I think most of you know that my presvytera was born in a suburb of Minneapolis and that she lived there for a number of years during her childhood. In addition, I spent my undergraduate years at the University of Minnesota, so I know Minneapolis quite well. So, it’s with great interest I’ve been following the news and events happening there right now.
As I watch the news and the preparations for the verdict in the Chauvin trial, I can’t help but wonder: what happened to our society?
It’s easy to be upset—upset at social injustices in our society, upset at the destruction of neighborhoods and businesses during riots, upset at the lack of civility in our society.
If we buy into the “wisdom” of our contemporary world, it’s seems the way to put things right in our society is through force. On one side, people march in the streets; some of them using violence to make their voices heard. Then, the other side responds with force and violence of their own.
As the world watches, it seems the only language Americans speak is one of brutality.
Believe it or not, the unrest we find ourselves in is nothing new. In fact, many of Jesus’s followers were hoping that the Christ, the anointed messiah who was to save them, would be a great military leader.
The Holy Land was occupied territory. The Romans ruled and, sometimes, they could be very brutal, desecrating the temple and murdering innocent victims. Herod, who was half Judean, and his sons worked for the Romans. To their own people, they were traitors.
Some of the Judeans responded to Roman military occupation by sending assassins to murder Roman officials during high feast days in Jerusalem. Their goal was to cause chaos and disrupt society. Sounds familiar.
So, as Jesus approached Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, people were expecting him to be the long awaited anointed military general who would call down angels from heaven and take the holy city by force. We think of the crowds as a peaceful celebration, but, in reality, it was a mob getting ready to riot. They were looking for victory over the Romans … a bloody victory.
But, Jesus didn’t play their political games. Jesus isn’t right or left. For him, following God’s commandments was much more important that following the wisdom of his world. God’s word says to love not just your neighbor but also your enemies, and this is precisely what Jesus had taught:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist the evildoer. But whoever strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other to him as well. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your coat also. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two. Give to the one who asks you, and do not reject the one who wants to borrow from you.” (Matthew 5:38-42)
Jesus didn’t respond to the Romans by marching in the streets. He didn’t respond with violence or brutality. Yes, Jesus is the anointed messiah, the long awaited king, but the kingdom Jesus was ushering in resisted in a new revolutionary way: the way of the cross.
So, as Jesus approaches Jerusalem, he doesn’t enter on the white stallion of a military general. Instead, he enters humbly on a donkey: a sign of peace as spoken by the prophet Zechariah:
“Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion!Shout, daughter of Jerusalem!
Look! Your king is coming to you:
He is legitimate and victorious,
humble and riding on a donkey —
on a young donkey, the foal of a female donkey.
I will remove the chariot from Ephraim
and the warhorse from Jerusalem,
and the battle bow will be removed.
Then he will announce peace to the nations.” (Zechariah 9:9-10)
All signs of war and violence will be gone, says the prophet. The violence is ended, not by resisting, but by letting it do its worst: murdering Christ on the cross.
In Christ’s crucifixion we see how our own violence contributes to the murder of innocent victims. We see our own fascination with war and riots, and we’re called to change our ways—to repent and pick up our own crosses to follow Christ.
So, this weekend, as we pick up our palm branches and shout, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel!” remember that this isn’t a cry of violent revolution, but a cry that will end with us witnessing our anointed King being enthroned on a cross between two thieves.
Palm Sunday isn’t a triumph; it’s an anti-triumph that invites us to lose to the Romans of our day by following Christ to the cross.