April 9, 2006 (Palm Sunday)

Pilgrimage to Jerusalem

By Susie Bjork

I have often wondered if Jesus really knew what he was getting into when he left Galilee and set off towards Jerusalem. On some level he had to know. He had to know that the challenges and conflicts he would face there would be more intense than any he'd experienced thus far and would very probably take his life.

There is little doubt that Jesus felt that he was on a mission, in touch with the divine guidance within him, leading him towards Jerusalem and all that would transpire there. But, I'm not sure he had total foresight of what would happen, how every detail would play out, how every card would be dealt.

Actually, his later struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane, his prayer of desperation, seems to suggest otherwise. He longed for another way; he longed to be delivered from the suffering he faced.

But nevertheless, something pulled him to Jerusalem. Something pulled him to face those forces of structural domination head-on, those forces of political and systemic evil that could and would easily kill him.

Jesus had been pushing the boundaries against Roman authority and the religious hierarchy for awhile, but going to Jerusalem brought the debate to a new level.

A professor of mine in college used to say "Jesus could have stayed in Galilee and 'shot the breeze' with Pharisees until he was an old man, but he didn't." He headed into the heart of the conflict instead.

So here we are on Palm Sunday, the day on which we commemorate this turn towards Jerusalem, this pilgrimage towards Holy Week and all of the awe, the terror, the mystery, the sorrow, and the hope it holds.

Today is a threshold, a major turning point in the Gospel narrative, where Jesus' ministry, his action in the world, and his sense of divine call converge. They are not all that separate, after all. For Jesus, Jerusalem would become the destination of his life's pilgrimage.

This Palm Sunday pilgrimage is on one level reminiscent of a royal processional full of rich symbolism - the laying down of cloaks, the palm branches, and the colt which has been noted by many to symbolize the humility of a king.

This Palm Sunday pilgrimage, on another level is an act of praise and worship - the shouting of Hosannas (which literally means "save now" and is also an act of praise to God). There is hope for renewal and liberation, hope for God's grace, and peace, and justice in these Hosannas.

Fred Craddock, who is a Disciples of Christ pastor and a well known teacher of preaching, suggests that this Palm Sunday pilgrimage was also a type of protest march, a standing up against the seat of political power and various religious authorities in 1st century Palestine. It makes sense, actually - especially in light of the other acts of protest which follow within Mark's gospel including Jesus turning over the money changer's tables in the temple.

Many of his followers probably had great hope in Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, hope in the saving grace of God which they were desperate for, hope for release from their suffering. However, these new direct approaches, these acts of protest, were likely unsettling to some. And by Good Friday many, including Judas (and even Peter) had fled.

Palm Sunday is a paradox of sorts, holding within it both endings and beginnings; hope and fear; the very real possibility of great suffering and yet the very real hope for liberation. It's not very surprising that this public display would incite both great enthusiasm and great worry among Jesus' followers.

When I was growing up, every Holy Saturday my father and I would dye Easter eggs together and while we did that we would listen to the original rock opera recording of Jesus Christ Superstar on my dad's reel to reel tape player, usually at a ridiculously loud volume - (And then we would listen to Iron Butterfly because that was on the tape after JC Superstar). It was one of my favorite family traditions.

Now we could easily question the biblical scholarship and debate the theology of Jesus Christ Superstar, but it does have some insightful moments. Its strength in my opinion is the very human, conflicted, tragic character of Judas who thought he could help Jesus, but instead ended up betraying the one he revered.

Judas actually has more lines in the musical than Jesus and it is he who articulates all of the doubt, all of the rational arguments against stirring the political waters, and the deep fear surrounding the escalating events of Jesus' life after he turns towards Jerusalem.

Judas' opening song contains these words:

Listen Jesus do you care for your race?

Don't you see we must keep in our place?

We are occupied

Have you forgotten how put down we are?

I am frightened by the crowd

For we are getting much too loud

And they'll crush us if we go too far

Listen Jesus to the warning I give

Please remember that I want us to live

But it's sad to see our chances weakening with every hour

All your followers are blind

Too much heaven on their minds

It was beautiful, but now it's sour

Yes it's all gone sour

This is a fear that I can hardly imagine, actually. I've never lived in an occupied land. I've never had to stand up for something that might actually get me killed.

There are plenty of people in our world today, however, for whom this is a very real fear and an immanent threat. Jesus and his followers were not the first to experience this, nor were they the last.

Jesus had so much to stop him; so much to convince him otherwise, so many reasons to throw in the towel and return to Galilee, but that is not what he did. Jesus progressed forward on his pilgrimage, even unto death, to pain, to mockery, to desertion and betrayal.

It's hard to fathom where he found the courage to continue on this treacherous journey.

Perhaps the psalmist articulates the best answer:

We give thanks to You, O Beloved,

For You are kind; your steadfast love endures forever!

Let every nation proclaim, "Your steadfast love endures forever."

Let all the people cry, "Your steadfast love endures forever."

Let those who reverence You sing, "Your steadfast love endures forever."

Out of my distress I called upon You;

You answered, setting me on a new path.

With You beside me, I do not fear.

What can others do to me?

You live within me and answer my prayer as I face the fears that well up from within.

You live within me and answer my prayer as I face the fears that well up from within.

There is an important lesson to be found in these words; there is an important lesson to be found in Jesus' courage.

God is with us every step of the way. We cannot escape God's love and grace. Even on the most frightening, difficult, reality-shattering pilgrimages of our lives, God's steadfast love endures forever.

God's steadfast love endures forever: in the awe, the pain, the joy, the sorrow, the fear, the courage, the hope, the disillusionment, the liberation. All of these: found in the Holy Week experience as we mourn and we celebrate; All of these: found in the narrative of Jesus' life; All of these found in our lives, in the lives of God's Beloved Community.

None of these experiences are without their pain and suffering; none of these experiences are without their joy and wonder. It is in this paradox, this tension that we live.

But this we must remember:

We are never alone on the journey; never without the guiding love of our God on this pilgrimage.

Jesus knew this. Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Oscar Romero, Mother Theresa, and many others knew this.

So as we move into Holy Week and all that it brings with it; as we move towards Easter with hope and anticipation for a new experience of God's deep and abiding love, let us be buoyed by the words of the psalmist and by Jesus' courage. May we remember that God's steadfast love endures forever. Amen.