The liturgy of
Passion Sunday is a collision of themes: glorious hosannas and somber omens.
Isaiah promised a servant of God who would have a “face like flint” to brave
the pummeling, spit, and ridicule. Paul’s lovely hymn in Philippians is one of
triumph—“in the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth
and under the earth, and every tongue should confess”—but only after disgrace
and ignominious death.
In the gospel
reading from the Saturday prior to every Passion/Palm Sunday, we behold the
crisis of allegiance that the people of Jesus’ time faced. In that gospel,
Jesus is condemned by logic of self-defense and corporate survival. Chief
priests and high councils are threatened by Jesus and his way. He is a menace
to national and religious interests. Note the language: “If we let him go on
like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy
both our holy place and our nation.”
Caiaphas, that
“realistic” murmur of expedience in all our hearts, advises us: “It is better
for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation
destroyed.”
From this telling
statement rises the suspicion that the crisis of Palm Sunday is the crisis of
every epoch and culture. We are torn between Christ and the tribe, between
casting out allegiance with Him or with the nation, between the king’s call and
safety’s comfort.
Under every moral
crisis lurks a dread that if we ever fully followed Jesus, we would lose our
holy privilege and our clannish protections. In Jesus’ time He was rejected and
condemned for reasons of national security. So He is today.
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