With nationalism, xenophobia and racism on the rise in our world, some political gatherings become violent. It’s not hard to bring that lens to the Palm Sunday story. Certainly there are multitudes on display: As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”
We soon see how quickly the multitudes praising God and lauding Jesus as “the king who comes in the name of the Lord” morph into mobs braying for blood. As is true today, there was likely some manipulation on the part of leaders in fomenting that transition, an appeal to fear and inciting to anger. We also have in the mix unrealistic expectation and disappointment, and those are incendiary ingredients.
Why does this crowd of disciples praise God? Because of the deeds of power they have seen in Jesus. He wielded spiritual power that had immediate effect in the temporal realm – palsied limbs visibly restored to strength, leprous skin made clear, water transformed into wine, notorious extortioners into models of generosity. The fact that this power resided in a man of such holiness, above reproach in every way, excited expectations that at last God had sent the King who would deliver the people. They refused to believe that his kingship was of a nature other than what they wanted.
So when Jesus is overcome by the authorities, handed over and mocked, spit upon, beaten, and raises not a finger to help himself… it’s not hard to see how such dashed hopes could curdle to venom, yielding to cries of “Crucify him.”
And how about us? We may not have joined in the bloodlust, but have we too experienced disappointment in our faith? Dashed expectations of what we thought God could or would do for us? Maybe we don’t get mad so much as withdraw, distance ourselves, afraid to trust in this One who is more powerful than any force in the universe – indeed, who made the universe – yet can’t seem to keep our loved ones from harm and our world from becoming a morass of unmitigated terror and pain.
How do we hold our hosannas in the face of failure and loss? By singing not to Jesus, but with him. By staying close to him, telling him when we’re mad or disappointed, by saying “I don’t understand. But I believe. Show me.” We don’t have to give way to rage. He didn’t.
And as we demonstrate his peace in the face of rage and outrage, we just might help to sow peace ourselves, to keep multitudes from becoming mobs, to transform mobs back into multitudes singing God's praises.
No comments:
Post a Comment