A Different Source of Power: A Sermon for the Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday

The Rev’d Richard Gillespie Proctor, OA

Christ the King Episcopal Church

Palm/Passion Sunday, Year A: 4/2/23

More than once since we have become parents, Emily has told me that one of my spiritual gifts is joy. I think perhaps a more accurate way to describe it is that I am better able to access my joy, particularly when I am with Julian and Madeleine. Being around them oftentimes makes me silly, playful, and just plain ridiculous.

That being said, I also carry quite a bit of sorrow in my heart. Most of the sorrow comes about when I read the news and am reminded of the seemingly endless violence that is prevalent in the world today. Whether it is on the international front or right here in our own back yard, violence still seems to dominate the headlines.

Just this past Monday, as I was arriving at a Trappist Monastery for a weeklong spiritual retreat, I heard the news of the school shooting at Covenant Presbyterian School in Nashville. One of the shooting victims was an acquaintance of one my fellow retreatants at the monastery. Later in the week, our school board at the Tree House met to discuss hiring an armed Resource Officer to serve at our day school. This is a sober reminder for us that the potential for violence can happen anywhere at any time…even in our little bubble here at the beach.

So, while part of me is full of joy, and has a lot to celebrate in this blessed life of mine, there is another part of me that is full of despair. And while having children has deepened my potential for joy, it has also deepened my potential for sorrow and fear, especially when I hear about school shootings. And until the day arrives that violence isn’t “just the way the world works,” this profound potential for despair will remain.

One thing that I am certain of is that the only way that I know to live in this sort of tension is to rely solely on my Christian faith. God’s grace, mercy, and love are truly what sustain me in times of grief, fear, or anger. Our scriptures and tradition give us a framework for making meaning out of our lives as we reside East of Eden and await Christ’s coming again.

One thing that we can certainly say after hearing our scripture lessons for today is that what I am struggling with is nothing new. Violence is as old as humankind – for the Bible tells us so. The gospel readings we have today address the issue of violence in a way that forces us to re-think how we might choose to deal with conflict.

When the bystanders waved their palm branches and laid their cloaks on the dusty road for Jesus as he was entering into Jerusalem, they shouted

"Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!

The Jewish people who were shouting this had had enough of being oppressed by their Roman occupiers. Caesar had had his way long enough. Caesar used military, political, and economic power to keep things orderly in the Roman Empire. As long as the Jews and other occupied people paid their taxes and remained obedient to the emperor, everything would be ok.

But the Jews were growing tired of paying their taxes to Caesar, and they were growing tired of being ruled by the pagans from afar. So, they began to hope and pray for deliverance. They began to hope and pray for a new King David to pick up his slingshot and slay the Goliath they knew as the Roman Empire.

So, when word got out that this Jesus of Nazareth was performing miracles, healing the sick, raising the dead, and announcing that the Kingdom of Heaven was near, they were sure that this was the moment that they had been praying for. Now was the time for a revolution, and Jesus was their leader. He was coming to Jerusalem not only to celebrate the Passover, but also to take Jerusalem back from the bad guys.

 So, imagine not just the letdown, but also the sheer horror when what started as Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem ended with Jesus hanging dead on the cross five days later. Power and might through violence once again got its way. Apparently, Jesus wasn’t the savior that they had hoped for.

Of course, we now have the hindsight to know that the story doesn’t end on the cross, but let’s not jump ahead to Easter just yet. Let’s live for a moment in this awful tension between what we think will solve our problems and what God believes to be true. Because if we’re honest with ourselves, we’re just like the Jews who were shouting “Hosanna” when Jesus came to town. The Jews believed that the only way to defeat Caesar was to beat him at his own game – to finally give the bully a dose of his own medicine and punch him right in the mouth, just like David did to Goliath.

If you think about it, it’s easy to read our own nation’s story through the lens of the David and Goliath narrative. We have read this story every Palm Sunday since the founding of this great nation of ours – this great nation that had had enough of paying taxes to the Caesar we knew as the King of England. Yet the ironic thing is that one attribute of oppressed people is oftentimes if they ever land in a position of power, they simply imitate the very people who oppressed them. In other words, they end up using the same means for wielding power that were used on them. This is what the Jews were hoping to do to the Romans. And is this not what we are doing today?

 After all, one look at the budget of the United States reveals that we as a nation have chosen the way of Caesar. We seek to assert control and we police the world through our superior military, economic, and political power. When dealing with outside threats at home or abroad, we have bought in to the myth that the only way to defeat the violent forces of the world is to be more violent than they are. Of course, we’re not the only guilty party on the global scene; we’re just the biggest and the most powerful.

So as Christians, what are we to make of the biblical witness of Jesus Christ, who subverted the “eye for an eye” means of achieving justice and peace? Jesus shows us a different way, but if you’re like I am, it’s a hard pill to swallow. Because if you’re like I am, you don’t feel safe unless you know that the good guys have more power and might than the bad guys. If you’re like I am, you can’t for the life of you figure out why Jesus would allow himself to be nailed to a cross and suffer the most horrific death imaginable rather than fight back, even though he had the power and might to do so.

And if you’re like I am, you struggle at times to feel joyful when it seems like violence is having its way in the world around us.

And, if you’re like I am, you’ve come to realize that there’s not a thing that you can do about it apart from the grace, mercy, love, and hope of the God we know in Jesus Christ. There is not a political party, military force, country, or leader on this planet who can save us from the real enemy, which is our own capitulation to the Power of Sin. This has been the human predicament since the beginning of time. Our lust for power got us in trouble in the Garden of Eden and it’s still got a hold of us today. And the only thing that can save us from the Power of Sin is not the power of this world, but the saving grace and Power of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

If you’re like I am, you find yourself asking, “What does this saving Power look like? And how can I get some of that?” The Apostle Paul gives us the sobering answer. I say sobering because the call for us to imitate Christ is none other than the call to dying to our old selves and rising anew in Christ Jesus. As Paul writes,

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death--
even death on a cross.”

This Lenten season more than ever, I have truly felt the pang of not only my own personal sinfulness, but the sinfulness of the society in which I participate. And because of this, when I arrive with you a week from today at the empty tomb, I imagine that the experience of true Power will overwhelm me more than it ever has before. This Power is none other than the power of resurrection, of Jesus Christ dying and rising again, defeating Sin, Evil, and Death not on their own terms, but on God’s terms. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” May the God of the cross and the God of the empty tomb bless us the faith and courage to humble ourselves…to empty ourselves…so that we may be filled with his Power rather than the Power of this world.