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“Two Processions: The Beginning
of the End” |
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These days it’s happening throughout
America with regularity. In small towns, permits are requested and issued,
shiny new cars line up, high school bands get out their instruments, the
politicians show up in their best suits or dresses, policemen get on their
motorcycles, the flags come out, and most of the rest of the town line the
sidewalks. The sirens are turned on, lights start flashing, the music begins to
play, and the procession slowly marches, drives and walks down Main Street. It’s a parade! It is local. It is heart-felt. It is political. It is patriotic. This is the way we are welcoming home our soldiers who have served their country in Iraq or Afghanistan. This is the way America honors her visiting dignitaries and heroes. Actually, this is the way most countries and cultures honor their heroes, their soldiers, and their rulers. It is a display of political power, patriotism, military might, and of honor. Parades and processions have been marching through city streets in various parts of the world for more than 2,500 years. The passage of time hasn’t changed how parades look or what they represent. Conquerors have marched to make it clear who the victor was. Ragtag mobs marched to start revolutions and rebellions. One day, many years ago, five days before the Passover feast, two processions (parades) marched into the ancient city of Jerusalem. We aren’t sure of the exact year, but it was around 30 of the Common Era. One parade was the action of Imperial Rome. It entered Jerusalem from the west, bringing Pontius Pilate (the Roman governor) and a significant number of Roman troops. (We might think of it as a Roman troop “surge.”) The governor always returned to Jerusalem at that particular week of the Jewish calendar in order to remind the Jews that they were an occupied people. The presence of Roman soldiers established who was in charge of the city and kept civil order during a festival when religious and political zeal ran hot in the Jewish crowds. Of course, Pontius Pilate, the ranking representative of Rome, was the guest of honor of the “Passover” procession. Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan describe the Roman parade this way: “A visual panoply of imperial power: cavalry on horses, foot soldiers, leather armor, helmets, weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold. Sounds: the marching of feet, the creaking leather, the clinking of bridles, the beating of drums. The swirling of dust. The eyes of the silent onlookers, some curious, some awed, some resentful.” (Borg and Crossan, The Last Week, 2006, p. 3) This was a planned show of power, and I imagine that it accomplished its purpose. This parade was supported by the ruling class of Palestine: Jews who descended from Herod and maintained their power at Rome’s discretion. It was also supported by the Chief Priests, scribes and Sadducees: Jews connected to the Jerusalem temple and who held great wealth and religious power, again, at the discretion of Rome. On that same day, five days before Passover, in 30 of the Common Era, a second procession also entered Jerusalem from the East. What a contrast it was! No soldiers – just fishermen and women and children. There was no cavalry – just a single man riding a young colt. There were no bright colored regimental banners – just some leafy branches, waving in peasant hands. No drums were beating – instead, hymns were being sung by the crowd, punctuated by a verse or two of Hebrew scripture. The guest of honor for this parade was Jesus, son of Joseph, a carpenter’s son from the Northern Province called Galilee. Pontius Pilate was no soldier-hero and neither was Jesus. Pilate was not a local boy returning home – and neither was Jesus. And yet – on that one day, five days before Passover, in 30 in the Common Era, there were two processions whose main attractions were these two men. By the end of this week, the lives of these two will intersect and change world history. Mark’s gospel is the story of a Jewish reformer from Galilee named Jesus. His ideas were so radical that they politically and theologically threatened the ruling elite of Jerusalem. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ journey toward Jerusalem where the climax of his confrontation will take place has been the whole point. Over half of the gospel is about getting Jesus to Jerusalem, and then what happened the last week of his life while he was there. Jesus’ procession was not some kind of spontaneous event. Did you catch the words as I read them from this morning’s Scripture? (Jesus) “sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it.” (Mark 11:1b-6) The way Mark tells the story, it sounds as if the procession is a “planned political demonstration!” (Borg and Crossan, 2006, p. 4) Just as Pilate’s procession was planned and served a purpose, so does Jesus’ Palm Sunday parade. In a sense, it was a “counter-processional” to Pilate’s power and a challenge to the wealthy Jewish elite who supported and cooperated with the Roman occupation. Jesus’ procession calls to mind the processional of a king as described by the prophet Zechariah:
Jesus, echoing Zechariah’s oracle, came riding into Jerusalem on a young colt, humble (no kingly or warrior clothes for him – only the simple robes of an itinerant teacher from Galilee), the parade route lined by no banners or bands, but rather by singing peasants waving leafy branches cut from the fields. The church season of Lent begins in two and a half weeks. Lent is about the Christian journey. Our Lenten journey begins a little early this year. Ours starts today, with two processions entering Jerusalem the last week of Jesus’ life. Each Sunday, between now and Easter, I will be lifting up a day in the last week of Jesus’ life as discussed in Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan’s book, The Last Week. Week by week – sermon by sermon – we’ll walk the journey with Jesus through the last six chapters of Mark. I hope that you’ll take this journey with us – and with Jesus, because I believe that – when we reach the end of the Lenten journey on Easter morning, you will experience Easter with a new and deeper understanding. Let me leave you with these thoughts from Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan:
Let’s pray. O Lord, the gospels show us that Jesus’ journey was hard – that total obedience to your will is hard. Today, we might not be sure which procession we want to be in. We ask you to be patient with us. Teach us. Show us. Lead us. In his name we ask it. Amen. |