Today we begin our walk with Jesus into Jerusalem, as we prepare to experience the high drama of his last days on earth. It begins with this procession of the palms, as we join the crowds to cheer on Jesus on as the long-awaited Messiah, the anointed one. It ends with on Easter. And between these two high celebrations is the stark reality of Good Friday. Holy Week is an enactment of the full spectrum of life as we ourselves know it: the agony and the ecstasy, the highs and the lows, the crushing blows that life can deliver and the grace that can envelope these blows, the chaos within the order of our lives, and the order within the apparent chaos. All of this is played out in the concentrated drama that is the last week of Jesus’ life.

 

I am struck, as I read through this story once again, by the equanimity of Jesus. Look at the drama surrounding this last week of Jesus’ life – the crowds that cheer him on as he enters Jerusalem will soon turn on him, calling for his crucifixion only days later; two of his most loyal friends, one of them his appointed successor, will betray him; in a rare display of anger he will overturn the tables of money-changers in the Temple; the courts of the Sanhedrin and the high priest of the Jews will secretly collaborate with the Roman authorities to have him sentenced to death; he will end up hanging from a cross between two common criminals.  And yet, even as these storm clouds gather he is portrayed as the eye of the storm – calm and centered. In fact, in the two readings for this morning he comes across as somewhat of a detail man – carefully, in the words of E.B. White, “plotting the resurrection”.

 

For example, in the midst of all the hubbub, he makes careful arrangements for his entry into Jerusalem. “Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you and immediately you will find a donkey tied; untie it and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord has need of them’” (Matthew 21:1-2). Plans have been made ahead of time, passwords established, alliances forged. If you sense a subversive plot unfolding, your intuition is likely correct.

 

Jesus comes, not as merely another pilgrim for the feast of Passover, but to make a statement. Passover was the annual feast that celebrated the Hebrews daring escape from Egypt. It was a moment in their history when the most powerful Kingdom in the world, Egypt, was revealed to be little more than a paragraph in a larger story of a divine intention for freedom from oppression. Nobody, including the current oppressors of the day – the Roman Empire – would have missed the statement Jesus was making by entering Jerusalem on a donkey. According to ancient prophecy, the King of the Jews would make a triumphant entry through the eastern gates – the gate of righteousness – riding on the foal of a donkey:

 

“Behold, your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey. He will cut off the chariot of Ephraim and the war horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off; and he shall command peace to the nations…” (Zechariah 9:9-10)

 

The peace that this king would bring would not be through domination of others, but strictly through love. When the Romans and the religious leaders got word that a Nazarene was approaching from the east, on a donkey, with the crowds shouting “Hosanna, blessed in the one who comes in the name of God”, they would have gone on red alert. This is the “turmoil” that the whole city was said to have entered into upon witnessing this prophetic act of Jesus (Matthew 21:10). The whole city may have been in turmoil, but not the one riding the donkey. Being a detail man he would have anticipated this unrest.

 

Over the next few days, Jesus would follow up his prophetic entry with the next part of his plan. He would spend them teaching on the steps of the Temple – teaching about the ways of peace: not Pax Romana, the peace of Rome that could only be won through military victory, but the peace of God, that can only be won through justice born of humility and compassion.

 

Jesus did not want to die. What sane person would exchange the gift of life for an excruciating death by torture? But with his prophetic entry into Jerusalem and his subversive teaching over the next few days, and his symbolic action of overturning the tables in the temple, he knew that this would be a possible outcome. So, being the detail man that he appears to have been, the next stage of his plan occurs – arrangements for the Passover meal. As many of you know, the Passover feast is scripted, a sacred liturgy. Every kind of food and drink involved with the meal is associated with the story of the “Great Escape” from Egypt, the liberation from the oppressors. It is a celebration confirming that, despite appearances to the contrary, history is unfolding according to God’s non-coercive intentions – moving in the direction of justice, peace, and love, or in the Greek philosophical tradition, in the direction of increased expressions of goodness, beauty, and truth.

 

Jesus is the consummate good host: attention to every detail has been carried out. This was the largest festival of the year, attracting Jews from all over the Diaspora. Rooms to eat this Passover Feast in and cooks to prepare it would need to be booked months in advance for those who were visitors, like Jesus. It’s true that the menu would have been fixed – the Passover Feast. But he would add a bold and transformative new dimension to this meal, a dimension that would change the world forever. He would identify with the bread and the wine:

 

“This is my body…this is my blood…which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (26:27-28).

 

By this gesture, he was taking responsibility for being an occasion of a new Passover himself: God was working through him, just like God worked through Moses, to set the people free. The means of liberation would be the spiritual technology of forgiveness. Whereas Moses challenged the Pharaoh to let his people go, Jesus added a new dimension, challenging his followers to be active agents of their own liberation by letting of whatever was keeping them from a life of love and compassion. It could be guilt or shame, a wrong that you have committed or one that has been committed against us personally, a loved one, or a nation. To eat this bread and drink this cup is to participate directly in the liberating power of God through forgiveness… to become ourselves agents of liberation from all that would keep others and us from claiming our full freedom to love, to live justly and for justice, and to be peacemakers.

 

Jesus takes care of the details so that we can get on with being the presence of Christ in the world. As we enter Holy Week, there is a sense in which we can rest in the assurance of Jesus’ skills as the gracious cosmic host. While our lives may feel like they are spinning out of control, we don’t need to sweat the small stuff. There is in Christ, and in the center of our very being, a loving power organizing all the details, bringing order out of chaos, life out of death, and moving this whole universe in the direction of an ever-deepening integrity. Yes, we will be betrayed as Christ was betrayed. Yes, others will plot our demise and oppose our best intentions. And we will be crucified with Christ. But our calling is to go with Christ to the cross, to entrust that the details have been taken care of, and that in some mysterious way that transcends our capacity to understand, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. This confidence is part of what it means to be in Christ. It’s part of what it means to share in this holy meal as we enter into the terror and tumult, and the tragedy and triumph of Holy Week.

           

It’s love that came to town 2000 years ago on Palm Sunday. It’s love that will be crucified – over and over again. And love will rise again on Easter. Because it’s all happening in the Spirit. Spirit can be ignored, it can be jeered, it can be tortured and put on a cross. But no grave can hold it and no evil can conquer it. The arrangements have been made. The invitations have all been sent, and you are on the guest list. Love awaits our RSVP.  A simple, heartfelt “yes” will assure your seat at the upper room.

 

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