Palm/Passion Sunday (A) + A better way + 4.13.14
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| http://addiezierman.com/2012/04/03/palm-sunday/ |
Palm/Passion Sunday (A) M.
Campbell-Langdell, 2014
John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg contend that there may
well have been two processions that took place on the day we hear about in
spring of the year 30 of the Common Era. One was Jesus, riding on a donkey down
the Mount of Olives, with some peasants and some palms to cheer him. Another
was Pontius Pilate, riding on into town in high estate on a war horse, leading
a group of imperial soldiers.
Times were tense. The Roman official was coming into town because he feared unrest. A city that usually houses some 40,000 souls was now swelling with 200,000 pilgrims, come to Jerusalem in order to celebrate the Passover. Yes, folks were in town for a religious reason, but this many hot and dirty pilgrims crowding around wasn’t good for law and order. Especially when folks were chafing at the bit of the empire’s hold on them.[1] So thinking about the procession of people with Jesus, we might think the Hosanna sounds a lot like Huzzah or Hurray, but at that point the closest translation was “Save us, Lord,” just like we hear in Psalm 118, verse 25.[2] The people needed relief and they saw in this peaceful monarch just what Zechariah had foretold—a humble leader riding on a donkey, someone who would bring peace, a salve to these troubled times.[3]
Times were tense. The Roman official was coming into town because he feared unrest. A city that usually houses some 40,000 souls was now swelling with 200,000 pilgrims, come to Jerusalem in order to celebrate the Passover. Yes, folks were in town for a religious reason, but this many hot and dirty pilgrims crowding around wasn’t good for law and order. Especially when folks were chafing at the bit of the empire’s hold on them.[1] So thinking about the procession of people with Jesus, we might think the Hosanna sounds a lot like Huzzah or Hurray, but at that point the closest translation was “Save us, Lord,” just like we hear in Psalm 118, verse 25.[2] The people needed relief and they saw in this peaceful monarch just what Zechariah had foretold—a humble leader riding on a donkey, someone who would bring peace, a salve to these troubled times.[3]
A person who would bring love. And peace.
This reminded me of a movie we watched recently, called “Five
Broken Cameras.”[4] It
is a very striking documentary made by a Palestinian man who simply, peaceably,
films the events transpiring in his town in today’s Holy Land, how land on
which his family and neighbors have cultivated olive trees for centuries or
more is being eaten up by Israeli settlements. Somehow the Israeli soldiers and
settlers being filmed don’t like what they are up to being captured for the
world to see, especially as they might even be breaking their own nation’s
laws. One by one camera by camera is broken, whether shot at or otherwise
destroyed in the course of the man’s time capturing his village’s experience.
But two images stay with me. One is of many of the villagers marching along, waving olive branches and palms (this didn’t just happen in the first century folks!) asking for peace in their town, for an ability to exist without having their historic lands encroached upon. A motley crew of men in faded blue jeans and women in headscarves and gaudy colors, strong and jubilant. You could almost imagine the hosannas. And then, later, I remember another scene, very sad. After the most lively, playful man in the village, the friend of all the children, and a leader in the protest against the occupation of the village’s land, is shot and killed, the four year old son of the filmmaker asks his father why he doesn’t kill the Israeli soldiers with a knife. The father asks, “Why would you want to hurt them?” It is so poignant.
And yet, that is just like Jesus in today’s readings, to me. He enters in, strong in his defense of God’s kingdom. The reign of God and of well-being for all the people is at hand. And yet, he will shortly take violence against himself and will not pay back evil for evil. This is a story of God’s love for us. Jesus is the Prince of Peace, and he shows us a better way.
But two images stay with me. One is of many of the villagers marching along, waving olive branches and palms (this didn’t just happen in the first century folks!) asking for peace in their town, for an ability to exist without having their historic lands encroached upon. A motley crew of men in faded blue jeans and women in headscarves and gaudy colors, strong and jubilant. You could almost imagine the hosannas. And then, later, I remember another scene, very sad. After the most lively, playful man in the village, the friend of all the children, and a leader in the protest against the occupation of the village’s land, is shot and killed, the four year old son of the filmmaker asks his father why he doesn’t kill the Israeli soldiers with a knife. The father asks, “Why would you want to hurt them?” It is so poignant.
And yet, that is just like Jesus in today’s readings, to me. He enters in, strong in his defense of God’s kingdom. The reign of God and of well-being for all the people is at hand. And yet, he will shortly take violence against himself and will not pay back evil for evil. This is a story of God’s love for us. Jesus is the Prince of Peace, and he shows us a better way.
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