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"Passion, Confrontation, and Commitment"
Looked at from the perspective of the realist, the triumphal entry was not a wise act. It was confronting, deliberate, and certainly looked terminal for Jesus and his movement. Enacted on Sunday, the end result is Jesus' death on Friday. The realist could argue: Jesus, don't make yourself a martyr. You could be a vital force in Galilee and Jerusalem. You have a large following; you have a good teaching technique. Why do this? What would it accomplish? All of that is realistic, solid advice. But will it, if heeded, deal with the problem? The answer is no. For such realism is the most subtle form of self-love.
It is this self-love which cripples the modern world. Politics and planning will have their place, but we fool ourselves if we believe that these will create community. In this, the great need of our times, there is hope only in the ways of sacrifice and love creating new relationships among human beings. The cross shows the way where no one is shut out, for the arms marked by the wounds of love bind human beings to God and to one another. Jesus knew this long ago. And that's why he couldn't be a realist. He knew the price was far greater than the realist could ever fathom. The triumphal entry is a provocative act. When Jesus got on that donkey, he was pretty direct. Some things were being said that we need to hear. For this is the time chosen by Jesus to make his stand for the kingdom. Jesus arranges the events and the entry himself. All concern for secrecy is gone. It is deliberate, and we have to make choices because of it. We have to be as deliberate. In our attempts to understand other people, their acts of creativity and self-destruction remain obscure to us until we grasp the passion that fires their hearts and the cause or occasion that brought the passion to birth in them. We need to know and understand their dominate commitment. The question of life is always whether our or anyone else's dominate cause is truly worthy of allegiance, of becoming the crimson thread through which we spin our identity. And Jesus is always by example and teaching constantly posing this question precisely because his own identity hinges so transparently upon radical devotion to God. The cause to which Jesus is loyal and to which he calls others is the power that governs all things, God. And when he got on that donkey he challenges us to grasp his dominate cause as our own. He forces us to put aside questions of self-love and advice that are realistic. This is the time of decision that impacts all of life. Jesus' vision is clear, his planning has been careful. He now makes the claim: I am the messiah. Accept that I am the authoritative one about whom Zechariah spoke, worthy to receive worship in the temple, legitimate Judge of Israel's worship, and of ours as well. Jesus' act creates a crisis of authority. Those agonizing questions: why am I here? and why do I do what I do? are pressed upon his followers. He declares in no uncertain terms, "You must reckon with my authority." He rejects our right to pass judgment on the situation from our perspective. The issue is simple: whether we will follow or not. He forces us to decide. Either he has the answers to life's basic questions or not. He calls us to follow, more he challenges us to follow. No fence sitting this. He exhibits publicly his royal status. He is king whether the disciples will have it so, or we will have it so. "You all must deal with me," he says. Usually that is understood in an evangelistic mode: we make him savior, and go on our way, merry or otherwise. No! He is also king. True, he is gentle, compassionate, caring, but king nevertheless. It is easy for us to think that by celebrating Palm Sunday we acknowledge Jesus as king in a way Jerusalem failed to do. No, their danger is our danger. Do we use our religion as a source of security instead of allowing ourselves to be remade by it? Do lesser loyalties push this king aside? Those loyalties will fail. They are not our dominant cause. None of them is sufficient to invest life with meaning; none of them is truly worthy of ultimate allegiance. Jesus' passion of allegiance to God drives him in service, sacrifice, and suffering. His passionate commitment is not calming and stabilizing. It is a bit scary to see, especially because we like to pick and choose our passions. That is true of churches as well. Are we uncomfortable with passion and commitment that is not calm and stabilizing? Jesus' passion overrides realism and self-protection. When I went to the Middle East I was passionate about its archaeology, but something happened and I became passionate about its people too. I went to the land called Holy, but that land is the home of some people now and I must be concerned about them. I learned that we often don't get to pick our passions or commitments, they are given to us, they are gifts of grace. The real rub is to recognize them. And on Palm Sunday the message is clear: we have a king and it isn't any of us! And we must follow him by sharing his dominant loyalty, his devotion to God. That is his way, and it must be ours: obedience to God, even unto death. That is the way of trust in and loyalty to God. In the end we must throw ourselves on the mercy of this gentle king who alone can heal our blindness and give us the strength of character and courage to follow in his steps. The Palm Sunday challenge is this: do we not see that we have a king we serve, commit to, live with, study, and follow to the end and beyond. And we do that not on our terms, but on his. When we want to be realistic, he is passionate and committed in ways that challenge our realism. He is the one who imparts the power of God that turns people from sin and sets them on the way to God's kingdom. This power is the power to change hearts, to engender confidence in and loyalty to God and God alone as the dominant, orienting devotion of life. It is vital that he is savior, but if he is not king also what good is it? He is king! Alleluia! It's time to start following him come what may! |
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Harry Daniel