“Those who lose their life for my sake will save it” (a sermon for Palm Sunday)
A lot can happen in a week. Just ask Jesus. While Jesus is, rightly, the centre of
attention in the Gospel narratives of Holy Week, I’d like for us to consider this
morning the “elephants in Jerusalem”, i.e. the disciples. What were the disciples experiencing during
the final seven days of… “the-Present-Age phase of”… the life of Jesus? A lot happened for the disciples during Holy
Week. Dreams tittered on the brink of
fulfillment, only to be dashed to smithereens and then resurrected in a new
form, all in the space of eight sunsets.
Then again, the Bible tells us that God “made the heavens and the earth”
in the space of a week… the transition from an empty, watery chaos to an
ordered cosmos teeming with life was also quite a change – and perhaps the
Genesis story is a worthy template of how life so often goes. Our lives frequently swing to and fro between
chaos and stability, between job loss and the beginning of new careers, between
shattered relationships and new ones, between despairing disorientation and new
horizons gleaming with hope.
Back to
the disciples. In Mark’s narrative,
ever since Jesus asked them “Who do you say I am?” in chapter 8 – a question to
which Peter had replied, “You are the Messiah”, i.e. the one anointed to be king
of Israel – the disciples had thrilled to the thought that their Rabbi
was the king-in-waiting and they were his closest friends.
“They were on
the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were
amazed, and those who followed were afraid.” (Mk. 10.32)
Repeated, rather detailed predictions of Jesus’ coming
suffering and death notwithstanding, the apostles clearly expected the kingdom
of God to be established in Jerusalem very soon, with Jesus, a descendant of David,
enthroned in glory, victorious over the enemies of the people of God, as King David
had been all those centuries before. After
all, David himself had had to live as a king-in-waiting for many years while
Saul ruthlessly hunted him. But David’s
time had eventually come, and now, thought the disciples, so had Jesus’s.
Within the
logic of Mark’s Gospel, it is fitting that the last person Jesus sees before
his arrival in Jerusalem is both blind and – though blind – recognizes that he
is the Messiah (10.47-48). Granted,
James and John – who had approached Jesus right before the account of the
healing of Bar-Timaeus with their request for seats of “glory” either side of
Jesus (10.35-40) – also believe that Jesus is a king, but they remain “blind”
to what Jesus means by “glory”, as well as to the “throne” that Jesus will
occupy at the moment when he is flanked by men “on his right and on his left”
(cf. 15.27).
As Jesus
crests the Mount of Olives (11.1), overlooking the Kidron Valley with a clear
line of sight to the walls of Jerusalem crowning Mount Zion, he sends two of
his disciples into the village of Bethany with orders to commandeer a young
donkey for him. This is a fulfillment of
a prophetic dream of a king who would arrive, not on a war-horse, but on a
barnyard beast of burden. The prophet Zechariah
had envisioned a king victorious, but humble, an irenic warrior – who would
establish a kingdom of peace “to the ends of the earth”. It is hard to think of a more fitting image
for the type of Messiah that Jesus has been trying to teach his apostles he
is. As Jesus leads his triumphal
procession through the gates of Zion, the crowds of pilgrims hail the “coming
kingdom of our father David” (11.10).
David, of course, had been promised an eternal “house”, i.e.
dynasty. Yahweh had promised David that
there would always be one of his descendants (“sons”) on the throne of
Jerusalem. Hence, when Bar-Timaeus had
called Jesus the “Son of David”, this is precisely what he meant (cf.
10.47-48). It is finally time for the
kingdom – that Jesus had proclaimed since day one (cf. 1.15) – to be
established…but what exactly will that look like? Jesus did indeed come to Jerusalem to fight –
not with weapons, but with words. Like
Jeremiah before him, Jesus was convinced that the Temple and its hierarchy had
become hopelessly corrupt and were ripe for judgment. Jesus came to confront those same people who
had slandered him in Galilee, those who had accused him of being in league with
Satan and of being demon-possessed (cf. Mk. 3.22-30). Then, Jesus had accused his accusers of
blasphemy, and soon, they will return the favour (cf. 14.64).
Several
dark themes converge as Jesus enters Jerusalem and teaches day-by-day in the
Temple. Not only will Jesus suffer, but
Jesus predicts that his entire generation will experience a time of intense
suffering, not least of which will include the destruction of the Temple and
the city of Jerusalem (Mk. 13.1-2, 30).
Through all of these dark and traumatic events, the kingdom of God will
be established, as the crowd of pilgrims had sung during Jesus’ triumphal entry
(cf. Mk. 11.9-10). However, this kingdom
will not be won through victory…
Jesus came
to Jerusalem as a prophet of doom – to announce and enact the outpouring
of God’s wrath on the Temple, just as Jeremiah had done six centuries
earlier. There had always been a
prophetic dimension to Jesus’ mission.
In Galilee, Jesus had spent much time speaking “the word” (of God) to
the crowds who thronged around him in search of healing (cf. Mk. 2.2; 4.1-9,
33). The subject of Jesus’ message was
the kingdom of God (cf. 1.14-15; 4.26-32).
The prophets of ancient Israel had proclaimed oracles on behalf of
Yahweh; they had declared “This is what God says…” (e.g. Jer. 2.2, 5; 4.3;
5.14; 6.9, 16, 21-22; 7.3, 20-21, etc.).
However, Jesus never prefaced his words with this formula – he simply
spoke “the word” (cf. 1.21-22). As
people listened to Jesus’ parables and watched his healings/exorcisms, they
assumed that he was a prophetic figure like John the Baptist, Elijah or one of
the other prophets of old (cf. 6.14-15; 8.27-28).
Once Jesus
arrives in Jerusalem, he fully unveils the prophetic aspect of his
multi-faceted identity. Like Jeremiah
before him, Jesus was convinced that the national shrine and its hierarchy had
become hopelessly corrupt and was ripe for judgment. From the moment of his arrival in the
capital, Jesus launches an assault on the Temple – first, he curses a fig tree
and then proceeds to overturn the tables and chairs of the moneychangers
(quoting Jer. 7.11 as he does so), thus temporarily interrupting the routine of
sacrifices and mounting a very public challenge to the authority of the chief
priests (cf. 11.12-19, 27-33). Jesus’
adversaries immediately start looking for a way to kill him (11.18; this was a
typical reaction to prophetic activity: cf. Jer. 26.7-11), and are only delayed
in their plans by the presence of the crowd, who functions as Jesus’ bodyguard
for several days as he teaches in the Temple courts. Indeed, any words or actions that could be
interpreted as constituting a threat against the Temple were considered highly
treasonous and worthy of death (cf. Ac. 6.12-15; 7.47-60). In Mark chapter 13, Jesus offers a detailed
prophecy – as Jeremiah had done concerning Solomon’s Temple – of the
destruction of Herod’s Temple (cf. Jer. Chapters 7 and 26). Though Mark presents Jesus as having
proclaimed this prophecy in the presence of only four of his disciples
(13.1-4), during his trial before the Sanhedrin, Jesus is accused of having
spoken words against the Temple (14.55-59).
Evidently, word had spread about Jesus’ actions/messages against the
national shrine.
As he had
described in his parable of the wicked tenants, Jesus was the last in a long
line of messengers from Yahweh, spokesmen who had been despised and killed by
(the leaders of) the people of God (cf. 12.1-9). However, as the Psalmist had said, there
would be a vindication for the rejected Son:
“The stone
that the builders rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.
This is the Lord’s doing;
it is marvelous in our eyes.
This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118.21-24;
cf. Mk. 12.10-11)
The ruining
of lives. As it becomes apparent
that they are not, after all, the intimate associates of the soon-to-be-crowned
king, but rather the accomplices of a heretical rabble-rouser (a.k.a. a true prophet),
the disciples must have wondered if perhaps they had backed the wrong donkey. Their illusions of immanent grandeur evaporate
in the heat of the hatred directed against their master. They had come to Jerusalem thinking that all
their dreams were about to come true, that they were going to “live the Jewish
dream”; instead, they realize with mounting horror that they have left everything
behind for…what? To follow a
prophetic figure who, as it appears, is about to suffer a similar – or perhaps
worse – fate to that of John the Baptist.
The disciples find themselves up against the question that every prophet
(or prophet’s disciple) has to face: how does a servant of God measure
success?
As the late
spiritual writer Brendan Manning said of a late American singer-songwriter: “Jesus
of Nazareth ruined Rich Mullin’s life.
And out of the ruins he recreated a ragamuffin of startling originality;
no human being who has crossed my path even remotely resembles him”. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “When Christ calls
a wo/man to follow him, he bids them come and die”. As Jesus said to Ananias of Damascus about
Saul of Tarsus: “I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of
my name” (Ac. 9.16). As Paul, once he
had changed his name, said: “I regard everything as loss because of the
surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have
suffered the loss of all things…” (Phil. 3.8). As Paul said elsewhere: “I have been
crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live,
but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I
live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal.
2.19-20).
On
pursuing sainthood.[1]
American theologian and Bishop Robert Barron shares the anecdote
of a memorable exchange that a young Thomas Merton had with a friend, early on
in his life as a Christian, which led the young convert to conclude that his
Christian faith was not about getting his ideas straight, but rather a matter
of getting his life straight. The goal
of the Christian life is to become a saint, to walk the way of Jesus.[2]
Three paths
to holiness. To that end, Barron
presents his readers with three paths to holiness, as well as a set of
practices that embody each path and shape the desires of the pilgrim on the
way.
The first
path is “finding the center”, i.e. to encounter the love of God, the love of
the One who is the very act of being itself, the center of all reality. One of the spiritual practices that
demonstrates that one has found the center is, appropriately enough for Lent,
fasting. Fasting, the temporary refusal
to feed the many relatively superficial human needs, is designed to identify
and feed the truest human hunger, the need for God.[3]
The second
path is “knowing you’re a sinner”.
Barron insists that those who can freely acknowledge their sins are
participating in the center, i.e. they are on the path to sainthood. Those with the humility to confess their sin
and turn back (repent) to the center who is more than willing to forgive are
positioned to grow in godliness.[4]
The third
path is “realizing your life is not about you”.
Barron encourages his readers to embrace the “theo-drama” of which their
lives are a part. It is by living in
light of one’s God-given purpose – itself a part of the divine plan, a plan
that is not particularly concerned with one’s private “happiness” – that one
can experience true joy and freedom.[5] Barron concludes by once again putting his
readers at the foot of the cross, the same “place” where he begins his
work. As Jesus dies on Calvary, we
witness the love of the triune God in action, (literally) embodied. Jesus invites us to participate in that
divine and dangerous love, detaching ourselves from the chains of self. True “detachment” was experienced by him who
was himself attached to the cross, in utter abandonment to the Father’s
will. This is the mystery of life as
Jesus has revealed it to us – “whoever loses his life…will save it”.[6]
As they sang
Hosanna! On Palm Sunday, little did the disciples know that they were
singing a lament for the life upon which they thought they were about to embark
at the court of the king. Jesus had
brought them to Jerusalem to ruin their egocentric lives and allow their
God-centred lives to begin on the far side of the death of their “false selves”. As Thomas Merton said, “For me to be a saint
is to be myself”. Jesus called the
disciples in order to reveal to them who they really were. They were not courtiers and magistrates,
judges of Gentiles and arbiters of Messianic legislation – no, they were witnesses
to something to which the world is by and large blind and deaf. The disciples had been called to hear
the words of God spoken by God’s Son and to see the creative,
life-giving power of God at work in the King of Israel, the hands of whom are
the hands of a healer. Out of the chaos
of Good Friday, the Creator would once gain create something new…
So, what about you? Are you, like I so often find myself doing,
clinging to a selfish, self-aggrandizing, convenient and comfortable vision of
your life and your future? If so,
prepare to let that self-centred dream die and allow God’s dream for you to be
born. Abandon your role in the ego-drama
and embrace your place in the theo-drama.
There is no crown without the cross.
But if we can firmly resolve to finish Lent by being crucified with
Christ (yet again), then, and only then, can we hope to taste the glorious reality
of Easter. Jesus makes all things new
and has made all things beautiful in his time.
Amen.
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