Palm Sunday as Street theater? Guerilla theater? Political
theater?
One May Day around 1970 I was asked to take part in some
anti-war guerilla theater on the Trinity College campus. An improv group was
staging spontaneous anti-war skits all over the campus all day long. My job was
to disrupt them. Dressed in a long, leather coat and military cap, I was to
play the role of the Specter of Fascist Doom. Once they had attracted a crowd
and were into their anti-war skit, I would show up shouting them down,
ridiculing their phony liberal stunts and even physically disrupt what they
were doing. Evidently I did a good enough job at it that people, even people I
knew well, were worried about me. They offered to buy me coffee to calm me
down, tried to break my “character,” and were honestly concerned about my
well-being! Over the next ten years or so I participated in other street
theatre troupes and demonstrations, including the one-day No Nukes rally that
shut down Manhattan with the fabled Bread and Circus oversize puppets leading
the way. Not a car on the streets that day! Talk about getting the world’s
attention.
Then there was the Saturday afternoon we drove two car loads
of youth group, food and clothing into Manhattan to distribute to homeless
people. It was around 1991. One group of homeless persons told us to go park
near a small park across the street from the United Nations and just watch and
wait. Sure enough, from beneath the UN came a woman in a bathrobe and fuzzy
pink slippers. She made her way across the street into the park where there was
a public toilet. When she was headed back across the street I spoke to her
about our mission of food and clothing. She said she would be right back. When
she returned she invited us down into a service tunnel below the UN where a
small community of people had set up camp with cardboard boxes. Some explained
that they even had apartments elsewhere in NYC, but felt this was a safer place
than the neighborhoods they came from.
They told us that when an important dignitary would visit they would be
sent back to the streets for a few days, after which they would return to their
refuge beneath the international community overhead.
When interpreting a story like Jesus’s entry to Jerusalem,
usually referred to as Palm Sunday, or his Triumphal Entry, we need to remember
a few things about that ancient city and its militarized life as part of the
Roman Empire on that particular day. The Old City is surrounded by a wall.
Homeless people, the poor, the lame, the blind, orphans, widows, outcasts of
all kinds were usually relegated to being outside the walls to ply their trade
as beggars. This would be particularly true during the festival of Passover
when true believers and curious visitors from all over the ancient world would
be there. Pontius Pilate’s job was to keep the peace, make sure there were no
rebellions, no demonstrations. So the streets would be cleared of one and all
who might make a scene and whose presence might be “unpleasant”.
Further, when the emperor or king or other high officials
would visit, they would arrive in procession, often on horseback, the rabble
being further marginalized ,appointed folks would line the roadway leading into
the city cheering and welcoming the leader, even if they despised the regime.
Like at the UN, the way would be cleared for a triumphal and controlled
procession, mitigating any sense of danger or demonstration.
So it is Passover in Jerusalem. Jesus has a plan. He sends
two of his disciples to get a couple of less than royal steeds – a donkey and
her colt. We can imagine the crowd outside the walls of Jerusalem. Not your A, B or even C list characters, but all
the hoi polloi who had been rousted out of the streets by Pilate’s legions to
keep the peace as the crowds in the city swell for the Passover festival. Jesus
mounts the donkey. The people tear off parts of their already ragged clothing
and tree branches and begin a mock-procession like that of the emperor’s – only
it is not. It is political theater at its best. It makes fun of the emperor. It
makes fun of King Herod. It flies in the face of all of Pilate’s careful
preparations for another peaceful Passover.
Simply put, it makes a statement against all the powers that
would control and regulate Judean society at the expense of those who had been
expelled from the city – the poorest of the poor, the one’s Jesus says God
loves. The people along the road are loving it! And why not? It’s their first
taste of what it can be like to be a Roman citizen! And after all, had not this
young man from Nazareth shown them the first shreds of dignity they had ever
experienced in their marginalized lifetimes?
Once in the city, we are told, the city is in “turmoil.”
“Who is this?” people are asking. What is he up to? Why doesn’t somebody do
something to stop it? Who let all these people inside the gates of the city?
The prophet, “they” say.
Prophet’s in the Bible are not fortune tellers. Biblical prophets
beginning with Moses, Elijah, Isaiah, Hosea all the way up to Jesus are bearers
of an alternative consciousness to the dominant consciousness. They critique
and challenge the status quo. Is it right to spend so much time and money on
festivals and sacrifices while God’s people suffer? The Passover festival and ritual meal, the
Seder, is itself an embodiment of such an alternative consciousness – we were
slaves in the empire, God heard our cry, God sent us a man who could lead us to
freedom. What a perfect time for Jesus to launch his plan.
What happens next tells the tale of what his plan really
entails. He and his rabble go to the Temple courtyards where there is a
marketplace to support the religious rites. People are selling animals for the
appointed sacrifices. If you travel a long distance to the Jerusalem Temple it
may be too exhausting for your livestock, so fresh, perfect sheep, goats and
doves are on hand for your convenience. There is also a currency exchange. You
cannot make offerings to the Temple priests with Roman coins which bear image
of Caesar and the words, “Caesar is God.” It would be sacrilege. It would be
blasphemy. Jesus drives out the animals and overturns the tables of the
currency exchange! He strikes at the heart of the Temple, and thereby the city’s,
economy. The religious and civil authorities cannot be pleased.
It is a prophetic gesture charged with meaning: the
religious and civil authorities have lost all sense of the vision God has for G od’s people. Those who are excluded
from life in the Empire and life in Jerusalem will not be forgotten – at least
not by Jesus and those who follow in his Name. Such affluence and arrogance
inside the city while outside the city walls people are suffering will not
ultimately be allowed to continue. This cannot make God, my Father, happy. Then
Jesus returns to Bethany, the city of Mary, Martha and Lazarus, to get a good
night’s sleep before the week’s events unfold.
Triumphal Entry? Or, political, guerilla theater? Recently
the church has come to call Palm Sunday The Sunday of the Passion. I like to
think of it as Jesus’s passion for God and those whom God loves – the poor, the
homeless, the dispossessed, all whose lives are marginalized by the dominant
societal consciousness and economic practices.
It can be interpreted that things did not end well. After
all, just a few days later Jesus would be executed by the state – crucifixion
on a Roman cross, also outside the walls of the city - a fitting location for
one who devoted his life, death and resurrection to the cause of all who live
outside the system.
But, the Caesars are gone, and Jesus’s little demonstration
community remains. There are, of course, new Caesars, and new marginalized
communities outside the walls of mainstream society. To honor Palm Sunday would
be to honor Jesus’s passion for God and his love for those whom God loves.
Amen.
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