Resisting Force
Tomorrow,
as we begin Holy Week, Jews across the world will be sitting down for the
Jewish holiday of a Passover “Seder”, which is actually a dinner. Who here has heard of Seder before? Does anyone know what it is?
Jews
celebrate Passover to as a remembrance of liberation by God from slavery in Egypt and
their freedom as a nation under the leadership of Moses. In
ancient times, Passover was one of the three Pilgrimage Festivals in Judaism,
where people gathered in Jerusalem with their agricultural offerings. There are also some commandments that must be
followed during that time, which include ceremonial hand-washing, eating only
un-leavened bread – which is more like a tasteless cracker and called the bread
of affliction - and bitter herbs, to signify the bitterness of the time Jews
spent in slavery. Most of this is
accomplished in the dinner on the first night of Passover, which is called a
Seder. The word seder literally means
‘order’; the Passover has 15 separate steps in its traditional order which help
tell the Jewish Story.
Has
anyone ever been to a Passover Seder?
When
I was a kid, I remember that our youth group went to Passover at a nearby
Synagogue to do a little interfaith education.
I don’t remember much about that experience except that it
happened. The one I do remember is my
first Passover as an adult in Chicago, hosted by the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs. This was a non-profit and the
invitation went out to partnering organizations, so I took the opportunity to
go, by myself. When I got there, people
were invited to sit at these large circular tables, like our Grabill Hall. The table was set with some very specific
things – a shank bone, lettuce, an egg, parsley,
horseradish as a bitter herb, wine, and matzah bread, which is like a dry
salt-less cracker… actually a bit like cardboard…
(there are a lot of jokes about the unappetizing qualities of Matzah bread…
like, “What do you call someone
who derives pleasure from the bread of affliction? A matzochist.”)
Now we all had a glass for wine, and
someone came by with a bottle of kosher wine for the table and set it near me.
Trying to be polite, I picked it up and asked if I could pour wine for someone
sitting next to me. She said yes, and I
poured her a glass of wine, as you do, and then poured mine. I barely caught the look on her face, which
seemed a bit sour.
Then she said to me, “you’re not Jewish,
are you?” No, I said, wondering why it
was that obvious.
Then we started the meal. The leader, knowing they had a mixture of
attendees, Jewish and non-Jewish, gave instructions. It begins with the first blessing of
Sanctification said over the wine, and then the wine is drunk. All the wine. The whole glass, so that we can pour another
for the second blessing.
This second glass she did not let me pour.
In our readings this week, Jesus has
entered the gates of Jerusalem a few days before the celebration of
Passover. Passover, in this day and age,
seems
like a charming recitation of Jewish history – a nice excuse to get together
with family and educate young ones. But
in biblical times, it was a different kind of celebration – it was a
celebration of Israel’s independence day.
Passover is a retelling
of the story of God liberating the Israelite slaves from Pharoah. It is a celebration
of overthrowing the ultra-powerful Pharoah, of Pharoah’s horses and riders
being thrown into the sea by God. It is the story of God always being on their
side, of God leading them to land that was promised. Story of faith and hope that God will not
abandon them. It is the recitation of the
identity of the people. The Passover was
an ultra nationalistic celebration … done here in the midst
of occupied Rome. It was a celebration
of Jewish freedom in a time and place when Jews were not free. Jews were living under the boot of the Roman
occupation.
And since this is a
pilgrimage festival, a festival that has to be celebrated in Jerusalem where
the Temple is located, the city is packed with people. Biblical scholars estimate that Jerusalem had
a population of about 20 to 30,000 people, like the size of Hastings. But at Passover the Holy city’s population
might have added another 150,000 people.
Imagine every room filled, with campsites popping up on every available
hillside and open space, inhabited by people who had traveled, sometimes for
weeks, to be there.
Imagine living in a
town under tense oppression from the authorities. Imagine a town under martial law. Now imagine that town swelling to 6 times its
normal size. Military patrol is walking up and down the streets, looking for
reasons to keep order. Perhaps looking
for any reason to show how they keep order.
There could very well
have been many people in Jerusalem during Passover that were looking toward
this time as an opportunity for revolution.
There could very well have been many in the crowd thinking this
‘messiah’ was the guy to lead the revolution.
In fact, that’s what they were shouting.
The word ‘Hosanna’ seems like a word of praise, like “Hurray” or “Praise
God!” I’m not sure why this word is left
in Hebrew, rather than be translated into it’s actual definition, which is
“Save Us”. The crowds were literally
shouting, “Save Us, Son of David” – King David being their last great
ruler. In a fit of ethnic pride and
patriotic determination that they would someday have self-rule, these people
were calling on one they believed to be descended from a great warrior to free
them from yet another near-slave situation.
In the time of the national celebration and calls for
freedom, in an extra-crowded city, it’s pretty likely that Pilate would be
coming into town with an extra show of force, lest anyone get the idea of
overthrowing the current ruling regime. It was likely he rode in atop a warhorse,
flanked by armed soldiers and whatever else he needed to be intimidating.
In the midst of this, Jesus
goes into Jerusalem. Knowing it was
dangerous, knowing it was deadly even – he does it anyway. He set his face like flint and volunteered
himself to his enemies. Last week, in the story of Lazarus’ Resurrection, we
see that even Thomas knows it is a death sentence. That’s because Jesus has
already committed a crime against the state.
Jesus may be completely innocent as a man. But when Jesus began proclaiming the kingdom
of God – rather than the kingdom of Caesar – he was committing a subversive act
against Rome. Those proclamations about
the Kingdom of God may even be empowering to the zealots in Jerusalem who are
eager for a revolution, a violent overthrow of Rome. Some may see his proclamations as evidence
that God is just about to return them to the seat of power, through force.
It’s a common human trait to think of force as the easy
solution. We are fed this in our films
and fiction all the time – movies like Die Hard, or the Bourne Identity series,
or authors like James Patterson or Clive Connelly. The good guys come with force, knock out all
the bad guys, and the day is saved. And
it’s very seductive to think that all we have to do is take power. All we have to do is show overwhelming
force.
But God shows us that this is not the way.
Jesus enacts his plan
to enter Jerusalem, and prescribes where and when to find his preferred method
of entry. Now, it’s hard to imagine in
the era of books and the internet, Jesus lives in a time when all the stories
of the culture were passed down in words.
And people knew them by heart.
So, when Jesus commands the disciple to find a foal and a donkey, he
intentionally chooses some imagery that people will recognize. He chooses the messianic story from the
prophet Zechariah, when the humble king, a lowly servant, rides in on a
donkey. But it’s not a conquering king coming with
an army on a war chariot. It is a
peace-bringing king, arriving on a lowly donkey. In the midst of this,
Jesus coming into Town on the humble donkey; on the other side of town, Pilate
comes in as the Governor.
It’s
almost comic.
With this first step towards the cross, Jesus is telling us
that lordship, even messianic lordship, is defined in terms of servanthood, not
force. Jesus will turn people’s
expectations on their ear. Rather than
help bring violent revolution, with his actions this coming week, he will show
gentleness, humility, peaceableness, mercy, and self-giving acts of generosity
and compassion are marks of God’s domain.
The Jesus who enters Jerusalem was and always is a challenge
to this world’s powers and sense of order – not merely a spiritual challenge
but a political challenge as well. His
cause is not the same as that of the zealots or any violent
insurrectionists. He didn’t come to
shepherd in a return to Jewish domination of Jerusalem, to take power or give
power to a chosen people. He didn’t show
up with overwhelming force, and make things easy for us. ‘King Jesus’ is a threat to both the power
elite and the fickle multitude, those who would like things to be easy. Jesus did not intend to
leave the ways of the worlds as they were.
He came to change our mindset.
Force does not endure.
What endures is the love God has for us.
What endures is that God stays with us, suffers with us, in solidarity
with us, even when it requires facing inevitable violence. What endures is God’s love that Jesus shows
by entering Jerusalem. What endures is
the radical, unbelievable, counterintuitive action of God. What endures is the cornerstone that the
builders had rejected, because the builders didn’t understand the sticking
power of love.
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