Marching Orders

Whenever I read any kind of history, but especially Biblical history, I often ask myself what it would have been like to live in those times, what it might have felt like to be there, done this, heard that. And you may have noticed that my sermons often come from that perspective: what was it like to have followed Jesus, to have heard Paul preach, to be threatened with stoning or worse. And sometimes I even go so far as to make up fictional conversations with the people who were there, to try to get closer to the reality.

But one thing I’ve never been able to do. I’ve never been able to try to imagine what Jesus must have felt like, what Jesus must have thought. I’ve never been able to bring myself to try to make up Jesus’ internal conversations. It seems not only disrespectful, but impossible. I can guess what I might have felt if I had been in Jesus’ position, but that’s different. As Isaiah said, God’s thoughts are higher than our thoughts - higher than my thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus’ coming into the city of Jerusalem, that Sunday before Passover. What a triumph. There he was, at the head of the most famous parade in history, hearing people shouting his name, waving palm branches and throwing their cloaks on the ground in front of him. How wonderful he must have felt, right?

If it had been us, wouldn’t we have felt pretty terrific? I mean, it’s only human to like being appreciated, isn’t it? After all, even though Jesus knew what was coming, surely this sweetened the pill just a little. Surely he could bank this moment, as a sort of cushion against what would happen at the end of the week.

But that’s not what Jesus was thinking. We know a little about what he thought, because Luke tells us. We heard it in this morning’s gospel reading. Jesus wept over the city, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But even now they are hidden from your eyes.” [Lk 19:41] This momentary triumph just brought his coming ordeal into sharper focus.

So why did he do it? Why did Jesus put himself through this charade? What was the point? Was it really necessary?

Lots of cultures around the world have myths or practices that are bizarre echoes of what Jesus did for us. Back before Homer wrote the Iliad the Greeks used to sacrifice their kings on a yearly basis. It was part of the deal: in return for a year of absolute power and luxury you went to your death to ensure the fertility of the soil and the safety of the people. As far as we can tell from the records they went willingly. The Aztecs had something similar, although their chosen sacrifice didn’t become a king. A favored youth would spend a year in utter luxury and public adulation. It was an honor, only the best were chosen, but at the end of the year all their finery would be stripped away and they’d ascend to the top of the pyramid to the waiting priests and be killed in front of the screaming crowd.

There are echoes there of what Jesus did, aren’t there, but it’s upside down, isn’t it. Instead of beginning at the bottom and being raised up in order to be a fitting sacrifice, Jesus started at the top, and came down, in order to be an effective sacrifice. That’s the message in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Jesus’ motivations were totally selfless. He didn’t have to be bribed with fame and fortune. On the contrary: he gave up fame and fortune to be our sacrifice. And this triumphal parade certainly wasn’t the big attraction.

Again, the gospels tell us, this time in Matthew’s account. Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem riding on a donkey in order to fulfill prophecy. The prophet Zechariah had said, four centuries before, that their king would enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey. This was a sort of acted parable. Jesus was making a public announcement of his identity as the Messiah, with full knowledge of what it would mean. It wasn’t just for the thrill.

So we know how Jesus felt that day, although his feelings were far from what ours probably would have been. And we know why Jesus did it, although it’s a stretch for us to understand.

But what we don’t know is, how could he do it.

And we need to know that, don’t we. We need to know how Jesus could do what he did, because we’re called to follow him. If we’re to take up our crosses and follow him, we need to know how he could do it because, somehow, we have to tap into the same power.