Sermon: The Passion of Jesus

Holy Week, 2005

St. Andrew’s United Methodist Church, CO

 By

Dr. Marcus Borg

 

Scripture: Matthew 21:1-11

 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