SUNDAY: RESURRECTION
Today we celebrate the resurrection - the moment God exerted his power, raising Jesus from the dead. As U2 sings, “… the stone it has been moved, the grave is now a groove, all debts are removed."The journey to the empty tomb began 46 days ago on Ash Wednesday. During the Lenten Season, we dig into the muck and mire of our own souls. In prayers and practices of repentance, accompanied by fasting, we are reminded of our own depravity and our need for God’s renewal and healing. During Lent, the dark season of the church calendar, we anticipate the celebration of Easter.And we know our story does not end in ashes, but in the hope of the resurrection. Through Good Friday and Holy Saturday, we wait until we wake up on Sunday … and then resurrection. We celebrate, dress up, many attend a church gathering and we eat large meals with friends. We celebrate the moment on which millions place our hope. But then it ends.Monday comes and we move on with our routines, and for the most part, Easter is over until next year. Why do many of us spend so much time building up toward Easter, but then experience such an abrupt halt the day after?If we spend at least forty days preparing, shouldn't we spend at least forty days after celebrating? (This is the beauty of the Liturgical Calendar keeping the resurrection as a part of our celebration until Ascension Sunday.)If we removed Christmas from the Bible we would lose a couple of chapters from Gospel of Matthew and a few from the Gospel of Luke. If we removed Easter from the Bible we would lose the New Testament. Yet Easter, as a day, is a blip on the radar in our yearly calendar.Shouldn’t we spend more time celebrating the resurrection – at least more than one Sunday when we dress up? The Church is a community based on the resurrection. The Church is called to be a people who live as a resurrection community – that is a community of hope.Luke tells an interesting story in his Gospel. After Jesus has risen two of his followers are walking to a town called Emmaus. They are in intense discussion as they walk along the road, and they are joined by a stranger, who is Jesus, but they do not recognize him.The stranger asks them what is going on, and they reply “Are you not from Jerusalem, don’t you know what has happened here in the last few days?” They simply are confused as to why Jesus was killed, and why his tomb is empty. The stranger then tells them about what was really going on. Luke says, “Beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.”Jesus reframes the story of the Hebrew Scriptures. He shifts their common paradigm. The resurrection sheds a whole new light on the Scriptures. It is a whole new story. A story that gives these disciples a new way of living, thinking, and seeing.This is what Easter does. It reframes our story. It shifts the world in which we live. It gives those who follow Jesus, not just something to believe in, but an entirely new creation. This is something certainly worth celebrating, but not just for one day.If Easter reframes our story that means everyday we ought to live in light of its hope everyday. We ought to remember, proclaim, live out, and celebrate Easter all year long as a resurrection community. So how about it? How can we live out the resurrection … tomorrow?
SATURDAY: JESUS WENT TO HELL
Suggested Reading: Matthew 25.31-46; Mark 15.42-47
Jesus' body was laid in a tomb, and then he went to hell. This is by far the most curious claim of the Apostles Creed, which is an early statement of Christian belief that has endured for centuries (read it here). And this claim brings us right to the doorstep of a conversation that, for many, lies at the center of the Christian faith. I'm speaking, of course, of heaven and hell.
How one thinks about heaven, hell, eternity and the destiny of human beings is an often inflammatory topic filled with disagreement. And one of the central discussion points about heaven and hell is around who goes where. Better stated as a question about heaven, “Who gets in?” And I think this question will forever be one that will be debated for many reasons.
I have often said the question we will hear most in heaven is the question, “Where is so-and-so?” Or maybe the question we will hear more often is, “How did they get in here?”
We may feel comfortable raising discussion around the first question, “Where is so-and-so?” We confidently point to Jesus' saying, “I never knew you. Away from me!” (Matthew 7.23) We see these words as a warning. I've sat through many sermons in which I was challenged to consider the implications of these words.
But the second question of, “How did they get in here?” seems to be more difficult. In my experience, those who believe they will end up in heaven do not like to consider who else may possibly be there - far from it! For some reason we seem more comfortable making absolutist statements about who will most certainly be consigned to hell. But we if we are to interact with the first question, we must also interact with this second question as well.
Let's not forget, central to the Christian faith is the person of Jesus. It is widely accepted that belief in Jesus is necessary for salvation and life in heaven. This, many claim, is the narrow gate and the narrow road the lead to life. The confusion comes in when many live as though they have happened upon thee narrow road and thee narrow gate. But what do we do when different groups within Christendom claim to be on the narrow road, and the narrow roads are different. Who is right?
Some speak confidently about the narrow road and believe their way is true. Others, while describing a similar road, are insistent on certain core essentials that make their road more narrow. Others have a road that is perhaps a bit wider and are considered, by some, to be too generous. So which road does one need to be on and which gate should we enter through?
Are there certain things that we absolutely have to be right about in order to get in? Is there only one thing? And if there is only one thing, then exactly what are we supposed to believe about it? Are there other things you can be wrong about and still get in? If so, what are the right things to be wrong about?
This can all get confusing quite quickly. But for many believing the right thing is central in determining one’s entrance into heaven or descent into hell. It's possible this may be shortsighted.
God is not going to ask all humans who have ever lived for an eight, ten, or even fifteen point doctrinal statement when we stand before him someday. We have to recognize that all of us, even the most brilliant scholars, theologians, and philosophers are wrong about a lot. In light of the universe we inhabit we struggle to truly see the tips of our noses.
Maybe a good starting point for all of us is to be honest about how little we know.
To make heaven and hell about a particular set of beliefs, what one knows, what we should know, a doctrine, or the way we think is to ever so slightly move the conversation away from the real miracle – that God in the person of Jesus came to any of us in the first place. The only reason any of us are able to have this conversation, write books about this subject or write blogs in reflection is because of the goodness, faithfulness, mercy, grace and love of God. He is the reason anyone will dwell with him in the life to come.
Who are we to make the road narrower? Who are we to guard the gate to eternal life? We ought to very careful we do not become guilty of shutting "the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces." Jesus had harsh words for those who did that, and pointed to the fact that those who do don't enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and asks them how they will “escape being condemned to hell” (See Matthew 23).
Many seem very comfortable drawing clear boundaries around who is “in” and who is not. What’s interesting is every religious person draws those boundaries based on the belief they are "in." Maybe this should tell us something about the way we view ourselves, those who are not like us, the world, and the life to come.
In approaching conversations of heaven and hell we must always remember how far God has gone to reach out to humanity. He is one who came to us, was obedient to death and even descended into hell. Who’s to draw boundaries for how far he continues to go in our world today?
Who knows, maybe the thing we will hear the most in heaven is, “Wow, there are a lot more people than I ever imagined.”
FRIDAY: WEAK IS THE NEW STRONG
Suggested Reading: Mark 15; Colossians 1.15-23
On this Good Friday, I have been contemplating how weak Jesus was. I say this because our understanding of strength and weakness is too often defined by our culture. In our world might makes right. The one who is justified at the end of a debate, argument, or battle is the one who is able to silence his or her opponent by any means necessary.
It’s common to see people slandering others with whom they disagree, and never give it a second thought. We make those who think differently than us out to be idiots, and tell ourselves we are right. Hostile rhetoric is considered strong, and widely accepted, implemented and supported by those who self-identify as Christians. Those who take action, dash another to pieces, or “stand-up” for themselves are thought to be strong.
A few weeks ago a friend of mine mused about Jesus driving moneychangers out of the temple with whips. He talked about how Jesus “powered up” and “opened up a can.” All his talk made it sound like Jesus was strong. But this may not be the best picture of Jesus.
Let’s not forget what happened right before he tossed a few tables in the Temple. Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. A donkey was an animal of peace, which was in contrast to a horse that was an animal of war. Kings rode horses. Generals rode horses. War heroes rode horses. Jesus rode a donkey.
Luke, in his gospel, wrote that as Jesus rode into Jerusalem, he cried. Jesus wept. His sorrow for those who were about to kill him was too much. He longed for their salvation, their peace, and their healing but it was too late. It was with this sorrow-laden heart that Jesus went into the temple. Was he angry? Sure, but his anger came out of a broken heart.
When we view Jesus as an angry cuss who “opened a can” against a bunch of crooks we may be seeing something that is not there. There was never an ounce of ego in the anger of Jesus. He operated out of a broken heart filled with love, not a heart filled with violence. What we often mistake as strength in our world is nothing more than violent weakness - that was never in the heart of Jesus, and it is never in the heart of God either.
Throughout the Bible we learn of a God who is heart broken over the plight of humans. Which of course raises the questions, “What kind of cosmic deity would ever let his heart be broken by mere mortals?” That sounds weak doesn’t it? In the ancient world deities were fierce, powerful, and didn’t tolerate the whims of mortals. Not this one; God grieved in his heart for humanity.
It is this cosmic deity that came and lived among us in the person of Jesus. The one who was, on this Good Friday, led like a lamb to the slaughter. He was punched, mocked, falsely accused, spit on, beaten, and slandered yet never opened his mouth.
He was nailed to a Roman instrument of execution and taunted. Those who hated him said, “What’s wrong Jesus? Can’t you get down from that cross?” What they are really saying is, “Aren’t you strong enough?”
The answer is, of course, “Yes. He was strong enough.”
Strong enough to stay on that damnable stake that was a curse to humanity. Strong enough to look at those who were beating him with a whip and love them. Strong enough to not hit back. Strong enough to not return an insult. Strong enough to say, as he neared death, “Hey Dad, forgive those who are doing this to me because they don’t get what they are doing.”
If Jesus had of called an army of angels, crushed the Romans, and defeated those who were corrupt and oppressive he would have simply played the same tired game humanity has played since the dawn of time that says violence, power and might are what wins because that is what is strong.
Thankfully, Jesus did not play that game, because he knew that’s nothing but weakness. Jesus took an instrument of violence and power, and suffered on it in total weakness putting on display what true strength is.
This is why Paul said on the cross Jesus “disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (Colossians 2.15). People in Rome would have laughed at the sentence. They would have thought Paul was out of his mind to think any victim of crucifixion “triumphed.”
They did not triumph. They died. In the mind of the Romans the cross showed the power the Roman Empire. It was a symbol of their political and military strength. Yet, Jesus bled and died on a cross and he triumphed, and that is the real victory. Because if the cross was the greatest weapon of Rome, and Jesus defeated it, then what power do they have left?
What looked like weakness was really strength.
And therein lies the upside-down nature of true power in the Kingdom of Heaven. It takes real strength to swallow your ego and not return an insult. It takes deep strength to bless those who persecute you. It takes tremendous power to love your enemies and pray for them. It takes supernatural might to forgive those who have wounded you. In the context of the Kingdom of heaven what is weak is strong.
As we move through our day on this Good Friday may we struggle to come to grips with this mystery that tells us that unless we die we cannot live. This mystery that tells us until we release others in forgiveness we will never be free. This mystery tells us that weak is the new strong.
In doing so may we become weak, and may we have the eyes to see that our perception of Jesus is often too weak. May we come to truly contemplate his weakness put on display on the cross, so that we may be awed by his incomparable strength.
THURSDAY: BREAD, WINE, DEATH AND LIFE
Suggested Reading: Mark 14.12-26; Romans 8.31-39
On Thursday evening, Jesus sat with his disciples, gave thanks, broke the bread and said, “This is my body given for you…” (Luke 22.19). He then took a cup of wine and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Luke 22.20). While these words may be common for us today; when they were first spoken they were ground breaking.
Jesus introduced his disciples to the reality that sometimes death brings life.
This time the broken body, the spilled blood and the death would be his. And in a way no one expected – that death would bring life. This is the great mystery of the Eucharist, and something we remember and proclaim each time we participate in it.
Several weeks ago, on Ash Wednesday, my friend Luis looked me in the eyes and said, “From dust you have come and to dust you will return,” as he smeared ashes on my head in the shape of a cross. Luis reminded me I am broken, I have darkness within me and I too will one day die and be buried. But the ashes and the words he spoke to me were liberating. Because in this moment of acknowledging my own mortality; the light of life within me flickered a little brighter.
This is how it is in the Kingdom of Heaven. It has the audacity to claim that death is the very thing that brings life. This was seen in the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He was assassinated just over forty-six years ago. His murderer intended to silence the voice of Dr. King, and halt a movement. But what the assassin, and those who wanted King dead, didn’t know is that his death wouldn’t stop anything. More than a year before King was killed he said in an interview, “I feel though, that my cause is so right, so moral, that if I should lose my life, in some way it would aid the cause.” Dr. King knew that sometimes death brings life.
This is what we are reminded of each time we participate in Eucharist. We break the bread, as the body that was broken for the healing of the world. We drink the wine as the blood that was poured out for the renewal of the world. When we do this, we proclaim the death of Jesus, and declare that death brings life. This is in stark contrast to our normal way of thinking.
We believe that death brings … well, death. That’s it. Finished. Done. Over. Gone. This is the pattern we observe in our world.
Over the last several weeks here in Denver we have experienced a lot of sun and warmth. There are buds on the trees, flowers are fighting their way out of the soil and weeds are crawling through the cracks of driveways. Spring is springing; it’s the beginning of life. We experience this and know all the new life we see right now will die. In a few months, the cold will, once again, descend on us, the leaves will fall, weeds will wither and flowers will be clipped. We begin with life and end with death.
However, the cross tells a new story. Death no longer has the last word. In fact, death is the beginning, for death brings life. Death can “aid the cause” not end it. This is what Paul mean when he quoted the Psalmist in Romans 8 saying, “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered,” (Romans 8.36). He finishes this thought by writing, “But in all these things we win a sweeping victory through the one who loved us,” (Romans 8.37, CEB).
Being “put to death” wins a “sweeping victory?”
These words from Paul reflected his understanding of the new reality brought “through the one who loved us.” This is our reality, and it changes everything. Jesus, stared down the powers of sin and death and said, “Do your worst.” And they did. But he came out the other side alive. Death no longer had the final say, because death gave birth to life.
This mystery is throughout the scriptures. It is heard in the words of Jesus when he said, “… unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds,” (John 12.23). Jesus taught death brings forth life. Its’ this mystery, this upside-down story, that tells us that life, not death, has the last word. This is the real story that’s being told in history. As Martin Buber teaches,“The victories that we typically honor and celebrate are not the truest victories. The triumphs that capture our attention and that we herald so much are nothing more than stage-dressing for the larger story of human history. If we keep our eyes fixed on the foreground, the true victories, won in secret, sometimes look like defeats. True victories happen slowly and imperceptibly, but they have far reaching effects. In the limelight, our faith that God is the Lord of history may sometimes appear ludicrous; but there is something secret in history that confirms our faith” (From - If Not Now, When?)
Paul can say being put to death brings sweeping victory. Dr. King can say his death would aid the cause of liberation and equality. And the Eucharist teaches us we are free to die so that we can finally live. This is what we proclaim each time we participate in the Eucharist. And the invitation for the people of God is to be is to be those who, like Jesus, are broken and poured out for our world. While this may look and sound like defeat, may we not forget this is the true victory. It is then we become a living Eucharist; a means of grace in which we proclaim, with Jesus, that death brings life, because, after all is said and done - life that has the last word.
WEDNESDAY: LEPERS, PERFUME AND BETRAYAL
Suggested Reading: Mark 8.31-38; Mark 9.30-37; Mark 10.32-45; Mark 14.1-11
Jesus talked a lot about dying, and few wanted to hear what he had to say. All except a woman who seemed to understand perfectly.
In Mark’s gospel Jesus clearly states on 3 separate occasions he will be killed. His disciples show their skill at missing the point. While Jesus showed them the path to life is not one of ascent but descent – they continue to argue about who is the greatest.
Then, on the Wednesday evening before Jesus’ death, he and his disciples recline at a meal at the home of Simon the Leper. Just before Mark wrote about the meal Mark shared this detail, “… the chief priests and the teachers of the law were scheming to arrest Jesus secretly and kill him” (Mark 14.1). At this point the predictions by Jesus of his own death seem to be a forgone conclusion. Even so, his disciples still miss what is happening in their midst.
All of that changes however, when a woman shows her understanding. In the middle of the meal, at a table surrounded by men, a she entered the room and poured perfume on Jesus. And this was not just any perfume.
This would have come at great cost to this woman. A jar of this kind of perfume was expensive. Think life-savings-expensive. Think retirement-plan-expensive. Some scholars suggest a jar of perfume like this could have been a family heirloom. Something so costly that it was passed from one generation to the other. And the woman didn’t just drizzle a little on Jesus. She broke the jar and poured it all out on him. She did’t hold back anything. It was an unbelievable moment - one to which the disciples objected. Why?
They contended the money from the sale of the perfume could be used for something better like caring for the poor. This sounded good, and had some truth to it, but what they really did, once again, is miss the point. And Jesus immediately jumped in. He quickly pointed out this woman anointed him for burial. Of course, to be buried one first has to die. Which means, this was another prediction by Jesus of his impending death.
There he was, surrounded by his closest disciples, all of whom had no idea what he was talking about and a woman – whose name we never learn – stepped in and showed she knew exactly what he was talking about. Her expensive act reflected her understanding of Jesus’ death. Not only that, but it showed her willingness to also give up something that would cost her.
In the midst of the disciples failure to understand; she understood perfectly. In the midst of the disciples desire for power and prestige; she gave selflessly.
Then the story Mark recorded takes a dark turn. He wrote, “… Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them” (Mark 14.10). We cannot miss the phrase “one of the twelve.” While Judas acted alone, his act of betrayal was representative of the collective failure of the disciples. And his decision made Jesus’ death inevitable.
This story brings us face to face with the death of Jesus, and demands we make a choice. Will we join him in sacrifice or pursue our own program? And how we answer that question begins with where we are and what we have. If we think we have to wait until we have something costly to make a big sacrifice, we are wrong. Because how we handle what we have right here, right now is how we will handle everything we will one day possess. The invitation implicit in the death of Jesus is to imitate him in his life and in his death.
So how about it? We have a choice to make, and we don’t have a choice about making a choice. As we approach the Friday on which Jesus was executed will we be those who fail to see what his death means? Or will we be like the woman who gave everything and in doing so, found life?
TUESDAY: IDOLS AND TAXES
Suggested Reading: Exodus 20.1-6; Matthew 22.15-22
I don’t know anyone who likes taxes, and this is nothing new. In Jesus’ day taxes were not popular, and in the political climate of his day they were an incredibly divisive topic between two groups ... try to imagine what that would be like.
This division over paying taxes was not just a small disagreement. In the past it was the cause of uprisings, bloody riots and rebellion. Any question having to do with taxes would garner attention, and how one answered would immediately put you on one side of the argument or the other. Knowing this, those who wished Jesus dead sent two groups to him to ask about paying taxes to Caesar. But not just any groups. They sent Pharisees and Herodians; two sides who vehemently disagreed about taxation. In their minds, no matter how Jesus answered he would side with one group or the other.
The Pharisees believed paying anything to Caesar was wrong. If Jesus sided with them the Herodians, who believed one should pay tax to Caesar, could accuse Jesus of sedition. But if Jesus said one should pay taxes, then the Pharisees could accuse him of siding with Rome. Jesus would then lose credibility among his people. Jesus was about to be placed in a very precarious position with this question.
This two-sided group came to Jesus and asked, “Is it right to pay the imperial tax to Caesar or not?” (Matthew 22.17). It’s a simple yes or no question. But this is one thing I love about Jesus. He always sees the question behind the question and always responds to that second question; not the one people expect.
In fact, Jesus was asked well over 150 questions throughout the 4 Gospels, and he rarely answered any of them directly. For those of us who prefer clarity – Jesus would drive us nuts. Don’t get me wrong, he answered questions but not the way we might want. He told stories, he asked more questions and quoted verses. But there are only a handful of times he answered directly.
On this occasion Jesus asked a question in response. He asked if they had a denarius (a Roman coin), which they did. The coin they furnished bore the image of Caesar, and at that time it would have been the image of Tiberius. Around the edges of the coin were the words, “Son of god.” Many saw these coins as idols and images of god, and refused to carry them at all.
This is what makes Jesus’ question so damning when he asked, “Whose image is this? And whose inscription?” (Matthew 22.20). It was obvious it was Caesar’s image and inscription. But that’s not what he was getting at. He was pointing out the obvious – they were in possession of an idol that pointed to another god - an idol that bore his image and his likeness.
Images in the Roman world were everything. The Empire used images to depict the glory of Rome, and the world was saturated with these images. They worked to capture the minds and hearts of the people. Their message was clear: Rome was the glory of the earth, and Caesar, son of god, is the king over all the earth.
When Jesus pointed out the image and inscription of Caesar it was not a casual observation. He made a statement about who and what they supported. They were caught having to admit it was Caesars image and inscription. Then Jesus said to them, “Give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s” (Mathew 22.21). In other words, “If it has Caesar’s image on it, give it to him. As for whatever has God’s image on it, give that to Him.”
Of course, there is only one thing that bears the image of the divine: you and me and every person who has ever lived. Jesus’ statement is a call to give back to God what was his in the first place.
The message is simple: God’s desire is for us to see who we are as bearers of the divine image, and live in light of that identity. An identity that speaks to the glory of being human. An identity that points to the tremendous significance every single person bears. An identity that teaches us about the massive weight of our souls.
This is something Empires cannot and will not lend to anyone. Empires, both then and now, demand we pledge total and complete allegiance to them. Empires demand we give all to them, and are interested in returning very little.
This story is ultimately a question about where we find our identity. Because wherever it is that we look for identity is the very place we will give our allegiance. And don’t forget, allegiance by it’s very nature is exclusive.
So while Jesus did not seem interested in either / or thinking when it came to questions; he often seemed comfortable with it when it came to his Kingdom versus the Empires of this world. And this is one question we cannot afford to ignore.
MONDAY: JESUS, THE TEMPLE AND GUERILLA THEATER
Suggested Reading: Isaiah 56.1-8; Jeremiah 7.1-11; Mark 11.12-20
Jesus often practiced performance art, or, as Ched Myers calls it “political street theater.” We may not be familiar with performance art – also called “Guerilla Theater.” It was something the prophets frequently employed as a way of stirring the imagination and helping people see things differently. Amos Wilder suggests Christianity itself is a kind of Guerilla Theater.
He writes, “Early Christianity was more like Guerilla Theater than social revolution … What no over force could do, it did by spiritual subversion at the level of social imagination,” (Amos Wilder, Theopoetic, p 28). Rather than say everything, Jesus knew he could act out things that would speak far louder than words, and stir hearts and minds in ways nothing else could. He did this by practicing the art of street theater.
We need to keep this top of mind as we consider Monday of Holy Week.
After Jesus went to Jerusalem on Sunday (read about that here), he left and spent the night in a small town named Bethany. The following morning he and his disciples made their way back to Jerusalem. On his way he was hungry and saw “in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to find out if it had any fruit. When he reached it, he found nothing but leaves, because it was not the season for figs. Then he said to the tree, ‘May no one ever eat fruit from you again’” (Mark 11.13,14).
Of course, this whole thing is a bit odd, but just wait because it gets weirder.
Then Jesus and his disciples went on to Jerusalem and walked into the Temple. It was then Jesus drove out those who were buying and selling, flipping over tables and preventing people from carrying merchandise through the temple. He then said, “Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations’? But you have made it ‘a den of robbers.’” (Mark 11.17). Then, just like that, Jesus left Jerusalem and went back to Bethany. The following morning the disciples were astonished, because the fig tree Jesus cursed had withered to its roots.
Certainly, this is a bizarre story. So let’s take it apart piece by piece and then try and put it back together.
First, the fig tree. Why did Jesus expect fruit when it was not the season for figs? Figs typically ripen in June, and this would have been far too early. However, there is one detail about this tree: it was “in leaf.” Which means the fig tree would have kept its leaves through the winter, and trees that keep their leaves often keep their fruit. When Jesus saw this tree in the distance it made sense he thought it would have fruit.
But that’s not all. This is after all, Guerrilla Theater.
When Jesus went into the Temple he would have been one of thousands gathered in the massive area of the Temple Mount (an area of roughly 35 acres). Many who were there would have traveled a long way, and it was common for them to purchase animals in the Temple are for sacrifice. This was the buying and selling that was going on that Jesus disrupted. It’s easy to think Jesus caused a massive scene that threatened to shut down the temple, but this was not the case.
By not allowing people who had travelled a long way to buy animals for sacrifices and kicking over the tables of money changers and quoting the prophets his message was clear: this thing is not working the way it was supposed to. This was an act of political street theater. And why would he do such a thing? Because many who were in places of power and influence in the Temple turned the Temple into a center of corruption and power instead of a center of sacrificial worship. This is what angered Jesus – not the buying of animals.
He was heartbroken at those who used the guise of religion to create in-groups and out-groups, at those who used their position to gain wealth while making others poor in the process. His act in the Temple was his way of showing the evil of corruption and judging it.
Which brings us back to the fig tree.
Remember, the story about the fig tree begins with Jesus cursing it, then Jesus goes to the Temple and then the story about the fig tree finishes with it being withered. It’s Mark’s way of getting us to see that both stories are connected. Just as Jesus went looking for fruit on the fig tree, which looked good at a distance, so it was with the Temple.
It was to be a house of prayer for all the nations – a place that bore the fruit of God’s work in the world. But just as the fig tree had not fruit, neither did the corrupt Temple leadership. This is what Jesus communicated; this is what he acted out.
Which leads us to a question for us here and now: Do we only look good from a distance? What would we find upon closer inspection? Let’s not forget the Church is the only group of people who exists for the benefit of its non-members. If they came looking what would they find?
SUNDAY: THE (NOT SO) TRIUMPHAL ENTRY
Over the next week I will write a brief blog each day to reflect on Holy Week up to Easter Sunday. Why am I doing this? To give you a way to spend time reflecting each day on the days leading up to the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus. Each blog will have suggested reading and then a brief thought for the day. May you find this as one small way to center your heart and mind as we walk together toward the resurrection.
Suggested Reading: Zechariah 9:9-13; John 12:12-19
We call today Palm Sunday. It is the day when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey as people followed him shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David!” Many refer Jesus’ entrance as “The Triumphal Entry.” However, for those surrounding Jesus it was anything but triumphal. In fact, it was a letdown.
Which naturally raises the question, “Why were the people let down?”
To answer that question we need to rewind the clock a bit to a time when Jerusalem was conquered by a king named Antiochus Epiphanes of the Seleucid Empire. After he sacked Jerusalem he went into the Temple, set up an idol of the god Apollo and, in worship to him, sacrificed a pig on the altar.
Antiochus then went on to set up temples for the worship of other gods in the land of Israel, and, to ensure the people of Israel worshipped his gods, he outlawed any and all forms of Jewish worship. To enforce these new laws he sent his military throughout Judea to make the people participate in ritual worship to his gods.
This all went well until one of Antiochus’ generals, named Apelles, went to the town of Modin. It was there he met a man named Mattathias who refused to participate in any rituals or perform any sacrifices. When one of Mattathias’ own people agreed to perform the sacrifice, Mattathias killed him and then turned the sword on Apelles and his men.
Mattathias and many who lived in Modin fled into the desert, and a war broke out. Mattathias’ son Judas fought against Antiochus and his army, made his way to Jerusalem, won the city back and restored the temple. The fighting to liberate the land continued for some time. Then 20 years later Simon, a brother to Judas, finally liberated the people of Israel and destroyed all forms of pagan worship.
And what do you do when you are finally victorious in battle? You celebrate.
History records the celebration saying, “… the Jews entered Jerusalem with praise and palm branches, and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs, because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel” (1 Maccabees 13.51).
Now that we’ve rewound the clock a bit, let’s fast forward back to Jesus and his entrance into Jerusalem. The people of Israel were once again oppressed by a military super power - no longer Antiochus, but Caesar. Not the Seleucid Empire, but the Roman Empire.
The people longed for deliverance; they were desperate to be liberated once again. And then Jesus arrived on the scene. He and his disciples marched toward Jerusalem, and the people ”took palm branches and went out to meet him …” (John 12.13). And what was on their mind? A desire to see the enemy crushed and removed from Israel.
Amidst the cheers, the palm branches, the shouts, the arguments and the nerves of those anticipating war at any moment … Jesus wept for the city and for those walking beside him. No one could have ever guessed what would transpire that week. Jesus would not go down as a war hero. He would be remembered as a lamb that was led to the slaughter. The people who cheered him on that day would be left to wonder if Jesus really won anything. They expected Jesus to respond the way kings have always responded - with war and violence. He surprised everyone then, and he still surprises us today.
We must never forget the way of Jesus is not the way of the Empires – not then, not now. I suspect that just as people in Jerusalem on that day experienced a letdown we would too. My suspicion is that we would have been there waving the Palm Branches with everyone else with a lust for blood on our minds.
I say that, because in so many ways we still do this today. How often do we hold onto bitterness, anger and unforgiveness? How often do we wish ill on those who have wounded us or intend to do us harm? How often do we identify an enemy and wish the powers that be in our world would crush them and remove them?
For all those feelings we possess and struggle to let go of, may we simply remember this: Jesus wept for those who wished him ill. He wept because he wanted their best. He wept because he came to give them life and they wanted nothing to do with it. May this story be, for us, both a comfort and a challenge as we encounter the heart of Jesus, and may, like him, we weep for world.