 2010
Several years ago on one of our early visits to the Holy Land, Lyle and I were part of a preaching seminar. We joined a small group of other pastors and spent almost a week in some in-depth classes and travels that centered on the last week of Jesus. I didn’t know it at the time, but one of the most moving parts of that week happened on the first day. Our instructor took us to a small Franciscan church built in the 19th century on the ruins of an earlier Crusader church which had been built on the ruins of a Byzantine church which is believed to have been built very near the place mentioned in today’s gospel - Bethphage, which means ‘House of the Un-ripe or Early Figs.’ It was here that many scholars believe Jesus began his Palm Sunday journey into Jerusalem. It was a long and treacherous walk. When we lead groups to the Holy land, we walk the Palm Sunday Road but we always begin the journey from further down the Mount of Olives. Unfortunately, these days, it is impossible for anyone to walk the entire route as we did that day since Bethphage is now on the Palestinian side of the huge wall Israel has built to “keep peace.” In fact, at the moment it is not even possible to visit that little Franciscan church which is the only remaining remnant of the place called Bethphage.
Bethphage. Jesus’ Palm Sunday journey began at that obscure place, and followed a steep grade into the city. There were easier ways to go, easier paths to follow. Jesus chose this one. Make no mistake, this was a planned parade. Jesus had clearly arranged for the donkey and gave clear instructions to the disciples about where they would find it and what the ‘password’ was for securing it. The Lord needs it. Once the procession began, the meaning of it all became clearer. Jesus did what the prophet Zechariah had prophesied Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. Zechariah continues . . . He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off; and he shall command peace to the nations.1 This entrance into Jerusalem was the entrance of one proclaiming peace but it was a humble peace - without chariot or war horse or battle bow. Instead - a donkey, an obscure village, a steep road. This was a procession claiming a different kind of victory, a victory of the heart, without violence, without war. Jesus’ friends and disciples waved palms and acclaimed him shouting hosannas. It may sound grand to us, imagining it through the years, until we really think about it. It was a procession whose length and grade demanded something of those who joined it. And it would have been odd looking - donkeys, after all, don’t have much of a regal flair to them. Jesus knew what he was doing because he very likely knew there was another procession coming to town that day, a procession proclaiming a very different agenda.
In their book, The Last Week, Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, meticulously lay out the events of Holy Week. They remind us that even as Jesus entered Jerusalem from the eastern side of the city, a Roman parade was also making its entrance from the west. Pilate lived in the seaside resort-like palace at Caesarea Maritima - or Caesarea-by-the-Sea. It was vast and opulent and fit for a Roman governor. Pilate preferred living there to the partisan environment of Jerusalem but when big festivals occurred - like Passover, Pilate would go to Jerusalem himself bringing military reinforcements in case there was trouble. (Like little demonstrations with donkeys or proclamations about other kingdoms than Rome - anything challenging Roman sovereignty.)
The road from Caesarea is a relatively easy one - a gradual climb up to Jerusalem. He would have entered the city “at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers.” It was a display meant to inspire awe and fear. The troops he brought would reinforce the Roman garrison permanently stationed at the Antonia Fortress - which was built high, enabling the guards to - literally - overlook (that is, look into) the temple mount and watch what occurred there.3 In other words, Jesus’ entrance, small though it probably was, would have been noticed.
But, Pilate’s procession from the west was more than a display of imperial power. It was also a display of Roman imperial theology. Remember, for Rome, Caesar was not just the emperor - he was also the ‘son of God’ and the ‘savior of the world.’ Roman imperial theology taught that it was Caesar who had brought peace on earth - through war and victory. Pilate’s procession was meant to clearly remind those who gathered who was boss - and to let them know that he would ‘keep the peace’ the only way he thought possible - by wielding a hefty sword.
We cannot understand the power and meaning of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem from the east without recognizing the other entry from the west. On that day, Jesus entered from the sleepy, peaceful village of Bethphage and Pilate entered from the opulence of Caesarea-by-the- Sea. Jesus entered, riding a donkey down a rather treacherous road and in so doing, proclaimed the Kingdom of God as the kingdom of peace where war would be banished and justice would reign. Pilate’s entrance proclaimed the kingdom of Caesar where peace would come through the power of the war horse and battle bow. By the end of the week, two kingdoms would confront one another and Jesus would be executed by the powers who ruled the world. We believe that in the end, Jesus triumphed - that’s what we celebrate next Sunday. But today, on Palm Sunday, we are reminded that the struggle continues - will it be peace through war and violence or peace through right relations and justice? Which procession are we in - really? And are we willing to do what is necessary to join Jesus on the steep, treacherous Palm Sunday road?
Throughout Lent, as we have studied the little book by Bishop Robert Schnase entitled Cultivating Fruitfulness3 we have been challenged all along to join Jesus on the difficult and sometimes dangerous Palm Sunday Road. Schnase absolutely believes that the five particular practices he has identified are critical if we, as a church, are to be faithful to Jesus and bear fruit.
Radical hospitality - offering the embrace and welcome of Christ to all people, challenging the oh-so-human tendency to write people off, to exclude those we don’t like, to judge.
Passionate worship - engaging in worship that is truly open to God’s spirit and to the challenge of the prophets.
Intentional faith development - making the effort to grow up, allowing our faith to expand; intentionally putting ourselves in places where we will learn something new.
Risk-taking mission and service - sharing the love of Christ and working toward a world where all have enough, which is justice; risking the implications of treating all people as members of God’s family.
Extravagant generosity - knowing ourselves as having been ‘victims of extravagant generosity’ we become willing participants in giving from our abundance.
If you think about it, there is nothing particularly new about these five practices. They’ve been around a long time. In fact, you can’t really have a church without them - hospitality, worship, faith development, mission, service, generosity. They become powerful and life changing - steep - when we add the adjectives. Hospitality that is radical must be more than just friendly. Passionate worship asks something of us. Intentional faith development demands a plan. When Bishop Schnase came to our Annual Conference two years ago, the thing that really caught me was his observation that we can move the adjectives around . . . that is, we can have extravagant hospitality and risk-taking worship and passionate mission and service and intentional generosity and radical faith development. The adjectives are moveable but we eliminate them at our peril. They are what allow us to follow Jesus on the road. They call us out of the status quo which is so often where we like to live. Because it is safe and familiar. But if we are to do what Jesus did, we must live the adjectives, like he did.
When Jesus embarked on that Palm Sunday road, it was a radical act. When he chose that moment to begin his procession, it was intentionally confrontive of the power of Rome. When he looked at those who accompanied him - and even wept over Jerusalem - it was with a passion born of love for the people he had taught and nurtured extravagantly. When he actually entered the city, it was a risky act. Those are the adjectives of commitment and they are absolutely essential for us if we are to follow - really follow - Jesus. Pilate’s procession that day required acquiescence. It was the status quo. Jesus’ procession required commitment - radical, passionate, intentional, risk-taking, extravagant commitment to a kingdom that was not - and is still not - of this world, but a kingdom desperately needed by this world, a kingdom Jesus proclaimed, lived and left for us to fulfill.
Next week, we will all celebrate with alleluias and trumpets and joy - and though Easter celebrates a truly amazing thing, it is not all that hard to get caught up in it. But Palm Sunday is a more difficult moment because we are asked to identify our parade - that of the socially acceptable, and widely successful Caesar - whose program, make no mistake about it, is still around - or that of Jesus who lived the adjectives that led to his death and to new life and the real possibility of peace on earth. As individuals and as a church, we are challenged today - are we willing to do the hard work that will, in the end, bear the fruit of real peace?
Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, lined up before a judge in the police court of San Francisco many years ago. It was the regular morning company of “drunks and disorderlies.” Some were old and hardened; others hung their heads in shame. Things had just begun quieting down after the prisoners were brought in when a strange thing happened. From below the courtroom came a man’s voice singing: “Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair.”4 Last night! For the men standing in that courtroom, last night had been a drunken stupor.
“I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there.” The song continued. The judge paused. He made a quiet inquiry. It seems that a former member of a famous opera company was awaiting trial for forgery. It was he who was singing in his cell below the courtroom.
Meanwhile the song went on, and every prisoner in the courthouse showed emotion. Some wept. One or two actually dropped to their knees. “I heard the children singing, /And ever as they sang /Methought the voice of angels /From heaven in answer rang . . .”
At length one man protested, “Judge,” said he, “must we submit to this? We’re here to take our punishment, but this . . .” He could not finish his sentence. He, too, began to sob. It was impossible to proceed with the business of court. Still, the judge gave no order to stop the song: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o’er! Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna for evermore!”
“In an ecstasy of melody the last words rang out, and then there was silence. The judge looked into the faces of the men before him. There was not one who was not touched by the song, not one in whom some better impulse was not stirred.
“He did not call the cases singly he gave a kind word of advice and then dismissed them all. No one was fined or sentenced to the workhouse that morning. The song had done more good than any punishment could possibly have accomplished.”5
There was power on that Palm Sunday Road. Jesus proclaimed the power of love, a radical, passionate, intentional, risk-taking, extravagant love committed to working toward a world where all would have enough, where justice would reign, where peace was possible. It’s a steep road. Will you join me on that road in the Jesus procession?
1Zechariah 9:9-10
2Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week, HarperCollins, ©2006, pp. 2-3.
3Bishop Robert Schnase, Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, Abingdon Press, ©2007.
4Thanks to Dave Buness for singing these excerpts from The Holy City during the sermon.
5Quiet Moments With God (Tulsa, OK: Honor Books, 2002), pp. 212-213
