There’s something exciting about a parade. It could be the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Tournament of Roses parade, or even a Pride parade. Each of them is a spectacle. There was this kind of spectacle that happened each year in Jerusalem during the Roman occupation. The Roman governor, who resided at the coastal city of Caesarea, had an annual parade to Jerusalem. As the Jewish nation prepared to celebrate Passover, the governor would enter Jerusalem as the representative of Caesar. It was meant to be a display of power and domination. The governor would enter through the main gate with soldiers marching in formation, banners flying, and the power of the Roman empire on display. It was surely a majestic sight. It reminded the Jews that they were a colony controlled by Rome at a time when the Jews recalled the deliverance of their ancestors from oppressors in Egypt.
Imagine, if you will, that while the Tournament of Roses parade was winding through Pasadena with people straining to get a glimpse of the amazing floats, across town in some impoverished neighborhood some locals put on their own parade. Rather than huge artistic floats of flowers, there were rickety bicycles and wagons with people holding tree branches and flowers plucked from yards lining the way. That’s something like what happened on the day Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.
Preachers have painted pictures of the entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem as some sort of a triumph. It wasn’t. It was more like street theater. It was a foil to the parade of Roman oppression. In essence, Jesus’ parade into Jerusalem was the poor people’s parade. It was a parade for those who weren’t important to the government – a government that viewed them as the riffraff of society. It was this government that occupied their land and collected unjust taxes and treated them unfairly. This was the parade for people who hoped against all hope that God may have a better plan for them than the Roman Empire.
We read the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem from the perspective of two thousand years of Christian history. We recognize Christianity as a world religion and know the history of political influence that has been part of Christianity. But in the year 33, there was no Christianity. There was an itinerant teacher who had some followers. He was just one of many religious teachers who roamed the landscape of ancient Palestine. Like the others, he was an annoyance to the religious leaders of his day.
This teacher had a reputation. Some people sought him out because he spoke of hope, love, and compassion. Others had heard that he was a miracle worker. Others wanted to put an end to him because he threatened the delicate status quo. The leaders of Jerusalem wanted to make sure Rome didn’t take over their temple or overturn their religious-based power structure. “It’s better for one man to die,” they had said.
We miss that this long-haired, dark-skinned, scruffy teacher taught things that subverted the power-structure of the day. He said things like the least would be the greatest and the greatest must be the servant of all. He explained that the truly wealthy person was the one who gave it all away. He even had the nerve to say that poor street people would be welcomed to the banquet and given seats of honor over the wealthy people with privilege.
That day when Jesus came riding into Jerusalem riding a borrowed donkey, something incredible happened. Ordinary folks, poor people, recognized him as their leader. They knew the Roman governor didn’t have their best interest at heart. The governor stole their money and property in the name of taxes. The governor kept them down. But this preacher? He gave them hope! He taught that the realm of God was here and now and open for everyone. It was a message that stirred within them.
Most of us are sheltering at home during this pandemic. There are those of us who have lost jobs or have been furloughed indefinitely. Some of us know people with COVID-19. A few of us know people who have died. Our lives have been drastically shaken up and we have no control over it. Because of isolation, many of us for the first time in our lives have a sense of marginalization. We’re out of step with life as we believe it should be. We don’t know when it will end.
It’s perhaps in this context that the message of Jesus makes the most sense. The gospel attributed to Luke tells us that Jesus began his mission by reflecting on a passage from the Hebrew prophet Isaiah: I’ve come to bring good news to the poor, release to the captive, a year of favor. That message stirred in the hearts of people in his day and brought them to the street to welcome him. He was their rock-star. He wasn’t the governor nor part of the religious establishment. He spoke of hope and healing while touching the lives of people deeply.
Recalling the heart of the teachings of Jesus, sheltering at home and in safety, perhaps we can consider what brings us hope during this time of pandemic? Are there things that bring us comfort? In times past, what did we hold onto in difficult times? Just as the people of Jerusalem needed hope and comfort during their difficult days, so too, we need to nurture our spirits with what inspires us to find goodness and wholeness in life. Doing that will help to make this week both whole and holy. That’s how we’ll experience the new life of Easter.
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