Palm Sunday starts the most solemn week of the year for Christians.
We remember the crowds acclaim Jesus as King as he rode into Jerusalem; they lay palm branches and cloaks before him on the road. A few days later those same crowds bayed for his blood – a reminder to all who lead how fickle the crowds can be.
In a short video, the Revd Andy Braunston, Minister for Digital Worship for the United Reformed Church, offers this reflection for Holy Week:
What kind of King are you, Lord? We’ve got a king again now; and we’ve known of kings for years. Kings wear crowns, have retainers and flunkeys, command armies, live in unimaginable wealth, have stories fed to the press to keep the positive news flowing – though that doesn’t always work of course. Kings have families who we are taught to honour and respect. Kings have security – discrete agents, hidden weapons, and security vetting.
Yet none of that seems to be accurate for you. You were born in a stable, not a palace. Your first years were spent in exile not private school. You didn’t wear a crown – you seemed to own nothing except your clothes. When you were crowned it was with thorns as a cruel mockery of your reign. You had disciples not flunkeys – and some of them weren’t very reliable. You had no armies to command, no weapons to rely on. No press in your day of course but I can’t imagine you having stories planted on the sly. You had heaven’s armies to protect you – but they didn’t do a good job now did they? What type of king are you, Lord?
What type of priest are you, Lord? We know about priests – though we have lots of different names for them – ministers, vicars, pastors, presbyters – but the job’s the same. They have to look holy, often wear odd clothing, tell of God’s actions, be a bit distant, mix with the right people – marry the type of person who is acceptable in a range of settings. They have to balance being radical with being careful, navigate a plethora of difficult people with tact and, often, seem to follow establishment lines. They have to be creative in liturgy honouring both tradition and change.
Yet none of that seems to be accurate for you. We don’t know where you trained but your command of the Bible and its teachings is second to none. You didn’t seem to look that holy, you didn’t keep that professional distance that ministers are supposed to have. You really mixed with the wrong people – sex workers, collaborators, and dirty gentiles. Your marital status would have led to some questions at a ministry interview – close to John and Mary; that would have raised some eyebrows. And what about tact? You really can’t call people “whitewashed tombs” and get away with it! You can’t call the king a “fox”! (See my earlier comments, Lord, about kings.) I learned very early on in my ministry not to call the church members “morons” – yet you always seemed to be doing that. You called the religious people “snakes and vipers” and implied some people are pigs. All I can say is it’s good you didn’t have a difficult Eldership to work with! You’d not have lasted long. And your preaching … not very focused on the Establishment was it? You seemed to sit fast and loose with tradition – stretching laws to breaking points, reinventing liturgy, bringing new meanings and offering mystery not explanation. What type of priest are you, Lord?
What type of leader are you Lord? Leaders have to be slick; they need mission statements and visions for the future. They have focus groups quietly working out what’s the best way to get a hearing. Leaders now avoid saying what they really think but want, instead, to please their base. Leaders offer cheap tricks where they blame outsiders for the ills of the world and build themselves up. Leaders need to be popular – don’t you know that, Lord?
Yet none of this seems to be accurate for you. That nice rich guy who wanted to follow you – you told him to give away all that he had! Come on, wouldn’t a nice donation have been good enough? Your message is memorable, I’ll give you that, but would it get through a focus group. Turn the other cheek? Love your enemies? If asked for our coat we have to give our shirt as well! See you in the poor and naked and hungry and imprisoned! And then there’s all that stuff on money. You just wouldn’t get a hearing now Lord. Couldn’t you offer a bit of cheap grace now and again – Your Church often does after all! You didn’t seem to please your base either – you were nasty to the Pharisees and often told Jewish people that gentiles were more righteous than them. You didn’t find a scapegoat for social problems did you Lord? Look where that ended you up. What type of leader are you, Lord?
What type of victory did you win Lord? Victory is, well victorious Lord. It involves, often, bloodshed, stunning military or political tactics, the vanquished foe being left to slither away, or being put on trial for their crimes. Victory is about triumph, noise, joy, pomp, marches, celebrations.
Yet none of this seems to be accurate for you. You let yourself be captured. You let Judas, of all people, betray you. You were rude to the High Priests and so wilful to Pilate. You could have summoned the angels and have had a bit of smiting there. That would have been a victory; that would have unseated the might of Rome – imagine the songs your mum would have sung then! Instead, you let them release the insurgent and drag you off to Calvary. You let them strip you naked – where’s the victory there? Where’s the dignity? You let them nail you to the Cross and then be left to slowly suffocate. That’s not victorious! You let them mock you, hang a sarcastic sign over your head, torment you with temptation to summon High Heaven’s Host – that would have shown them if you’d done that! Imagine their faces if Michael had been let loose there on Calvary; imagine if Gabriel had done his thing with the Chief Priests! That would have been victorious. Yet you forgave the centurion and his guard. You promised paradise to a good for nothing thief – you didn’t even check he believed the right things.
And then you cried with anger, pain, and desolation, turning the ancient Psalm back on God, knowing you’d been forsaken. That’s not victory. What type of victory is that?
Image: Wilhelm Morgner/Wikimedia/Public Domain.
