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Palm Sunday
March 15, 2008
Delivered by Kat Banakis, Seminarian
Jesus chose to die for you.
Can you will yourself to see a common day
… the way it appears from the window of the hospital
On the first morning the patient feels strong enough
To edge across the room and look out? …
Or feel what their friends waiting on the dock
Must feels as they run forward?
“Let me look at you,” they keep saying,
Suspending their formal speech of welcome
“You look good. You look wonderful.”
That excerpt from a poem by Carl Dennis reminds me of how I sometimes think God might see us.
It might seem hard to figure out what connects the Palm Sunday litany readings where Jesus says “untie the colt” and there’s a parade of palms to the Passion reading we just heard about Jesus’ death. It’s not so hard though, really. I think that it’s because Jesus saw you on the side of the road and recognized you, and thought “you look good. You look wonderful.” He suspended formal speech and simply said, “untie the colt.” In so doing, Jesus chooses to die.
Throughout the readings of the Hebrew prophets the political leaders chosen by God to lead the people are described as riding through Jerusalem on a colt. In ancient Israel riding through town on a colt with a flank of observers was a political act. Yes, it was a colt, but it was the equivalent of Jesus commandeering an American made convertible complete with security detail and a brass band for a ticker-tape parade. Jesus’ parade through town on a colt symbolized inauguration, and he chose it. Throughout today’s Matthew readings Jesus chooses again and again to willfully and knowingly die.
At his trial Pilate gives Jesus a chance to defend himself against the accusations. Pilate asks, “Are you the king of the Jews?” And Jesus refuses to change the story. He refuses to make his case or even clarify what kind of king he is. He merely answers, “You say so.” Given an out, Jesus doesn’t take it.
Then at Golgotha people from the crowd offer Jesus wine mixed with Gall, a poisonous herb that would have either killed him or at the very least anesthetized him from the physical pain and humiliation of public execution. But we are told that when Jesus tasted the brew and realized what was in it, her refused to drink it. Jesus refused not to be aware of what he was doing in dying. Jesus chose to die publicly and painfully.
But why?
Perhaps it is because Jesus saw you on the side of the road that day and loved you so much that God chose to forgive our errors and human-ness, what some call our sinfulness, in death.
My Happy Life by Lydia Millet tells the story of a young orphaned boy who grows up in foster care homes, always feeling like an extra. He carries mementos of his mother around in a shoe box. Looking at the clouds the boy finds escape: “as I looked up at the sky, in relief I often thought I saw a mother there. She was not a shoebox called Brown Ladies Narrow 8, and she was not invisible. Rather she was a coat that covered the earth and made the sun feel softer.
And she said, You are not extra, no. You are good and useful.”
You are good and useful to God. Jesus knew what he was doing. He very intentionally said: “untie the colt and bring it to me” for NAMES.
But the rub is that Jesus chose to die for everyone else too. Jesus chose to die for the person who never refills the copier paper and the most annoying person on the basketball team and your least favorite neighbor on the block. Jesus chose to die for people who refuse to recycle. Jesus chose to die for each of us.
And while we may be able to conceive of Jesus dying for people who merely bother us, can we wrap our minds around people who commit egregious sin? Two weeks ago Victor Bout, a renowned internal arms dealer was arrested in Thailand. Bout “is suspected of supplying weapons to the Taliban and Al Qaeda and of pouring huge arms shipments into Africa’s civil wars with his own private air fleet.” Victor has facilitated the death of an untold number of people. Jesus said untie the colt for Victor.
To think of ourselves and Victor both as precious to God, is hard to embody. What would that look like? I’m not talking about what would justice look like, and how we might best execute justice in relation to Victor, which is a necessary but different question. But what might our lives look like if we really thought of each person we met as the person for whom Christ died.
This might be an easy and immediate response for some of you. It’s not for me. Sometimes it helps me to squint. Before coming to divinity school I worked for Mayor Bloomberg of New York, and at one event my job was to stand next behind the mayor at a political reception he was hosting and watch the door for any possible members of the US Congress and Senate who had been invited. When a federal elected official walked through the door I had to whisper his name, state, and relevance to the Mayor so that the mayor could greet him properly. There are 535 federally elected officials. There is one me. I had been studying the Congressional photo directory and made flashcards of their photos, but the problem is that most Congressional photos are about 10 years and 20 lbs out of date. So I spent the whole afternoon squinting at the door and wondering, if this person had a glamour shot, could she be the representative from Albuquerque? If I adjust how I see them, might they look good? Look wonderful?
Maybe this week you can squint when you meet people – to see each person as the person for whom Christ chose to die. And when you look in the mirror, hear Jesus saying “untie the colt.” May we all creep into that knowledge this Holy Week as we await Christ’s resurrection.
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