April 1, 2012 | 4:00 p.m. | Palm Sunday

A Week in Jerusalem

John W. Vest
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Mark 11:1–11

Like so many times when we read the Bible, if we don’t pay attention to the original context of a particular passage, we miss the point or—even worse—read it in a way that is quite different from how it was intended. In the case of Holy Week, it is critical to understand the political, social, and religious context of these remarkable final days of Jesus’ life. To ignore these facts results in a reading of Holy Week that is about abstract themes of suffering or theologically convoluted reflections on what cosmic purpose is accomplished by Jesus’ death. But to ground this story in the realities of first-century Jerusalem helps us appreciate the very real and relevant message of Jesus, a gospel that is as good and necessary today as it was nearly two thousand years ago.

First, we must never forget that all of this takes place under the oppressive reign of the Roman Empire. When Jesus enters Jerusalem for this turbulent week, the Jewish people have been controlled by Rome for almost one hundred years. For centuries before that, control of their nation had shifted between powers to their north and to their south. In fact, ever since the cataclysmic conquest of the Jews at the hands of Babylon six hundred years before, there had been precious few years of real independence. For centuries, the Jews were subjected people, and by the third and fourth decades of what we call the Common Era, many of them had grown tired of this status quo. They longed for an anointed king to rise up among them and reestablish the glory days of Israel’s distant past. They longed for Rome to be toppled. Some dreamed of God accomplishing this through an apocalyptic massacre. Others were more pragmatic, if no less idealistic, and plotted a revolution of the people.

Second, and for many Jews of Jesus’ day even more troubling, is the fact that the Jewish leaders of the time were deeply involved in the Roman oppression of their people. In particular, the high priesthood of the temple—once the most sacred institution in all of Israel—had been co-opted as agents of the Roman domination system. They collected the Roman taxes from their people while turning a blind eye to the injustices happening to them. They allowed the people to believe that as long as they followed the prescribed worship inside the temple, what happened outside the temple didn’t really matter. Given even a small share of power and security, the temple leadership was not at all interested in seeing the status quo change. They had a place in the empire and were not about to let anyone—or any revolution—disrupt the delicate balance they had achieved.

This is the context of Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem. This is the setting of the unfolding drama that would end in his death on a cross. This is the Jerusalem into which Jesus rode on the back of a donkey.

Sunday
We call it Palm Sunday. We heard the story just moments ago, how Jesus rode into Jerusalem as people spread out palms and said with joy, “Hosanna! Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

In the context of first-century Jerusalem, there is no way to hear this story without realizing that it is a bold mockery of the imperial power under which Jesus and his followers lived. Biblical scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan make this point by imagining two distinct processions that day (Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Final Days in Jerusalem). Jesus, riding on a donkey (or a colt as it says in Mark), leads a procession of peasants from the east, from the Mount of Olives. On the other side of town, coming from the west, the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, perhaps riding on a powerful steed, might have led a procession of imperial cavalry and soldiers. Pilate’s procession was a demonstration of the power of the Roman Empire. Jesus’ procession, by comparison, was like a two-pronged April fools’ joke—Jews looking for a military solution to their situation and Romans flexing their imperial muscles would both have considered Jesus a fool. But to Jesus, these forces of opposition to his vision were in fact the fools, and his bold act was nothing less than a reflection of the ultimate impotence of each.

Jesus, at least as he is portrayed in the Gospels, does not seem to be a person who flew by the seat of his pants, who made it up as he went along. He doesn’t seem to do things by accident or without a clear plan. His procession into Jerusalem on the Sunday before Passover, when the city would have been full of both Jewish pilgrims and Roman soldiers intent on keeping the peace, was done with precise calculation. Who knows how many people actually witnessed his march into the city? But everyone who heard about it would have known exactly what he meant by it: the powers that be—both Romans and Jews—were being called out. The kingdoms and powers of the world were being contrasted, for all to see, with his radical vision of God’s new kingdom.

Monday
The next day, Jesus made a public spectacle every bit as provocative as his Sunday procession. Having spent the night in Bethany . . .

They came into Jerusalem. After entering the temple, he threw out those who were selling and buying there. He pushed over the tables used for currency exchange and the chairs of those who sold doves. He didn’t allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He taught them, “Hasn’t it been written, My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations? But you’ve turned it into a hideout for crooks. The chief priests and legal experts heard this and tried to find a way to destroy him. They regarded him as dangerous because the whole crowd was enthralled at his teaching. When it was evening, Jesus and his disciples went outside the city. (Mark 11:15–19, Common English Bible)

If Sunday was primarily about mocking the power and confidence of the Roman Empire, Monday was about turning his attention to the leaders of the temple. Yet don’t be mistaken: Jesus wasn’t saying that Judaism or its religious structures were bad—after all, there was nothing wrong with what was happening in the temple. Without an understanding of the context, Christians often don’t realize that the currency exchange and dove sellers were completely legitimate and even necessary means of providing for pilgrims coming to the temple to worship. The currency exchange and people selling doves weren’t the problem, and neither was Judaism in general. Rather, like Hebrew prophets before him, he was making a clear indictment of the particular people running the show. He was calling them out for aiding the imperial oppression of the people. Like Hebrew prophets before him, he made it clear that even the most careful and precise worship of God is hypocrisy at best—and blasphemy at worst—when it is done by those who knowingly participate in the perversion of justice and righteousness.

Tuesday
If Jesus’ actions were meant to provoke a reaction, by Tuesday he had what he was looking for. Already we have seen that those in power were plotting to bring him down. Throughout the day on Tuesday they go on the offensive and Jesus openly engages the religious leaders he has indicted. They question his authority and try to trap him. But with masterful acumen and rhetorical skill, Jesus deflects every attempt to entrap him and usually manages to make those who oppose him look like fools in the process. Consider, for example, perhaps the most famous exchange of this day:

They sent some of the Pharisees and supporters of Herod to trap him in his words. They came to him and said, “Teacher, we know that you’re genuine and you don’t worry about what people think. You don’t show favoritism but teach God’s way as it really is. Does the Law allow people to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay taxes or not?”

Since Jesus recognized their deceit, he said to them, “Why are you testing me? Bring me a coin. Show it to me.” And they brought one. He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Jesus said to them, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” His reply left them overcome with wonder. (Mark 12:13–17, Common English Bible)

Again, Jesus contrasts the empire with God’s new kingdom. In Jesus’ vision, the two are mutually exclusive. One is beholden to the brute force, economic manipulation, and idolatrous theology of empire; the other is shaped by love for God and love for each other. The image of one is inscribed on the coins of the realm; the other is inscribed in Jesus’ own life and the way he encourages his disciples to follow.

And again, his provocative words and actions are not limited to the empire alone. He even goes so far as to imagine the destruction of the temple he has already indicted.

As Jesus left the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Teacher, look! What awesome stones and buildings!”

Jesus responded, “Do you see these enormous buildings? Not even one stone will be left upon another. All will be demolished.” (Mark 13:1–2, Common English Bible)

Wednesday

It was two days before Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and legal experts through cunning tricks were searching for a way to arrest Jesus and kill him. But they agreed that it shouldn’t happen during the festival; otherwise, there would be an uproar among the people.

Jesus was at Bethany visiting the house of Simon, who had a skin disease. During dinner, a woman came in with a vase made of alabaster and containing very expensive perfume of pure nard. She broke open the vase and poured the perfume on his head. Some grew angry. They said to each other, “Why waste the perfume? This perfume could have been sold for almost a year’s pay and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her.

Jesus said, “Leave her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for me. You always have the poor with you; and whenever you want, you can do something good for them. But you won’t always have me. She has done what she could. She has anointed my body ahead of time for burial. I tell you the truth that, wherever in the whole world the good news is announced, what she’s done will also be told in memory of her.”

Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to give Jesus up to them. When they heard it, they were delighted and promised to give him money. So he started looking for an opportunity to turn him in. (Mark 14:1–11, Common English Bible)

By now it is clear where this story is leading: Jesus will be betrayed by one of his own and put to death on a Roman cross. And given the context, and the way in which his last week has unfolded, it is not at all surprising that this is how it will end.

Yet so often we approach Holy Week as if this whole thing was some kind of cosmic or theological mystery. Why did Jesus die? What does it all mean? How should I respond to this? Where do I fit in?

Jesus died because he confronted the powers of his day—political and religious—with a radical alternative. From the very beginning of his ministry, he made it crystal clear that he was here to proclaim the emergence of God’s new kingdom and to demonstrate what it looks like in the life of a person fully committed to the love of God and the love of others. In these last days, he made it equally clear that he was willing to take this vision all the way. He was willing to not just talk about it out in the desert or by the peaceful shores of the lake—he was willing to bring this vision of God’s kingdom right into the heart of all that stood in the way of it becoming a reality.

I understand why we want to make this a personal journey. I understand why we gravitate to abstractions about suffering or overlay this very earthy story with theological speculations about what was going on behind the scenes. It’s because we are just as implicated in the things Jesus came to Jerusalem to confront. We too live in a culture that privileges the wealthy at the expense of the poor. We too live in a culture that uses religion to legitimate political ideologies. We too live in a culture that represses the rights of some while heralding the rights of the majority. We too live in a culture that resorts to violence—against others and against our own people—because we think it will solve our problems.

With eyes and ears wide open, first-century Jerusalem doesn’t sound all that foreign—which means that Jesus is here to confront us as well.

Notes
Thursday and Friday of Holy Week were covered in the Communion liturgy of this service.

I have drawn much material for this sermon from Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan’s, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Final Days in Jerusalem, which has become essential Holy Week reading for me.