4/5/20 “Palms to Passion” by Nancy E. Petty

“Palms to Passion”
Scripture: Matthew 21:1-11; 26:14-27

We are living in days when everything seems heightened. Our thoughts take us to places that we normally wouldn’t go. Is that unfamiliar back pain normal or is it a symptom of COVID-19? Our eyes see things that we, in our normal daily rush, miss noticing because we are late yet again for work or school or that next appointment. Smells are more intense unless all of the sudden you can’t smell what others are smelling. And then the worry sets in. Do I have the virus? Our sense of touch is heightened because we are aware that we are receiving less human contact than we are accustomed to or desire. Maybe our sense of taste is different, too, because we have slowed down enough to actually taste what we are eating. Emotions are heightened—frustration, fear, anxiety, patience are razor thin. And it’s true, too, that our heart responses are heightened. We are feeling more compassion for our healthcare, sanitation, grocery store, food-service workers, and teachers. People we often take for granted because we live in systems that don’t value the hard labor of these professions. We are becoming more aware of how these are the laborers who keep our nation and world functioning day in and day out. The intensity and heightened awareness of the seriousness of this moment in our lives and world causes us to see, hear, taste, touch, smell, feel and think things that we might not normally notice.

Palm Sunday is one of those Sundays that is so familiar to us that many of us could tell the story without even opening our bibles. Jesus enters Jerusalem, the holy city, riding a donkey that was mysteriously waiting for the disciples to find at the first village they came to before entering the city gates. As Jesus rides the humble donkey into Jerusalem, his disciples are leading the procession with chants of “Hosanna! Blessed in the One who comes in the name of the Lord.” The people line the streets waving palm branches and spreading their coats and wraps on the ground to make a path. I have read this story no telling how many times in my life. I have preached on it at least 15 times: one time from the perspective of the crowd; another time from the position of the disciples; several times from the perspective of those waving the palms and spreading their cloaks; too many times from the standpoint of the donkey. Next year, I think I will preach this text from the place of an observer. Or maybe even the one riding the donkey. But this year, with my heightened senses focused on the context in which we are living in, that of a pandemic, I noticed a phrase in the text that I had overlooked all these years (because I was so focused on that darn donkey). Matthew 21:10 reads: “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’”

To fully understand this phrase, “the whole city was in turmoil,” in the context of that first Palm Sunday, it is helpful to know the backstory. Prior to his entry into Jerusalem, Jesus and his disciples had been traveling the region teaching of a different kind of kingdom. He taught of a kingdom that included everyone. He spoke of things like forgiveness and called the poor blessed. He ate with sinners and anointed women as his disciples with his most trusted disciple being Mary Magdalene. He challenged his followers to resist the powers and principalities of systems of domination. These teachings resonated with some of the people, especially the oppressed and the marginalized. And as word began to spread of his revolutionary message, his followers grew. But it was his healing miracles that heightened the awareness of his presence with the authorities. They had paid scant attention to him, casting him off as little more than a troublemaker until when he was nearing Jerusalem he brought Lazarus back from the dead.

That was the tipping point—the event, the moment—that put the whole city in turmoil. As he rode into the holy city word had already reached the temple authorities that this man could bring the dead back to life. People were asking, “Who is this?” Who is this man who can bring the dead back to life? You can bet that from the moment he entered the temple square, the eyes of the power structure were on him. And he knew this. This was his moment—his defining moment to bring his message, his mission to those at the center of the power structure. It was a moment of intense confrontation. And it all takes place in the temple.

The temple was the center of the domination system, legitimized by theology. This temple theology saw the temple as the dwelling place of God, the mediation place of forgiveness through sacrifice, the center of devotion, and the destination of pilgrimage. The wealthy and powerful justified their position by saying, “This is the way it is.” Here and only here in the temple do you have access to God. Whether done by religious or nonreligious authorities, the effect was the same. God—or the way things work—has set it up this way. And it wasn’t just the political leaders who propagated this theology; it was also the religious leaders.

This is the Jerusalem that Jesus entered on Palm Sunday. And his message was deeply critical of this temple theology and its role in the domination system. Let me say that clearly. The temple, the church was the primary collaborator with the domination system—the system that oppressed and marginalized the poor and the outcasts. Don’t miss the point here. Palm Sunday was about calling out temple/church theology as the main collaborator with the systems of dominance that oppressed and marginalized the poor.

I wonder if, unintentionally, we have made Palm Sunday more like a fun parade where we wave our branches and spread our cloaks with the mindset of a Christmas or 4th of July parade. It’s impossible to know what the disciples were thinking as they shouted Hosanna! entering the city that day. Did they know what was about to happen? Surely they could feel the intensity of the moment. Did they know Jesus’ plan to confront the temple leaders: to turn over those tables and destroy the sacrificial altars? It’s hard to know, but there is no question that Jesus knew the consequences of his intentions as he rode into Jerusalem on that most humble of all animals.

We are a city, a nation, a world in turmoil right now. A virus that physically knows no boundaries has disrupted our domination system. Metaphorically, the tables have been overturned and the altars of prosperity have been dismantled. We all feel it—the turmoil, the disorientation, the fear, the shifting of the way things have been set up, the way things were. And so I am wondering today, what wisdom might we learn if we try to encounter this Palm Sunday 2020 as it would have felt on the original Palm Sunday, like an intense disruption, every turn of which was unprecedented and unpredictable. 

An intense disruption, every turn of which is unprecedented and unpredictable – is there a better description of 2020 to date? Maybe this novel virus has provided us with eyes to see and ears to hear. Maybe it is riding into town on a humble host, bringing news of a different kind of kingdom. I know this sounds like sacrilege, but you have to wonder. Don’t hear me wrong here. I am not saying that God caused this virus or sent it to us to teach us a lesson. That’s an old theology that I long ago said goodbye to. However, I am evoking, as Walter Brueggermann has suggested, “It is possible to trust that the God of the Gospel is in, with, and under the crisis of the virus without imagining that God is the cause of it.” God is not the cause of COVID-19. And yet, the question remains, “What can we learn from it about kingdom living?”

I don’t think you will be surprised to hear me say that we find ourselves again, in this time and in this place, with the place of God, the church, as the center of the domination system. The White European West has colonized the planet, and despite a pretense of separation of church and state, the Christian Church has been utterly enmeshed with the Capitalism of her host nations, collaborator and beneficiary of geographic, racial and gender inequities, most notably the United Kingdom and the United States. 

There have been a number of variations of the phrase, “this virus is the great equalizer,” in the past months, and each time I hear or read it I am annoyed. The virus itself may be class and race neutral, but the conditions in which people encounter the virus are anything but. We know from tracking data that only people of some privilege have had the luxury of social distancing – the rest of the regular people still have to go be a clerk at the grocery store, or drive the bus, or pick up trash, or clean the buildings, or every other job that we already disrespect by paying less than a real living wage. NYC is reporting that the poorer the neighborhood, the harder hit by COVID-19, the fewer the hospital beds, and the higher the rate of underlying conditions. Coronavirus may be coming for all of us, but some of us have relative safety from standing on the backs of a lot of bodies, many of them black and brown.

And then there is Mother Earth. She is not only not suffering, she seems to be rejoicing, awash in clean air unsoiled by our normal super important super urgent super extractive everyday life! What is the wisdom in seeing just how quickly we might reverse the calamities of climate control if only we made different choices every day? 

So what are to we to do with the suffering not only of COVID-19, but the suffering that we ourselves have caused and participated in as the high water mark of consumption of our species? What wisdom do we take from the life of Jesus as we enter this Holy Week?

I encourage us all to claim the sorrow of our role in damaging the planet, in dominating others, in disrespecting that which does not fit our societal norms of prosperity and homogeny. And with that sorrow, I challenge us to take the palms and turn them into our passions. By passion, I don’t mean the everyday use of the word – desires, intense interests, compulsions. No, by passion I mean the passion of Christ – the choice to take responsibility for the whole and to sacrifice on behalf of the other. 

For example, the palm of plastic bags. Yes, it seems insignificant, but can I be honest and accept that every single time I use a single-use plastic grocery bag I contribute to the destruction of the planet? Can I turn that palm into passion and commit to always using something else – to bringing my own reusable bag that Serena and Ted Buckner gave me for Christmas, even if I have to go back to the car to get it? 

What about the palm of income inequality? According to a report from the Economic Policy Institute, the average CEO salary is 271 times the nearly $58,000 annual average pay of the typical American worker. When we make purchases from a big box company we are participating in this ever-widening gap. Are we willing to give up the convenience of the Amazon box landing on our front porch to close this gap? Are we willing to be conscious enough to make day-to-day decisions about where to shop to get the things we think we can do without to lessen this gap? This palm branch is asking us: Are we truly living our values?

The list goes on. Every choice we make, every routine, every habit, every indulgence, every assumption, every privilege, every birthright, every celebration. And it isn’t about loss! It isn’t about taking away all our toys and our guilty pleasures. It is about accepting responsibility for the kingdom now! Ta Nehisi Coates wrote that for people of privilege, equity feels like oppression. I am afraid that is the message of Palm Sunday for 2020. And if we want to follow Jesus, we have to be willing to turn some palms into passions in the days, months and years to come.