“Emptied”
March 28, 2021 | Mark 11:1-11; Philippians 2:1-11
March 28 Lent VI Mark 11:1-11; Philippians 2:1-11 “Emptied”
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11 When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2 and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. 3 If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” 4 They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5 some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” 6 They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7 Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8 Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. 9 Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” 11 Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.
Philippians 2:3-11
3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. 5 Let the same mind be in you that was[a] in Christ Jesus,
6 who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, 8 he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.
9 Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
10 so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11 and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
“Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem” by Oleksandr Antonyuk
Late Thursday afternoon, I joined Jean, one of our sextons to fold bulletins. Jean is a wonderful artist and she thinks the Bible is weird. And so do I. Noting the title of this painting she said, “Why call this ‘Jesus’ Triumphal Entry…? He doesn’t look very triumphant.” So I explained that Jesus’ riding into Jerusalem on a donkey is a parody. A bit of political theater. While Jesus is entering the city via the east gate on his skinny donkey, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in charge of this Jewish province, is riding through the west gate on his white horse, with soldiers and weapons, to ensure that the Jewish pilgrims flooding Jerusalem to celebrate Passover don’t get out of hand. Pilate will supervise Jesus’ trial and order his crucifixion. I ended by saying, “Jesus doesn’t work with this kind of power. He resists religious and governmental intimidation and violence with divine love. Love is his only weapon. This is his triumph.”
Little Jesus on his bony borrowed donkey. It appears he is sitting for a formal portrait, looking quietly into the eyes of the painter. What is that look on Jesus’ face? Is there a furrow on his brow? Is he resigned? At peace? In grief? Is there fear in him? Oleksandr, this Romanian painter who knows political tyranny, gives us this portrait of Jesus, the anti-hero, with his face set toward a dangerous future.
Mark’s whole story of Jesus turns on the question that Jesus asks his disciples exactly halfway into the gospel: “Who do you say that I am?” There are lots of possible answers. And like all the people in this gospel story, the way that we answer depends on our circumstance. The story questions us. The story asks: What is your position in society? What is your class, your race, your gender? Do you have privilege? Do you have power? What do you hope for? Mark shows us people answering the question of who Jesus is by the way they respond to what he does. The gospel invites us to keep following along, watching, questioning. What is Jesus doing? How are people responding to him? How will I respond? How will you respond to Jesus’ question: “who do you say that I am?”
This past Tuesday, the last juror was selected in the trial of Officer Chauvin who suffocated George Floyd by kneeling on his neck. Mr. Floyd’s murder ten months ago provoked Black Lives Matter protests around the world, despite the threat of COVID and white supremacists. Fifty-six years ago in this month, thousands marched from Selma to Montgomery with Dr. King, to protest discriminations that robbed African Americans of their right to vote. National guard troops lined the way, carrying guns. Today, in several Southern states there are new laws being proposed that will impede the voting rights of black and brown people. All these realities speak into our Palm Sunday observance as we remember Jesus, moving with the crowd to Jerusalem.
Many interpretations of today’s gospel story say that today the crowd blesses God for sending Jesus to save them, but in a few days, they will cry out for his crucifixion. They say these folks are fickle, without real faith in God. Likely, some of them are, as surely as we are. But as I see these 1st century Jewish pilgrims through the lens of those who marched with prophet Martin Luther King, Jr., and I think of the courageous faith of the Black Church, captured in the Palm Sunday spiritual, “Ride on King Jesus, Ride on in Majesty,” I think these interpretations are at least partly wrong.
There is no one in this story who is more eager for Jesus to live than the people marching with him to Jerusalem. Their “Hosanna” means “God, save us, now!” This is the cry of the poor. The powerless. The oppressed. Overtaxed and underpaid. No vote. No right to protest against injustices. They are subject to religious leaders who cooperate with an unjust political system. Their hands are tied. Their voices are silenced. But on this particular day, they forget all of that. Their hopes are set on Jesus. They have seen God’s power at work in him. He hangs with the poor and oppressed, heals the sick, teaches with authority, confronts the religious leader, and casts out the demonic.
So when Jesus comes down that road to Jerusalem, they let it rip. Throw palm branches and their only cloaks down to honor Jesus. With reckless abandon they shout: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” To hell with the Roman soldiers. To hell with the system. Their courage is up. Their fears are down. They are not fickle. They have faith in God. And the God they have faith in is the One who “with a mighty arm” defeated Pharoah’s armies and emancipated their ancestors. They have faith in this God who years later brought them out of their exile. This is their story. This is their song. This is who God has been for them and who they want God to be, now. Why would they, of all people, cry out for Jesus’ crucifixion?
On that Friday we call Good, God doesn’t show up in the ways they hope. There is no swift defeat of the enemy, no sudden emancipation, no quick fix for their suffering. By Friday afternoon, Jesus is dead, and what lives in them is confusion and disappointment. They are still stuck. Still waiting for God to intervene. I feel a lot of compassion for these people who courageously marched into Jerusalem with Jesus and returned home wearing trampled cloaks, carrying trampled hopes.
It is deeply human to want heroes who can bring quick fixes. Who can end our own suffering, and overcome the world’s brokenness, conflicts, inequalities, poverty, and dis-ease. And the truth is, I want that someone to be God. I want God to break through decisively, now. To turn the world right again. I want God to be Almighty. Not a weak, vulnerable, anti-hero.
Who do we say that God is? What can we expect from a God who comes to the world in Jesus, in the form of a slave, emptied of the kind of divine power that defeated Pharoah and his armies? Who do we say that Jesus is? What can we expect from this peasant king who has to borrow a little donkey to stage his parody of the conquering hero who rides in on a white horse, wielding weapons? What can we expect from this humble Jewish man who on the night before he is crucified takes the bread and cup of the Passover feast and passes it to his disciples (knowing they will betray him) saying , “This is my body broken for and given you; this is my life blood poured out for you.”
What can you expect from this One who comes in the name of the Lord God, and messes with our expectations and domestications of him? What can you hope for from this One who possesses next to nothing; whose greatest possession is a love for the world, a love for you that gives up everything to possess you, and will keep on giving for as long as it takes to turn the world round right? Ride on king Jesus. Ride on in the majesty and mystery of your long-suffering, triumphing love.
Prayer: Blessed Jesus, as we enter this Holy Week, empty us of everything that prevents us from following you. Empty us of grasping to hold onto privilege and security. Empty us of fear. Empty us of hopelessness. Fill us with your love. Fill us with your passionate, humble, justice-seeking mind. Fill us with your fierce courage so we can follow you. Always and every where you go.