One of the most thoughtful gifts I ever
received was given to me by my father: a GPS. This little electronic miracle on
my car’s dashboard not only gives me to most efficient way to find someone’s
house or a meeting location, but it also shows me the approximate time I’ll
arrive at my destination. It gives me great peace of mind to have that kind of
control. As a new minister, my dad knew that I’d have to find my way around
town and he knew what he was doing when he gave it to me (thanks Dad!).
I’ve come to realize that without the GPS
I’ve got a little problem with my sense of direction. If I have to guess where
I am going, I am often one hundred and eighty degrees off. If I choose to go
right, I should have gone left.
Before leaving for Jerusalem I studied a
number of maps just in case I became separated from the group and unable to
find my way back to the dorms. My GPS doesn’t work in a foreign country. I hoped
that studying my surroundings carefully would make a difference, because I didn’t
want to get caught looking like a tourist with my nose in a map. Sometimes, the
geography around me can be misleading, and I’ve learned that just because a
road looks like it should go somewhere, doesn’t necessarily make it so.
I wonder if that happened with Jesus too.
Today is Palm Sunday, a day that we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into
Jerusalem. In our minds eye we picture crowds shouting “Hosanna” (go ahead,
wave your palms!) as Jesus and his followers wind their way down then up the
cobble street road to enter the city from the Eastern side through the Golden
Gate from the village of Bethany.
Most people who watched them go by wouldn’t
have guessed that in a week he would be dying on a cross. Maybe the ones who
followed him closely had an idea, whether they could bring themselves to admit
it or not. But everyone else? They didn’t know where Jesus’ road was leading. Their
hope was that it was leading to a marvelous kingship, that this Jesus of
Nazareth would overturn the rule of Rome and usher in the realm of God.
Geography matters because it determines
the road you are on.
Over on the western side of Jerusalem
another parade is entering through the Damascus Gate. This assembly is
altogether different; it’s a Roman garrison, ordered there by Tiberius Caesar
to back up Pontius Pilate during the season of Passover. Drums beat out a
marching rhythm, horses prance in formation, thousands of soldiers on foot and
mount display power and might and strike fear in the hearts of those assembled.
The crowd is ordered to bow down in reverence and obedience, some willingly,
others under duress.
There were two different parades, on two
different roads, for two very different reasons, headed in two different
directions. The Roman army was there to “keep the peace” and order of the domination
system, which was always tricky during time of religious pilgrimage when the
city would expand with visitors. In a society dominated by political
oppression, economic exploitation and religious justification this public showing
of brute power and force kept chaos at bay, at least for a time.
But the other parade, the one with the Nazarene
teacher riding a small donkey, the one with the crowd of peasants shouting “Hosanna!
Save us!” - that parade was there to redefine what peace could be for
God’s people. The road Jesus’ was on quite literally had a fork in it. Had he
taken the turn to the north, he would have been in the path of the military
parade on their way to the Antonia Fortress. Instead, he turned southwest and
towards the temple, indicating that the work that was to be done began in the
place where they worshipped and learned about God.
Jesus, of course, knew where the road was
headed – according to Mark’s gospel he warned his followers three times that
there would be trouble ahead, that they would not be well-received. But they kept
on going, despite the fear and trembling, even though they could hear the war
drums sound a few blocks away. What would you have done?
I know how I would have responded,
because in addition to being somewhat directionally impaired, I have a great
fear of being lost. The road that Jesus was on would have looked like
"lost" to me. I wouldn’t have been able to turn that donkey around
fast enough!
Yet, we don’t get any hint that Jesus
wants to head his donkey in a different direction. Mark Twain said, "The
two most important days in a person’s life are the day he is born and the day
he finds out why." Jesus knew why he was born: to confront the domination
system and show these people who followed him and kept messing up over and over
that life, not death, is the final word.
What looks like "lost" to us
looks like a purpose for being to Jesus. Perhaps you remember Robert Frost’s
famous poem "The Road Not Taken," which paints a picture for us about
two paths in a wooded area. We get the impression that Frost stands at a fork
in the path for a while and calculates which one he should take. One seems to
be well traveled; one is still grassy because it has not yet been trampled
down. Perhaps one is safe, but the other is beautiful and wild. Maybe he knows
exactly where one of the paths comes out, but the other could take him in a
direction that is new and exciting and beyond his control. It’s a difficult choice
indeed. In the poem, Frost chooses between safety
and beauty, between known and unknown. Frost ends his poem this way: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I
took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
Jesus makes an undeniably harder choice:
between life and death, between security and purpose. Maybe what we are
celebrating today is simply the notion that Jesus chose the path that few
others did, the path paved with mercy, love and compassion. The small,
insignificant gathering of pilgrims and peasants who followed him believed it
just might be possible to change the world for the better, to usher in the
realm of God. And that was why they were on the road with him.
The question that Jesus asks us today is
“what road are you on?” Is it the road that leads to restoration and wholeness,
to a society shaped by grace?
