Thinking a bit as we head into Palm Sunday and reflecting on what that really means to me. I remember as a child bearing the palm frond, proclaiming the victory of the faithful over the enemies of the soul, the jingoist proclamations that we marched “Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus, going on before.” It’s a strange thing we call Palm Sunday a celebration, and I believe that story is more important than ever today as we face the omnipresent abomination of hatred and decimation those the empire deems lesser must endure.
I understand the perception of celebrating; people are singing, shouting, quoting scripture, crying out proclaiming salvation, chanting. They wave branches and throw down their coats to cover the ground. Instead of proclaiming “Peace on Earth” as the angels prophesied to the shepherds in Luke 2, they chant, “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” When the Pharisees observe the jubilant beckoning, they demand Jesus quiet his disciples and how does he respond? “If they were silent, the stones would cry out.” The prophet Habakkuk (2: 11,12) shares with us “Woe to him who builds a town with bloodshed, who establishes a city by iniquity! For the stone will cry out from the wall, and the beam from the timbers will answer it.” In the violent silencing of hatred, the very stones and beams that were once silent observers will become vocal accusers.
Hearing this at what amounts to a coronation for a king with no want for blind adoration, in the midst of this jubilant revolution, Luke tells us that Jesus enters Jerusalem, and He weeps. Furthermore, he rides on, But why? Luke tells us this story of subtle protest to power in a parade that leads ever closer to the cross. Jesus doesn’t ride in on a majestic warhorse. He knows that peace derived from violence is no peace at all, He tells us that “all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (Matthew 25:52). Jesus enters the city on the young colt of divine choosing that has never been ridden. A colt who’s divinity is prophesied and fulfilled (Luke 19:30) as its owners doff their coats as a makeshift saddle blanket and place Jesus upon it’s back.
As he draws near the city, He proclaims, “If you had known, even you, especially in this your day, the things that make for your peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. For days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment around you, surround you and close you in on every side, and level you, and your children within you, to the ground; and they will not leave in you one stone upon another, because you did not know the time of your visitation.” He recognizes that peace has been exiled from Earth to the Heavens. Even though that peace is right in front of them offering this new covenant of righteousness, the people cannot see it, but still He rides towards the cross.
We must remember this covenant as we discern what peace truly is and our commitment to it. It is our imperative to actively deconstruct these walls that we’ve built that actively exclude each other with a differing definition of this peace. He commands us to love our Lord with all of our heart, and to love our neighbor as ourself, “there is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:31) He does not compel us to love only Christians, to love only those that follow His word, to love only those that think the way we do. He commands us to love unconditionally with all of our heart, because He knows above all this is our greatest test.
The world is wrought with those who proclaim this vain peace in his name, of subservience by violence. Still we must seek this everlasting peace, still we must ride on.
