That We All May Be One

“A suicide bomber killed at least 65 people, mostly women and children, at a park in Lahore on Sunday in an attack claimed by a Pakistani Taliban faction which said it had targeted Christians. More than 300 other people were wounded, officials said. The explosion occurred in the parking area of Gulshan-e-lqbal Park close to children’s swings.” (Reuters)

Close to children’s swings…

If ever we needed verification that there is sheer, naked, unimaginable evil in this world, perhaps that phrase will do it. Close to children’s swings. Some hate-filled, misguided murderer strapped explosives to his body and decided to move close to children playing on the quintessential child’s toy — a swing — before he blew himself…and their little bodies…to pieces.

Much has been made of the fact that this was Easter Sunday, and that the vast majority of people in the park were of the 2% minority population (Christians) in the park. But Muslims died too. People of no particular faith died too. Hatred and barbarism know no political, ethnic, or religious bounds. We see that in the senseless acts of random violence (multiplied many times by the plethora of guns in our society) right here in the United States.

Yet, this was not a random act of a madman. This was a coordinated, planned attack on a particular group of people held on a particular day, holy to them, and to much of the world. And so 65 more souls (and probably many more in the next days and weeks as more of the injured lose their battle for life) join the “great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands…” (Revelation 7:9)

For “the white robed army of martyrs” of the Te Deum continue to “praise you, O God.

Because, in the midst of it all, Christ is Risen, He is Risen indeed. Alleluia!

It must have been so frustrating for them, his friends and followers. Why don’t they get it? Why don’t they understand? Why don’t they realize that they have, right here in their midst, the Anointed One we have all been waiting for? Could it be possible that the opposition is so widespread that he might actually be assassinated, right here in the Holy City?

But, gradually, they remembered his teaching. They remembered the times he, like the prophet Isaiah of old, had told stories of vineyards and owners of vineyards and tenant farmers who worked in those vineyards. One in particular stood out: the one about an absentee owner sending slave after slave to these sharecroppers to collect the lion’s share of the produce; and how they were beaten and some even killed; and about his finally sending his son, who was also killed.

They knew that the image of the vineyard had often been used by the prophets to symbolize Israel itself. And so it was no great leap to interpret Jesus’ coded message that he would have to suffer, and even die, as some of the prophets had done, as Israel itself had done. But, would that be the end of it all? Would his life end up as counting for nothing? Would his mission be a failure?

But then, they also remembered a line from Psalm 118, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing and it is amazing to our eyes.” And they recalled the rabbis interpreting this as the essence of Israel’s mission — they would always be despised and rejected as a people, but somehow in God’s own way, they would be instrumental in repairing the world!

Israel would become the cornerstone.

Perhaps — even if the worst should happen — Jesus would too.

Today we continue the account of Jesus’ conflict with the religious establishment after the dramatic “moneychangers in the temple” event of yesterday. Today, the chief priests, scribes and elders ask the obvious question, “By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you the authority to do them?” (Mark 11:28)

That is to say: Yesterday, you stood in the midst of the temple, questioned the entire sacrificial system, and accused our leaders of robbing the poor to advance their own ends! How dare you? “Who made you the boss of us,” as our kids might put it today.

Jesus responds by setting them up with a brilliant conundrum, a “Catch 22” if there ever was one. Basically, he asked them who gave his predecessor, John the Baptist, his authority. John was a prophet in the long line of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and others, at least according to his followers — who were many. The religious leaders had tried to “stay neutral” on the Baptizer as he came into conflict with their Roman overlords.

Now they were being called out. If they denied that he was a prophet, the people might rise up in revolt. If they said that he was a prophet, that his authority came from God, the obvious question would be, “Then why didn’t you acknowledge him. And come to his assistance when he was arrested and murdered by Herod?”

They took the Fifth –“I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may tend to incriminate me.”

In a court of law, such a statement usually means the defendant is guilty.

Same here.

Jesus – 1; Chief priests, scribes and elders – 0

Shortly after Mark’s account of Jesus riding into Jerusalem, setting up the inevitable conflict with the religious and political authorities of his day, we have the story of him “turning the tables” on the money changers in the temple (Mark 11:12-25). This event has often been interpreted as having something to do with commerce being carried on in this sacred place. But there is something far more important going on than that.

The “money changers” and “those who sold doves” were not the primary targets of Jesus’ anger here. They were actually providing a service to the people because pilgrims to Jerusalem needed someone to exchange currency for them and, because it was impractical to transport animals for the temple sacrifices across the many miles of their journeys, they needed someone to provide what these devout folks needed to perform their religious duties.

Jesus was not exactly a fan of the sacrificial system, but this was not the “ditch he was prepared to die in.” On occasion he even told those whose healing he had facilitated to show themselves to the priests and make the appropriate sacrifice in thanksgiving for their healing.

The key to what Jesus was really on about has to do with the famous line, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations, but you have made it a den of robbers.” Think about it: a den of robbers is not where the primary transgressions are carried out. A den is where robbers might retreat to find safety (a “safe house” if you will) after they had done their dirty deeds elsewhere.

Jesus knew that the religious establishment of his day had been co-opted by the occupying Roman government and, in addition to the exorbitant taxation laid upon the people by the Romans, were taking advantage of their own people by requiring “tithes and offerings” the average peasant (who were Jesus’ primary followers) could hardly afford.

In fact, one reading of the story of the “widow’s mite” was not that she was being commended for “giving her last penny, all she had” but that Jesus was warning people that, while the rich folks could easily afford to give the great sums required by the chief priests, they — like the widow — must beware of the religious authorities’ tendency to take them for all they were worth!

So, Jesus was not really after the bottom-feeding money changers and dove peddlers in the temple, but the chief priests and levites who took advantage of the people six days a week and then retreat into their sanctuaries, their “den” on the high holy days.

Sound familiar?

New Testament scholars John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg have suggested that, on that first “Palm Sunday” there were two processions (parades) entering the holy city of Jerusalem. From the east, the familiar “peasants’ parade” with Jesus sitting atop a donkey and crowds of his supporters cheering him on the way as he brought his message of the reign of God right into the heart of the religious and political establishment.

From the west, this reading goes, a military procession (parade) approaches led by the Roman governor Pontius Pilate at the head of an army regiment complete with leather helmets, spears and swords, and an eagle atop the lead lance. Always conscious that large public celebrations like the Passover festival could erupt into violence and protest against the occupying Roman authority, it made sense to boost the number of available troops just in case, and to make a show of their entrance to discourage any disruptive activity.

Whether this reading of the story is is poetry or history, there is no doubt in my mind that the Palm Sunday entry set up an inevitable clash between the kingship of Caesar and the kingship of God and that Jesus knew precisely what he was doing in every detail. He chose to ride into town on a donkey symbolically identifying himself with the Messiah hoped for by the prophet Zechariah:

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Sing aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…” (Zechariah 9:9)

This was the kind of “enacted parable” made famous by prophets like Jeremiah who regularly provided such “visual aids” to underscore the message they believed they were to deliver from God to the people. If there was ever any doubt that Jesus considered himself as the Messiah, the anointed one of God chosen to bring freedom and peace to his people, this action alone should serve to put that doubt to rest.

He knew what he was doing. And his question to the crowds was, “Which parade do you want to be in — Caesar’s or God’s?”

Two thousand years later, the question remains: “Which parade do you want to be in — Caesar’s or God’s?

Remember that question on election day.