Zechariah 9:9-10; Luke 19:28-42a
Palm Sunday: March 28, 2010
Today is the final Sunday of Lent. Throughout Lent we have been talking about ways to draw closer to God. We are diverse people, with different spirituality types. The ways we draw close to God differ, and each is as valid as the next. For that matter, the ways we understand the God to whom we would like to draw near differ greatly. But, the goal is the same – to connect with the divine as best as we can. We have talked about the head folks, the heart folks, the pilgrims, the servants and the mystics. Today, we will talk about the reformer types.
It is, of course, Palm Sunday, and Palm Sunday is especially apropos for the reformer types. We are facing holy week – a showdown between Jesus and the religious and political authorities. I think it’s worth our time each year to briefly set the stage on which our Palm Sunday texts take place. This is a parade that mimics, probably mocks, the royal parade of the king set to enter Jerusalem from the other side. And that is not lost on those present. “Blessed is the One who comes in God’s name!” they shout. This is King language. This is an ancient refrain used for the great kings when they pass by in a parade. They are calling Jesus the new King. And this king will replace the one who currently rules. There are two parades, and they are fated to meet in the middle of Jerusalem. In the minds of many gathered that day, this is the beginning of a coup.
Everyone knew this confrontation, this meeting of the current ruler and hopeful, new one would be violent, because the Romans did not take kindly to challenges to their authority. The Pharisees knew this; they were there that day too – watching this mock parade, and they pled with Jesus, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” Whether they said this to protect Jesus and his disciples or because they, like the Romans, wanted to silence them, they give us proof that people knew this was an aggravating move on Jesus’ part. They knew it was a direct challenge to those in power. It wouldn’t go unnoticed. The other thing that was clear was that many gathered there that day, the crowds, the disciples and even the Pharisees, thought Jesus had a good chance of prevailing. That was good news to some and distressing news to others. But the fact remained, it seemed like this reformer might just win!
But Jesus proved to be a reformer of a different type. He would “win”, but not in the way many expected. In the telling of this Palm Sunday drama, Luke harkens back to the prophet Zechariah. Zechariah looks forward to the time when God will send a great reformer to reverse the oppressive systems of the day and restore all the tribes of Israel. But Zechariah knows that God’s reformer would be quite different than the militant rulers of his day. This reformer would be a humble ruler riding on a donkey who completely rejects the tactics of other rulers and nations.
Zechariah talks about how God’s ruler will deal with the invaders and oppressors of the Israelite people. Instead of engaging them in a war, this new kind of ruler will abolish war completely. Zechariah says this one will get rid of the military chariots and rid Jerusalem of war; not through violence but rather this ruler, to quote the prophet, “shall command peace”.
For Luke and the early Christians, Jesus was this new ruler. Luke was setting Jesus up as an alternative king to the Roman kings of his day. But, Jesus was Zechariah’s strange king. He is humble, riding on a donkey, and ready to meet the Romans and to engage them as no one had before. This Messiah was the one Luke foreshadowed from the very beginning of his gospel. Think back to the Christmas story and the words the angels spoke. Jesus was the son of humble parents, who came riding on a donkey, to give birth in the most humble of settings. And the angels sang not of his conquering power, but of the good news that he will bring peace on earth for all. This is the messiah Luke presents from the very beginning, and it’s not exactly the Messiah the people expected as they laid their coats on the ground in front of Jesus and sang Jesus’ praises, hailing him as a they would a king when he sat that day on donkey, ready to make his way to Jerusalem.
The seen is so ironic. The people are celebrating the Messiah, but they don’t know yet that this Messiah – the true reformer – is a collapsed figure on a cross. Their cheers are not just premature, they would quickly turn silent if they really knew what was about to happen. This new king of theirs was going to disappoint all of their expectations. The people did not understand this, making them seem a bit foolish in their grand celebration.
But Luke, the author and crafter of this scene, had already embraced Jesus’ way of life, even in light of his death on the cross. Luke writes from this side of the cross, and from his perspective, the “failure” of Jesus is his success. For Luke, what was coming next was, in fact, to be celebrated but not for the reasons the people assumed. Luke celebrates because Jesus would choose the way of peace – without compromise regardless of the consequences. And that way would be vindicated in the resurrection. For Luke, Jesus was the ultimate reformer – he would reform the world not by conquering the enemy, but by offering an entirely different way to engage enemies and powerful systems; Jesus wasn’t just reforming politics or religion, he was reforming human nature itself.
Luke had further reason to celebrate what Jesus was about to do. He knew that Jesus would not be the last reformer to choose such a path. This is what Jesus himself is saying when, in response to the Pharisees’ request that the disciples put a stop to the show, he says, “I tell you, even if they were silent, the stones would cry out!” And so it has been – many reformers of Jesus’ ilk have followed in his footsteps these past 2000 years. These reformers are the stones crying out. They cry out against injustice, against the oppressors and systems that dehumanize, and they choose the way of peace. No matter what happened that day, Jesus knew God was not done and that God’s word – God’s way – cannot be silenced or suppressed…at least not for long.
Jesus’ assurance that the stones would cry out leaves us, and every generation, with a question: Who will cry out now? Who will carry the message of peace forward with their very lives? Who will continue to reform human nature and offer that new way of being human in this broken world? This is where the reformer types among us come in.
Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun, tells of an old rabbinic saying that goes like this: “The miracle of the Red Sea is not the parting of the waters. The miracle of the Red Sea is that with a wall of water on each side, the first Jew walked through.” Yes, we have the resurrection, which many would call a miracle, but maybe the real miracle is that with the cross waiting for him, Jesus got on the donkey and rode in to Jerusalem anyway. The knowledge that he might die if he stays faithful to God is Jesus’ version of stepping out when the walls of water surround him. And that miracle is replayed again and again when anyone follows in his footsteps. Jesus led the way – ending up on the cross. The miracle is when people choose to follow him.
Chittister goes on to write, “Just as surely as there was need for courage at the Red Sea, just as surely as there was need for courage on Jesus' last trip to Jerusalem, there is need for it here and now, as well.” The reformers are the courageous ones today – the ones who cry out – the ones who see where God parts the waters and then dare to walk through with walls of water surrounding them, threatening to consume them at any moment. All God can do is part the waters. We decide whether or not we will walk through the parting waters of our own lives today.
Now, I admit: It doesn’t exactly sound appealing, the way of the reformer. Jesus did, after all, end up on the cross, not on a throne with a jeweled crown upon his head. If you are thinking you are a reformer type, you might be frantically trying to figure out if you can change to something else. The life of a mystic sounds a bit more peaceful, you think to yourself. None of this confrontation with the powerful, give me sweet, mystical union instead. The way of Jesus is one big set up to lose in the end – to end up a collapsed figure on a cross. Why do it?
Because, as we see in Jesus, being a faithful reformer in the Christian tradition is not about “winning” and “losing”, even though that’s how the world often casts it. Being a reformer is a spiritual way of life, and if this is your spiritual type, the actions themselves draw you closer to God. You don’t have to “win” to please God. Success is measured not by “winning” but by being in relationship with all those who have hung on the cross with Jesus – to be in solidarity with all who suffer at the hands of the powerful. It’s the relationships that matter – it’s the relationships that truly change the world.
Being a reformer is answering the question, “who will cry out today?” with, “I will – that’s who.” And that alone is enough sometimes. That keeps the way of Jesus alive. Again, Chittister writes, “There are those who keep on shouting, who keep on telling the story even to those with no ears to hear. Over and over again they cry out. But is it worth it?” she asks. “Did the disciples on the road to Jerusalem make any difference at all?” And her answer comes: “It got our attention, didn’t it?”
The world needs reformers. Reformers are big picture people, and someone needs to be minding the big picture. Reformers give us all perspective; not just because they will compel us to address more systemic problems, but because the big pictures takes us out of ourselves. The life of faith is not just about us and the people we know. All of creation is broken, and although we can’t expect to accomplish it, we should be working to mend the cracks, and in this work we will get to know the God that suffers. We will know the God of the cross. And our deep knowledge of such a God will, in the end, enrich our knowledge of the God of the resurrection.
For reformers, the spiritual practices tend to be public ones. They engage the world, and the powerful. They engage the lives of the suffering who have been long forgotten. To nurture the reformer in you, you can do things like participate in non-violent protests and marches, lobby for systemic change, start grassroots movements. I also think a very basic practice is to find ways, both big and small, to cry out. To be a voice for peaceful ways in a violent world. To be a voice that points not just to the resurrection, but to the cross – to those who are still suffering even after the resurrection event so long ago. Reformers highlight the ways in which this world doesn’t match up with the realm of God. Crying out is how you will draw close to God. Being with the suffering and working to change it is to be with the God who suffers on the cross and the God who changes everything in the resurrection.
The life of a reformer can be hard. But if that’s your spiritual type, embrace it. We need you. “[W]e all find ourselves in a crowd on the noisy, sweaty road to Jerusalem, caught between the Pharisees and Jesus. Caught between the keepers of the system and the word of God. Caught between the stability of the past and the painful beginning of a new future where, deep down, we know we hear the deniers denying him and mourners crying for his absence and the question hanging in the air: Who will cry out?” And we answer: “The reformers: that’s who.” Amen.
