Sighs of a Prophet
March 16th, 2008
The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
Today is Palm Sunday – the day when Jesus of Nazareth is said to have entered Jerusalem to celebrate the Jewish Holy Day of Passover, and which marked the beginning of his last few days of life.
According to the Biblical story, the prophet and teacher was accompanied by his twelve disciples, and greeted by a throng of wildly enthusiastic followers. One of my fondest memories of the church of my childhood was of this day, when Mass would begin with a grand processional of the entire congregation, winding outside the Sanctuary and around the entire church, singing “All Glory, Laud and Honor, to thee redeemer King; from whom the lips of children, their sweet hosannas ring!” At some point in the service, we’d all be given little crosses made out of a palm branch leaf; I never could figure out how someone was able to twist and tie that leaf into a cross!
But according to A.N. Wilson, in his book Jesus: A Life, the procession ushering Jesus into Jerusalem may not have been quite so innocent, as apparently some of Jesus’ disciples were known zealots; and others – such as his eventual betrayer Judas Iscariot – were even “Sicarri” – violent radicals who were known for stabbing Roman citizens in crowds during festival times such as Passover. Today we might call them “terrorists.”
The Roman government may have been fearful of a planned rebellion, with the festivities of Passover as a perfect cover. The police were on high alert; if they’d had a color-coded system like ours, it would have been at red!
Did Jesus know about any rebellion? Was he part of it – perhaps even the leader? No one knows for sure, of course; certainly the teachings of Christianity don’t suggest that.
What the Biblical account does suggest, however, is that Jesus did know of his impending arrest and death, and carefully staged all the events leading up to it. All four of the Gospel stories tell of Jesus instructing his disciples where to find a donkey or colt for him to ride – even what to say to the owner of the animal so he’d be more inclined to give it to them.
Jesus had reserved a private room for their Seder, rather than participating with the people in the community Seder outside in the streets.
And then, according to the Gospel accounts, he rode “triumphantly” on a donkey or colt, into the city, with crowds surrounding him, waving palms and singing “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”
Of course, what Christian doctrine asserts is that Jesus did what was required of the Son of God, in preparation for his martyrdom on the cross to atone for our sins. But Wilson has another theory.
Wilson wonders if Jesus might have actually been provoking the Roman authorities by mimicking the famous Judas Maccabee, whose story of victory over the king of Syria was well-known – and is what we celebrate today during Chanukah. It is said that Maccabee entered Jerusalem to re-claim the destroyed Temple in the 2nd century B.C.E. “with praises and palm branches,… and hymns and songs.” This would explain the preparations and the high drama, as well as the use of palm branches, which held no other significance for Jews.
What happens after Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem differs depending on which stories we read. In the Gospels of Mark and of Matthew, we hear about Jesus going into the Temple, finding the money-changers, and in a fit of rage, throwing the money-changers out, shouting at them, “The Temple is to be a House of Prayer for all people; but you have turned it into a House of thieves!” I must admit that I’ve always liked this image of Jesus – so human with his anger, so vehemently for the people over the profiteers.
But I have also been deeply moved by another image of Jesus – that offered in the Gospel of Luke, who wrote: “As he drew near and came in sight of the city, he shed tears over it and said, ‘If you had only recognized on this day the way to peace! But in fact it is hidden from your eyes!’” And if Wilson’s theory is true – that Jesus was in fact aware and even supportive of an attempted civil uprising – it is as if he longed with all his being that such an uprising weren’t necessary. But he knew it was.
What was it that the Prophet saw that provoked his tears – that left him with such sorrow and hopelessness?
Perhaps the answer lies in what he saw as the center of power – the Temple of Herod, where the religious, political, social and economic powers all held forth. Built around the original Temple of Solomon, it had grandiose courts, with columns 40 feet high, and an outer perimeter which covered ¾ of a mile.
It overlooked a city filled with people, many of whom were extremely poor, and separated by their station in life, by gender, by sectarianism. Jesus longed to see unity and peace, and justice for all people.
Perhaps he wept because he saw a Judaism that was more concerned with rituals and laws than with following the admonitions of its prophets to care for the poor, the foreigner, the widow, and the oppressed.
Or perhaps, as Wilson also suggests, Jesus wept because he saw his own life as a failure, his ministry as unfulfilled. He accomplished nothing, really, that he’d set out to achieve. As he entered Jerusalem, did the people even hear his words of prophecy as they blindly sang “Hosanna?” Did they even care?
He ended life essentially alone – betrayed by one friend, abandoned by others, humiliated and left to die a horrible death.
Is it no wonder that he wept? Is it no wonder that more than words, deep sighs might have been heard from his throat as he entered the city?
What would Jesus think if he were among us today? What would be his reaction if he entered Jerusalem, or any other part of Israel or the Gaza Strip, and listened to the fear and anger, the arrogance and self-righteousness, expressed by Israelis and Palestinians alike? Surely he would sigh at the constant rhetoric of blame; surely he would weep at the deaths of innocents on both sides.
We would need to let him know that there are signs of hope; that there are people – Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims – who are reaching across the barriers of fear, and working together to create understanding and peace. They are not funded by powerful governments; they do not make the front page of newspapers. But they are there; they are persistent; and they offer us all hope.
What might be Jesus’ reaction in some other parts of the world – where torture and mass murders are still sanctioned, where children are recruited as soldiers, where poverty and disease claim lives before they have had a chance to really live, where souls are crushed beneath the oppression of tyrants?
We can imagine what he would do; he would weep, to see that the world has learned so little from his teachings, and from the teachings of the other great prophets who went before him and who came after.
And so we would need to show him some signs of hope – the peacemakers who risk their lives to try to forge agreements between warring factions; the common citizens in America and elsewhere, who give up the comforts of home to travel to distant lands and unfamiliar cultures, that they might bring medical care or education to those who have none; the people of faith who reach out to those trapped in situations beyond their control, and deliver the healing power of compassion.
We do not hear often of these people; they are rarely funded by powerful corporations or governments; but they have an idealism that will not be stifled, and a passion that cannot be ignored. And they bring us hope.
What would Jesus think of this war our own country has waged against Iraq, under questionable tactics and disingenuous premises? Would he not weep in outrage at the arrogance that we have shown? Would he not sigh in dismay at the passivity with which we and our leaders have allowed it to happen?
We would want to introduce him to the growing numbers of Americans who have spoken out against this war, and who are taking to the streets in larger and larger numbers as we approach the 5-year anniversary of its beginning – as they did in Los Angeles yesterday – to protest the deaths of almost 4,000 of our young soldiers, and many more thousands of innocent Iraqis.
We would want him to hear the testimonies of soldiers who are refusing to return to duty because they believe that our presence there is wrong. And we would want him to know of this small Unitarian Universalist congregation, tucked into the West San Fernando Valley, that has spoken with a united voice against the war, and which continues, month after month, to stand with other people of faith in public witness for peace.
None of these voices are funded by the forces of power. But they are unrelenting, and they give us hope.
And finally, what might Jesus think of the carelessness with which we have treated our earth for so many years, and the utter disregard shown by so many of those in power, who could effect policy changes that would turn back the destruction we’ve done to it? Would he not weep at the dying trees? Would we not hear him sighing for the slow but steady disappearance of important threads in the interdependent web?
But we could show him the new voices emerging from faith traditions heretofore silent, which are now calling their people to love our God-given planet, and care for it as they would their own child. We could show him how our children are learning about the preciousness of the earth – in ways we never did. And we could tell him about this faith of ours that has reminded all of us that we are a part of this great Interdependent Web, and must do whatever we can to keep it whole.
These voices for the planet do not have great funding or huge public forums. But they are full of faith and passion, and they give us hope.
And the truth is, that it is we who need the hope, not Jesus. It is we who risk becoming overwhelmed with despair and cynicism as we watch the events of the world unfold, and feel powerless to do anything to save it. But if we look at the life and teachings of that great prophet, we will see that he offered us hope even in the midst of despair. We will see that he never gave in to despair or cynicism, but continually put his faith into actions; and this kept him hopeful.
This coming week is the final week of Lent – six weeks that are the holiest in the Christian tradition. It is a sacred time that invites self-reflection, looking clearly and honestly at the areas of our greatest weaknesses and vulnerabilities, and exploring how we might move toward new life in us and in our world.
And it is this final week that is the holiest of all, as Christians are invited to walk alongside Jesus the great teacher, as he first despairs, then recommits himself to his dream of a new Jerusalem, a new kingdom of peace and compassion and wholeness.
No matter whether we are Christian, or Jew, or Muslim, or Unitarian Universalist – we, too, can walk that same path. We can recommit ourselves to our principles of human dignity, of compassion and justice, of peace, and of the unity of all Life. We can re-gather our courage and our strength, so that our vision of the Beloved Community for all beings will be made real. We may not see it in our lifetime, but we will catch glimpses of it, and they will sustain our hope.
As we enter this Holy Week, may we carry with us this prayer said on the first day of Lent: “Enlighten our minds, O God, by the brightness of your shining, so that we may be able to see what we should do, and have the strength to do it.”
Amen, and Blessed Be.
© 2010 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
