Who is This?

March 16, 2008
Mathew 21:1-11, Matthew 27:11-54
Sermon by Carrie Eikler
Lent 6 – Palm Sunday

Today marks the beginning of Holy Week. As we relive this week so critical in our story, I think we could safely say that this week is a time of crisis. If ever there were a need for some serious emotional attention, perhaps some quality communal pastoral care, this would definitely be it. An emotional and spiritual roller coaster. Agony and ecstasy, humility and exuberance, commitment and betrayal, life and death: the reality of our whole lives packed into one week. Luckily, and I don’t say this glibly, but luckily we Brethren have the rooting practice of Love Feast to bring us to some centered-ness in the midst of what, if we take seriously, can be a pretty chaotic week.

But the week begins with this event, what we often call “the triumphant entry.” Author Ched Meyers speculates that it was less likely such a triumphal entry, as it was a sort of street theater. One thing many of us don’t know about this procession, myself included until just recently, was that it wasn’t the only procession going on at the time. There was another parade of sorts, one led by Pontius Pilate, the man who would later help seal Jesus’ fate for crucifixion. On the other side of Jerusalem enters Pilate’s parade, a massive display of military power, whose presence was intended to keep the peace in Jerusalem during the upcoming Passover.

In stark contrast to the military power and intimidation of the Roman procession, Jesus led a political protest march characterized by folks shouting "Hosanna." These two processions stand in stark contrast to one another: Pilate with his legions of troops, riding on the war horses, displaying their capacity of force; Jesus riding on his donkey with his multitudes waving palm branches, signaling a great king coming in peace. Biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan refers to these as something of dueling parades, and “even if you love parades” he says, “you have to choose which one to join.”

So people have come to the Jesus parade, And it’s electric! It’s crazy! Palm branches are waving like huge Styrofoam fingers at a hockey game, (tada dada dada) “Hosanna!!” and the crowd goes wild! And that’s it. What’s not to love about a story like this? It appears to be a clear acknowledgement of this uniqueness of this man, this prophetic equestrian. But if we listen beyond the rustle of branches and the shouts of hosanna, the story goes on. Along side the exclamations of joy and excitement, an equally revealing word is spoken and rather than proclaiming, we hear a quiet inquiry… “Who is this?”

Now, this is where I can see each one us, perhaps more clearly than anywhere else in the events of the Holy Week: in the crowds, asking the monumental question of faith: Who is this?

Who is this? It is not a simple question. We wrestle with it. We run away from it. Or, maybe you’re the kind who charges head on into it. And perhaps more than any other week, this week of passion, is when we ask that question with renewed urgency, hoping to be lead into increased clarity, as the world looks to us-- to Christians-- and asks us the question: “Who is this?” Who is this that you say died and in three days lived and moved and breathed and loved again? To me, this is one of the most foundational questions of our Christian faith, but not one of the easiest.

Suzanne Gutherie puts this another way: “The incarnation and the resurrection require athletic leaps of faith. Christians don't just sit down and decide to believe in the mysteries she says. Yes, we find ourselves drawn to Jesus' teaching, ministry, death—and yes, to the resurrection and ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Something here seems deeply true in nonrational ways. But some of us need a great commitment of time and practice and learning before this consciousness becomes part of our inner landscape.” ("Ready or Not," Christian Century, March 08, 2005)

Most of us need the time and space to cultivate our inner landscape and really examine that question: “Who is this?” Perhaps this week, this time between a high-energy street theater with palm branches and the lily-laden joy of Easter…perhaps this is the most fertile time to begin really cultivating that question for our lives.

Because two thousand years later there are still the crowds asking this question. “Who is this?” and the answers today are “Jesus the messiah...the apocalyptic prophet...the cynic sage…the social activist… the personal friend…the chief executive officer of Christianity etc. etc.” The question is the same, yet the answers that we have, or I should say, the answers that we believe we can have about Jesus, have been irreversibly transformed since the first century.

One need only to walk around the classrooms of a church, or brows the aisle of a video store or bookstore to see the overwhelming diversity of Jesus images that are available to purchase, consume, or watch over and over. It has been over two thousands years since the birth of Jesus. Each age and culture has brought a new perspective to the portrait of this person. Doctrines that have shaped our theology, such as Jesus being part of a trinity, were not created until centuries after his death. Even the gospel writers had differing views of who Jesus was and we have plentiful biblical illusions that roll off our tongue: Jesus as the way, the bread of life, the shepherd, the vine, the door, rabbi, prophet, messiah. All very different images for one person.

In his book Jesus Through the Centuries, historian Jaroslav Pelikan critically examines art throughout the ages and specifically Jesus Christ as depicted in art to help us understand the temper and values of each age. Throughout time cultures adapted their understandings of the world into their vision of who Christ was. So, in the fourth century with the rise of the Christian empire, Christ was understood to be an emperor, far different than the humble man riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. In medieval Christian mysticism, many understood Christ to be a bridegroom, or a lover, of the soul. During the enlightenment Jesus was seen primarily as a teacher of common sense. Communities in the last two centuries who have endured oppression and violence, particularly Latin American communities, have unearthed the characteristic of Jesus Christ as a liberator, one who struggles for justice and confronts the powerful.

Take a moment and close your eyes. If you were to craft an image of who Jesus is to you, what might it look like? What has been a meaningful characteristic to you? Does he look different than common pictures you’ve seen? In a culture where long white robes aren’t the fashion trend, what might Jesus be wearing? Who might Jesus be speaking to? How might Jesus be spending his time?

Images help shape our understanding of who Jesus is to us, how his life is relevant to our lives. Images are ways we grapple with the question of Jesus. They are helpful tools and allow us to somehow touch the divine in ways we can’t do on our own. And I’m reminded of the ways that portrayal of images stir up the best, and the worst in ourselves. We were in seminary when Mel Gibson’s movie “The Passion of the Christ” came to theaters. Do you remember the frenzy that this movie stirred up? Many came out of theaters saying they felt closer to understanding the meaning of Christ in their lives, the suffering, the love. Many came out saying it was an inaccurate portrayal of the fullness of who Christ really is, that it isn’t only in his death but also in his life and resurrection that calls us to faith.

It probably was the Jesus film for this generation, as much as the Martin Scorsese film “Last Temptation of Christ” was for a previous generation. “The Last Temptation” talked as much about the broken humanity of Jesus as “The Passion” focused on his inherent divinity: in this movie Jesus was flesh and bone, not only in his death, but also emotionally and sexually. You can imagine, if you don’t remember, the controversy that stirred up. It is almost as if Martin Scorsese and Mel Gibson were in the turmoil in the crowd asking the question “Who is this?” each trying to present an answer of what makes sense. And we remember that while images help us grapple with the question, the answer lies far beyond any one response we might give.

This is a passion filled week for Christians. Often we move from the jubilance of Palm Sunday to the ecstasy of Easter, but there is much time in between to give us clues to the question of who this Jesus is. This man reclaimed the temple as a place of worship rather than an economic entity…this man took time for people who were outcasts, he showed compassion to those others would be too busy for…this man happily engaged in serious dialogue about God, about morality, about scripture, about faith…this man, with his own death approaching, said that what is done to the weak and the marginalized, to those who we may think deserve their fate, all of those things are done to him…this man, sat at a meal with his friends, friends who rarely understood him or even believed him, bent down, and washed their feet. And while the external events of the week rage on in all its emotional turmoil, we stop and listen to the muttering voices that call us deeper into the internal landscape. Who is This? It’s not a question of doubt, as some might think. In fact, I think it one of the most critical questions “the faithful” should be asking.

The week begins with this question, and remains important throughout the week. Listen now at the many questions, answers, and expressions that are given in the last hours of Jesus’ life:
Matthew 27:11-54