Palm Sunday (A) + Essential + 4.5.20
All Saints, Oxnard M.
Campbell-Langdell+
St. Matthew 21:1–11 Psalm
118:1–2, 19–29
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]
How telling this feels to me at this time, when our festivals
and parades are being cancelled left and right and even those to whom we turn
to help – especially medical professionals – in fact need our help and prayers.
Perhaps today’s truest prayer is to sing Hosanna and continue to pray for help.
But this alternative festival in which Jesus participated
didn’t just show that Jesus was a different kind of leader, or provide a space
to call upon God for help. This alternative festival emboldened the people to
hope for something new, something different. He also showed what was essential
to leadership and connection with the people.
They saw in Jesus the hope for something other than war and
domination, but a way of peace and love. Thomas Merton once said about daily
life: “There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist
most easily succumbs: activism and overwork .... To allow oneself to be carried
away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands,
to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything,
is to succumb to violence.”[4]
Many of us have commented on how this time can remind us of what
is essential. It can be seen as an invitation to another kind of sabbath, at
least for those of us who have the privilege or in some cases the necessity to
stay at home. Poet Lynn Ungar suggests in her poem “Pandemic”:
“What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.”[5]
Such a lovely thought. So if this time is an invitation to
Sabbath, and to focus on the essentials so that we can pray along with those
who cannot desist from activity because others depend on them. For indeed,
medical workers, fieldworkers and other essential workers may be risking their
lives for strangers, and they have learned what is essential. How can we use
this Holy Week to seek what is essential, to walk with Jesus through the pain
of the cross and await the joy of the coming resurrection?
The church has been wondering – what is essential to Holy
Week? It is gathering to pray together. Remembering Jesus’ journey to the cross
is essential. And remembering that death is not the end of the story is
essential.
And how can we use this time to pledge ourselves to new life
– when we get through this, how will things be different? How will we show the
humor and humility of Jesus rather than the pomp and hubris of Caesar’s
official? How will our lives reflect the peaceful and gentle procession toward
the unknown rather than the violent march toward an assumed future? How will we
care for ourselves and the planet in new ways? How will we care for each other
in new ways? As we enter this Holy Week, may it be a special time of prayer and
reflection. Prayer for those sick and dying and those ministering to them, and
reflection on what new insights God is calling us into about what is truly
essential.
Amen.
[1] John
Rollefson, “Matthew 21:1-11, Homiletical Perspective,” FOTW Year A, Vol. 2.
[2]
Steven Farris, “Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29: Homiletical Perspective,” FOTW Year A,
Vol. 2.
[3]
Rollefson, Ibid.
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