Sunday of the Passion

Luke 22:14-23:56

In 2001, a man named Charlie Todd launched a comedy collective “Improv Everywhere” in Manhattan, arranging “scenes of chaos and joy” that erupt all across the city. In one of their projects an enthusiastic woman in a marching band uniform solicited passersby to lead a parade, and while some declined, those who took the baton were then joined by a contingent of marching band musicians, playing instruments and following them wherever they were led. The spectacle of the crowd was jubilant.

When I hear the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, even in today’s Lukan account that skips the palms and hosannas, what I hear first is joyful exuberance, the kind of high emotion that makes your face hurt from smiling so widely. The crowd was roiling with the anticipation of seeing the man whom they’ve heard stories about, the hope of seeing him “perform” miracles, and the energy gained from simply being in a crowd.

But that’s not all that’s happening in the crowd that meets Jesus.

Marcus Borg, a theologian and scholar who wrote about the historical Jesus in a number of books including one titled The Last Week, described what was taking place that day. It was the beginning of the week of Passover, the “festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from” Pharaoh who had enslaved the people of Israel centuries earlier.

The Roman governors of the region lived nearer to the Mediterranean coast, but they regularly traveled to Jerusalem for the major Jewish festivals. Proceeding down the western Watershed Ridge, Pilate and the imperial army would have approached Jerusalem in a mighty procession with armored foot soldiers, the cavalry on horses, weapons, banners and all the sounds of a conquering army.[i]

In contrast, Jesus approached from the opposite side of Jerusalem, from the eastern Mount of Olives, riding into the city on a borrowed colt and people lining the way into Jerusalem spread their coats on the road ahead of him. These people had chosen to come and honor Jesus at his parade and reject the imperial power that sought to rule over them.

In April 2012, 40,000 people showed up in front of the courthouse in downtown Oslo, Norway to sing a children’s song. Their presence and their song were their response to a national tragedy that had happened the summer before when a man had killed 77 people.

When the accused killer made a bizarre claim during his trial that the country’s children were being brainwashed by the popular children’s song “Children of the Rainbow” two women committed to take the song back. They organized an invitation to a sing-along that went viral, and at twelve o’clock on the appointed day, the country stopped to sing. [ii]

The people who sang that day were not trying to entertain or provide a distraction; that day the crowd was rejecting the claim of the criminal who had caused so much grief, rebuking the violence they had witnessed, and confessing, “We’re all in this together.”

As the story of Jesus’ passion, his arrest and trials, and his crucifixion unfold through the events of this week, the darker and more dangerous power of crowds is revealed.

There is a thin line between intense love and hate, and the power of a crowd can shift quickly from exuberance and hope to danger and destruction, fed by our baser “instincts that favor self-preservation over the welfare of others.”[iii]

The crowds who were there when Jesus entered Jerusalem appear again when the elders and chief priests who had him arrested and taken to Pilate for trial. Trying to reason with the crowd, Pilate tries to acquit Jesus three times; he says he cannot find any basis for their accusation and then he announces he has examined him and not found him guilty, and finally, he tells them that he has no ground for the sentence of death.

But Luke’s account tells us that the crowd continued their urgent demands and “their voices prevailed.” (23:23) The crowd prevailed — not justice, not the gospel and certainly not God.

The passion narrative is an indictment against every one of us. It sometimes has been used wrongly and anti-Semitically to condemn the Jews and Israel for their rejection and execution of Jesus, but in Luke’s gospel, “Jerusalem” should be understood as “the whole world.” The responsibility extends to all humanity.

Every one of us is part of the crowd who cheers for the Messiah one day and then jeers at Jesus from the courtyard; every one of us shouts “Crown Him” one day and then hollers “Crucify Him!”

As we enter into this Holy Week we are called to ponder what it means for us to own a share of what happened to Jesus.

It does not matter that we weren’t present or even alive, when Christ was crucified. As surely as our faith stands on the shoulders of those who went before us, we are complicit. 

In our Lutheran understanding, by original sin and human frailty, we are sinners, and we contribute to the evil and violence that is perpetrated in the world even if our hands don’t get dirty. In our self-centeredness, we put our own interest over the welfare of others.

This Lenten Season we have focused on returning to God with all our heart, repenting with confession on our lips. So, let us ask ourselves: When has our love turned to hatred? When have we denied Christ to save ourselves from embarrassment or persecution? When have we ignored someone who needed our compassion to save ourselves the hassle? These are the questions we must carry with us as the shouts of Hosanna fade, the soldiers’ swords clatter on Thursday and the sun’s light fails on Friday.

Thankfully, through it all, the Good News we hear from Jesus from the cross is that just as surely as we have sinned, we are forgiven. God who loves us is merciful and pours out abundant grace upon us.

Let us pray…
Merciful God,
Thank you for the passion of Your Son Jesus who emptied himself on the cross and forgiving the crowds, forgives us for our sin, known and unknown, giving us new life to live as witnesses to your abundant love and forgiveness.
Accompany us in this Holy Week as we experience the journey into Jerusalem and witness our Lord’s arrest and crucifixion, even as we look ahead to the celebration of the resurrection.
Empower us by Your Spirit to go out into the world rejoicing when there is reason to celebrate, defiant when we must stand for justice, and repentant when we fail to do so.
We pray in the name of your Son Jesus.
Amen.

[i] Marcus Borg. The Last Week. 2-3.
[ii] “Can Crowds Celebrate As A Form Of Protest?”, TED Radio Hour, NPR. https://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=152871050, accessed 4/13/2019
[iii] John Seabrook. “Crush Point”, The New Yorker. 1/30/11. Accessed 4/13/2019.

Sunday of the Passion 2017

(as Simon of Cyrene)

I was there, you know.

My name is Simon, and I was in the city for the Passover festival.

My pilgrimage was more than 900 miles to reach Jerusalem. I knew there would be people from all over Judah, but it was even more crowded than I expected. And they weren’t just excited about the festival; there was something else in the air. There were people shouting angrily while others shrank back, whispering in fear.

I heard the crowd before I saw it surging up the street. Have you ever been in a crowd like that, where the people move like a wave, and you’re not really even touching the ground anymore?

I tried to stay out of the soldiers’ way, but I guess I failed. And then they ordered me to pick up the crossbeam for that man – the one they call Jesus.

When a Roman soldier tells you to do something, you do it.
At least,
if you want to live.

I wanted the chance to return home, so I followed their orders.

It was so heavy, probably as much as carrying both of my young sons – Alexander and Rufus – on my back.

The wood cut into my shoulder and made me wince, and I think I still have splinters in my palm.

But the weight of that cross wasn’t as heavy as the burden of others carry. They are the ones who crucified him.

The high priest here Jesus blasphemed, that he spoke against the Holy God of Israel, and there are others who say he was sent by the ruler of demons.

But, I had heard about this man Jesus from merchants at our ports back home.

They were laughing because he was heard calling people “fishers of men.” Ha!

They want to fill their nets with the catch of the day, not more mouths to feed.

But they also shared the stories of how he healed people from their diseases and sicknesses, and even revived Lazarus. They said he was a good rabbi, too; he knew the Torah and the words of the prophets of old. Some even said he was the Messiah – the anointed one, and, you know, I wondered.

I never expected to come face-to-face with him though. But there, in the street, I lifted the cross off him, and carried it beside him, as we trudged toward the place they call Golgotha.

He was exhausted, beaten and bruised, but he wasn’t defeated.

I watched with the others, as they raised him on the cross.

They mocked him calling him King of the Jews and Son of Man, but, I can’t help but look at how his life fulfilled the Scripture – from the words of the psalmist to those of Isaiah, Jeremiah and Zechariah.

A Nazarene born in Bethlehem,
He was scorned, spat on and struck;
His followers fled, scattering like sheep.

And, now,
he’s been killed.

I confess, that’s not how I imagined the Messiah coming.

I thought at least our enemies might be driven away and we would be free to worship without persecution.

I thought we might know restoration and jubilee,
but maybe we will see that in the kingdom of heaven Jesus described.

Or maybe, that is what is left for us; maybe that’s what he meant when he talked about the kingdom of heaven. He said the kingdom of heaven will come to us who are merciful and who are humble. But I don’t think that means we can shrink back in fear. Sometimes we have to walk the way of the cross, even when it means we will be reviled for our faith or persecuted for righteousness – for standing up for God and God’s people.

After Jesus was crucified, I heard the soldier call him God’s Son. And you know, I think he was right. I cannot understand why Jesus died on that cross, but I can look at how he lived, how he loved people, and how he loved God and follow him.

Shalom.