Dr. Marcus
Borg
1 When
they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount
of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to
them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will
find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them
to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say
this, "The Lord needs them.' And he will send them immediately."
4 This took place to fulfill what had been spoken
through the prophet, saying, 5 "Tell the daughter
of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a
donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey." 6 The
disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they
brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and
he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd spread their
cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and
spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went
ahead of him and that followed were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of
David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna
in the highest heaven!" 10 When he entered
Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?"
11 The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus
from Nazareth in Galilee."
Good Morning.
I’m an Episcopalian, so I’m not accustomed to
saying, “Good Morning” to a congregation because we don’t do that,
but I know you Methodists tend to shout it out, so I decided to give
you a second chance. Let me begin by acknowledging how much I have
enjoyed my weekend here at St. Andrew. I have been received with
extraordinary hospitality and graciousness, and I’m very impressed
with you as a congregation. What I know about you makes you one of
the prime examples in this country of what a mainline congregation
can and should be, and I am honored to be among you.
I bring you greetings from my home parish,
Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon, where I am a member
and my wife, Maryanne, is a priest, and so I have sometimes remarked
that I am married to a priest, which was not one of my childhood
fantasies, but so it goes. And I should also caution you that I
have been told that my sermons often sound like lectures. But then
I’ve also been told that my lectures often sound like sermons, so it
kind of all evens out. As I make the transition to the sermon, I
invite you to join me in a moment of prayer.
“Lord, Jesus Christ, you are the light of the
world. Fill our minds with your peace and our hearts with your
love. In your name, oh Christ, our body and our blood, our life and
our nourishment, Amen.”
To begin with the obvious, this is the first
day of Holy Week, the most important week of the Christian year.
This week is the climax of the season of Lent and the climax of our
Lenten journey. Holy Week, this week, is about the Passion of
Jesus. Now, this phrase, the Passion of Jesus, has both a narrow
meaning and a broader meaning. The narrow meaning refers to the
suffering of Jesus on Good Friday; his excruciating death on a
cross. This is the meaning that Mel Gibson focused on his in movie,
The Passion of the Christ.
But if we focus only, or mostly, on Good
Friday, we risk missing the fuller meaning of the phrase, the
Passion of Jesus. And what I want to focus on this morning is the
broader, the fuller meaning, namely, what was Jesus passionate
about? What was his passion, and how did his
passion lead to his execution? And I want to use the story of the
first Palm Sunday to raise this question and invite your reflection
about this question, “What was Jesus passionate about?”
On that first Palm Sunday, two
processions entered Jerusalem. We all know about one of them: the
procession we heard read about in the Gospel text today; the
procession that we’ve known about since we were children if we have
grown up in the church. Jesus enters Jerusalem from the East side,
coming from the Mount of Olives, riding on a donkey, and I’ll say
more about this procession in a few minutes.
But I want to begin with the other
procession that was entering Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday,
the one most of us have not heard of. Now, we don’t know about this
procession from the Bible, but we know about it from the first
century Jewish historian, Josephus, who writes about the Jewish
homeland during the time of Jesus. On that same day that we now
call Palm Sunday, there would have been another procession entering
Jerusalem from the opposite side of the city. Jesus’ procession
came down the Mount of Olives on the East, but entering Jerusalem
from the West would have been a procession of Roman troops, both
mounted cavalry and foot soldiers. And at the head of that
procession would have been the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, whose
name we all know, of course.
Now, Pilate was normally resident in Caesarea,
on the seacoast about 50 miles from Jerusalem, which was the Roman
capitol of Roman-occupied Palestine in the first century. But for
the Jewish Festival of Passover, Pilate would always come up to
Jerusalem, at the head of a squadron of Roman reinforcements for the
Roman garrison stationed overlooking the temple in Jerusalem,
because the Festival of Passover especially, which was a whole week
long, would often be a time of riots and disturbances; riots of the
Jewish people against the Roman occupation.
So, from the West, try to visualize it: The
Roman governor at the head of the procession of a hundred or more
mounted cavalry with armored Roman foot soldiers marching behind.
Try to hear the sound of it. And at the head of that, of course,
would be the insignia of empire: long, wooden poles with golden
eagles on top, the banners and flags of Empire, all the pomp and
circumstance of imperial power entering Jerusalem from the West.
Now, Jesus, and for that matter the Jewish
people as a whole, would have known that that happens on that day.
That these reinforcements, headed by Pilate, would be coming up from
Caesarea, and Jesus deliberately chooses to enter Jerusalem from the
opposite side of the city in a counter-demonstration. It is
real clear if you read the story of it in Mark, who is the first
teller of the story, and then Matthew takes it over from Mark and
Luke has it too, or course, that Jesus plans this. He
sets it up. He tells his disciples, “Go into the village over
there and you will find a donkey tied. Bring it to me, and if the
owner asks you what you are doing, tell him that the Master needs
it.” Jesus has obviously prearranged this.
So they do that, and then Jesus rides this
donkey into the city, with his own followers cheering his entrance.
It is a deliberately staged, counter-demonstration to what is
happening on the other side of the city. And what does it mean?
What does it symbolize? Well, the Gospel of Mark leaves it
implicit. The Gospel of Matthew makes it explicit. Jesus is using
known symbolism from the Old Testament book of Zechariah as he
enters Jerusalem.
In the ninth chapter of the book of Zechariah,
we are told about two different types of kings, and therefore two
different types of kingdoms. There is the King of Peace who will
enter the Jerusalem mounted on a colt, the foal of a donkey – which
also happens to be a peasant’s animal or a woman’s animal: no
self-respecting man would ride a donkey in first century Jewish
Palestine unless he were a radically impoverished peasant. And the
ninth chapter of the Book of Isaiah talks about a different kind of
king, a Warrior King, who will enter Jerusalem riding on a
warhorse. Those two different kinds of kingships – the king of
peace, the king of war – symbolize two different kinds of kingdoms:
the Kingdom of God, which is a kingdom of justice and peace; and the
kingdom of empire, which is based upon power and wealth and
domination and control. From the West, the Roman Governor enters
the city at the head of an imperial procession symbolizing all of
the power and wealth and violence and control of empire. Jesus, in
what was clearly a planned political counter-demonstration, enters
the city from the opposite side.
The two processions are a story of two
kingships, two kingdoms, two lordships. It is Jesus’ way of
symbolizing that the kingdom of which he spoke is a very
different kind of kingdom from the kingdom represented by imperial
power. And the Kingdom of God, of which Jesus spoke, is for the
Earth. He is not talking about Heaven. It is
right there at the center of the Lord’s Prayer: Thy kingdom come
on Earth, as it already is in Heaven. The Kingdom of God
of which Jesus spoke, and which his entry into this city symbolized,
is an alternative vision of what life on Earth can be like.
What was Jesus’ passion? His passion was God
and the Kingdom of God. His passion was this alternative vision of
life for God’s Earth. These two processions continue to collide
throughout the rest of Holy Week, Passion Week. Matthew, Mark and
Luke tell us about a series of conflicts between Jesus and the
authorities at the top of the domination system, some of the
conflicts initiated by Jesus himself and some of the conflicts
initiated by the authorities. On the next day of Holy Week, Monday,
Jesus performs that act in the Temple that we’ve all heard of, when
he overturns the tables of the moneychangers. What we may not have
thought through is the meaning of that act, the symbolism of that
act. The Temple was not only a religious institution: it was the
economic center of the domination system in the Jewish homeland in
the first century. Taxation on agricultural production, which
affected the peasant class above all, was paid to the Temple: those
were the Temple tithes. And so Jesus’ action of overturning the
tables of the moneychangers was a protest against the role of the
Temple in the economic exploitation of the peasant class and a
protest against the Temple authorities who were the aristocracy at
the head of the native domination system.
Then Jesus tells the story of the wicked
tenants who refused to give the produce of the vineyard to the owner
of the vineyard, and you remember the parable. They beat some of
the messengers and finally killed the final messenger, and as Jesus
finishes telling that story, Mark tells us and Matthew does, too,
that the Temple authorities were angered because they realized he
had told it against them. The wicked tenants are not the
people of Israel, not the Jewish people. The wicked tenants are the
authorities at the top of the domination system.
And then there unfolds a series of verbal
debates and conflicts between Jesus and other representatives of the
domination system: the Pharisees who were allied with the Temple
aristocracy; the Sadducees – the aristocratic party; and the
Scribes, a class of literate intellectuals who worked for the elites
of wealth and power, amongst other things drawing up contracts and
so forth. And Jesus says about the Scribes, “You love the seats of
honor and you love to be greeted in the marketplace, but you devour
widows’ houses,” the reference being to the role of the Scribes in
drawing up these agreements that led to the foreclosure, because of
indebtedness, upon widows’ houses – the most vulnerable in the
society.
And so through the week the conflict, the
tension between Jesus and the authorities grows and grows and, as we
all know, before the week is over, the authorities, the domination
system, crucify him. That domination system, which was a wedding
between native beliefs and imperial power, executed him.
Why was he executed? Because of his passion
for the Kingdom of God. We might think of an analogy to Martin
Luther King. What was the passion of Martin Luther King? It
wasn’t of the last few minutes of his life as he lay dying on that
balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. It was Martin Luther
King’s passion that got him killed. So also was
Jesus’ passion that led to his execution.
And of course, the story doesn’t end there.
Our story, the Christian story, also includes Easter: Easter, which
is God’s vindication of Jesus. Easter which means God has raised
him up, exalted Jesus to God’s right hand, and that means that God
has said YES to Jesus and to the Kingdom of God that Jesus
spoke about and NO to the domination systems that killed
him. Easter means that Jesus is Lord and the lords of this world
are not.
So the story of two processions is also the
story of two kingdoms and two lordships. And to return to this
theme of the two processions, it raises for us, both collective
questions and personal questions as Christians living in our time
and place.
One of the collective questions: As a country,
which procession are we in? The answer is not pretty. We are
the imperial power of our time. We may not have sought it, but it
has happened with the collapse of the Soviet Union. And empire is
not about geographical expansion. Empire is about the use of
economic and military power in one’s own perceived self-interests to
shape and control the world. By that definition, we are the
imperial power of our time, and the record of empires is not very
good. It is very difficult in human history to find an empire that
has used its power in a benign and benevolent way. We act pretty
much like empires always have.
One of the collective questions: As a country,
which procession are we in? The answer is not pretty. We ARE the
imperial power of our time. Empire is not just about geographical
expansion. We might be innocent of wanting that. Empire is about
the use of economic and military power to shape the world in your
own self-interests, and by that definition, we are the
imperial power of our time. We may not even have sought it, but the
collapse of the Soviet empire means we are the remaining imperial
power of our time, and the record of empires in history is not very
encouraging. It is very difficult to find one that has used this
power in a benign and benevolent way. If we are to be the exception
to that, we are going to have to work very hard to change our
direction, because right now, as a country, we are entering
Jerusalem from the West. We are in that imperial procession that
seeks to control the world through military and economic power.
Collectively as churches, which procession are
we in? Again, the picture is not pretty. A majority of Christians
in this country, at least a slight majority, support the imperial
procession, really in the crowd cheering on the power of empire.
And as individuals, which procession is each
of us in? Which procession am I in? Which procession
are you in? During the break between the first and second
services this morning, a woman came up to me and very thoughtfully
and insightfully said about herself: “I really feel in my heart
that I am in both processions, that I’ve a foot in each one and that
I’m torn between the two.” And I think that’s a very thoughtful
assessment of where many of us are – torn between these two
processions. But I don’t think that it’s possible, ultimately, to
be in both Pilate’s procession and in Jesus’ procession.
Our conservative Christian brothers and sisters
sometimes ask: “Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord
and Savior?” I think that’s an enormously important question
because the lordship of Christ is the path of personal
transformation and liberation. But I want to suggest to you a
parallel question, the wording exactly the same with the
substitution of one word. Do you accept Jesus Christ as your
political Lord and Savior? Both questions are there, throughout
the Bible as a whole; throughout the story of Jesus; throughout the
story of Passion Week.
But nevertheless, the question is important.
Are we in that procession that welcomes the king of peace, riding on
a donkey, who speaks of the kingdom of God, a very different kingdom
from the kingdoms of this world? And it’s not about Heaven; it’s
about the Earth.
Or are we in that procession that is concerned
about power and control and wealth and the glory of this world?
Now, this isn’t simply about politics, though it is about
politics.
The question about the two processions is
really about our loyalty, our allegiance, our
commitment, our centering. It is a story of true
lordship, and it poses the question: “Who is your Lord? Who is our
Lord?”
The journey of Lent, now coming to an end, and
the stories of Holy Week have both of these dimensions. It is
personal. It is about each of us as individuals taking part in the
journey of death and resurrection as an internal, psychological,
spiritual process of personal transformation. We are invited this
week to die and rise with Christ, to undergo that death that leads
to new life and a new identity in Christ. And it
is political. It is about standing against the systems of
domination and power that crucified the Lord of Glory. It is about
standing for the Kingdom of God.
I was thinking earlier this week about some of
my childhood memories of Holy Week. And one of my most powerful
memories is singing that Good Friday hymn, “Were You There When They
Crucified My Lord?” and many of us will sing that sometime this
week. And this last week, I was struck by that line: “crucified my
Lord.” We, as Christians, have a crucified Lord!
What does it mean to follow a master, a Lord, who was
crucified by the powers of this world? It means to follow him on
that path of personal transformation, and it also means to stand
against the powers that crucified our Lord.
And so I end where I began. Two processions
entered Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday. Which procession
are we in? Amen
