Love and Courage

Matthew 21:1-13

Emmanuel Baptist Church

April 5, 2020; Rev. Kathy Donley

Note: Image is by Wilhelm Morgner 1891-1917. Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.

A picture went around social media this week. It’s of a WWII soldier carrying a small donkey on his back. The caption explains that the soldiers are walking through a mine field and if the donkey was allowed to wander as it pleased, it would likely step on a mine and get everyone killed. So the soldier’s job is to control the donkey, in this case, by carrying it. The soldiers have to go out, to do their jobs, but it is safer for everyone if the donkey and other civilians stay home.

Those of us practicing social isolation are frightened and angry at the donkeys who seem to have no awareness and are running out as they please in a minefield, or perhaps I should say “germ-field”.

Jesus’ followers are probably similarly frightened and angry with Jesus because he has resolutely made his way to Jerusalem. For the last five chapters Jesus has been telling them that he is going to Jerusalem where he will be executed. They protested, but his mind is made up. They think that the most loving thing Jesus can do is stay at home in Galilee, where he is safe and they are safe.

They think they need to control Jesus before he gets them all killed. Weeks earlier, Jesus decided to leave Galilee, the region with small villages and a big lake, an area relatively far from the centers of power. He could have stayed in Galilee and lived out a normal life, doing the honorable work of carpentry and teaching in the synagogue as an edgy young rabbi. But he made the risky decision to go south, to Jerusalem at the time of Passover.

This is the beginning of the week in Jesus’ life we call Holy. Other weeks were also holy. But in this week, we see the greatest concentration of love and courage as Jesus’ commitment to his God-given mission is tested over and over again. What we will see is that there are always choices to be made about going out and staying in. Jesus goes to Jerusalem, over the protests of the disciples, but he doesn’t always risk himself. By day, he goes to the Temple, but at night he retreats to the town of Bethany. It is a place where he is safer, where he can relax in the comfort of his friends Mary and Martha and Lazarus.

I point that out because many of us are weighing our daily decisions in terms of love and courage. Some of us have jobs that are essential for the well-being of others. The most loving thing we can do is to leave our families at home and go to work. Others of us really need to stay at home, even though we are bored and possibly claustrophobic. Staying put may feel like doing nothing and the idea of not accomplishing something, not checking off some project on a to-do list bothers us. But staying put may be the most strongly loving thing we can do. And sometimes there is a middle ground. We go out, briefly, maintaining our distance with disinfectant wipes at the ready, to pick up a prescription or deliver groceries to the front porch of a neighbor who seems at more risk than we are.

Jesus could have stayed in Galilee, but he didn’t. He made the trip to Jerusalem to put his body on the front line, to get personally involved.

Before Jesus got there, the air of Jerusalem would have been thick with excitement because of the festival. The Passover celebrated the liberation of the people from slavery centuries earlier. It was a volatile time, since they were celebrating liberation while under Roman occupation. The Romans were so wary that they increased the normal number of troops in the city, and the governor himself, a man by the name of Pontius Pilate, moved inland from his headquarters in Caesarea to Jerusalem during Passover.

The trip to Jerusalem from Galilee took 3-5 days of walking, which is how Jesus always traveled. So when he decided to ride a donkey into the capital city, he was making a statement.

When people saw Jesus on the donkey, they would have understood immediately. They didn’t need Matthew to quote the prophet Zechariah like he does for our benefit. Zechariah 9:9 says “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, . . .” The word translated as triumphant really means “righteous”. The king described here has a focus not on military power, but on justice.

New Testament scholar AJ Levine says, “Zechariah speaks of a king who does not lord it over others, but who takes his place with those who are suffering. Zechariah speaks of a king who is righteous rather than violent. Zechariah speaks about a king who is strong in faith, not armed to the teeth.”[1]

Jesus rides a donkey, while on the other side of the city, Pilate enters at the head of a procession, on a war horse. Jesus drives a tractor. Pilate is in a tank. Jesus doesn’t attempt to hide among the throngs of pilgrims. He makes a point to stand out. This is one of the most politically explosive acts of his ministry and he is all in.

We are rightfully wary when religion and politics start to mix. Our Baptist ancestors championed the practice of faith that was free from political control for good reason. But we also know that Jesus’ ministry was political, that he challenged those with power who used it to exploit and oppress the powerless. This parade of his is an unmistakable challenge to Caesar, to Empire. As he has done in so many other contexts, he is showing what true power looks like. In the reign of God, which Jesus inaugurates, there is no grasping for status, no competition, no concern for personal gain. Instead, there is solidarity with the suffering and concern for the well-being of all.

The American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr said that “when we talk about love we have to become mature or we will become sentimental. Basically love means . . . being responsible, responsibility to our family, toward our civilization, and now by the pressures of history, toward the universe of humankind which includes our enemies”[2]

Mature love is responsible. Jesus challenges the political authorities because they are not loving, not responsible. On a daily basis, you and I are watching political leaders exercise their authority. It is pretty plain to see who is grasping for status, who is in it for personal gain, and who is acting for the good of all.

You have, no doubt, heard the story of Brett Crozier, the Captain of a navy aircraft carrier who repeatedly asked his superiors for help in dealing with the virus outbreak on his ship. When he got no response, he sent an e-mail to a wider network of officers. That letter was leaked to the media and he was fired. Even those who fired him agree that his motivation was the health and well-being of his sailors. He is 50 years old and the future of his Naval career is in serious question. Responsible love sometimes requires the courage to do the right thing no matter the personal cost.

Jesus walks the road to Jerusalem, knowing that the road might lead to the cross. God doesn’t stay at a safe distance but gets personally involved in a messy, political, dangerous event.

Our friend Dan Buttry is retired from his role as Global Peacemaker, but still actively engaged as a disciple of Jesus. This week he said, “ ‘God is on the throne,’ some people say. Well, yes, but I don't find that particularly helpful. Makes me want to yell at heaven, "Get off your seat and do something!" And that's where another part of our theology comes in. God isn't on the throne only, but is in the streets, in the grocery stores, in the locked-down homes, in the hospital emergency rooms and in the isolation rooms. God is in the crowded slums where "social distancing" is worthy of a sarcastic laugh. God is in the neighbor doing the shopping for a needy friend or family.

The whole meaning of "Emmanuel" is "God is with us." That's what gives so many of us hope and courage and even laughter amid the anxiety and tears. I don't find "meaning" in this scourge, but I do find goodness, beauty, and grace rising up again and again with rebellious determination and grit, and I find God amid that rising as instigator and renewed energy.”[3]

The crowd yells “Hosanna” which does not mean “Hooray”. It means “Save us”. We cry to the God who is with us to save us from sin, from irresponsible power, from selfishness, but also to save us from fear, pain, despair, and oppression. The story of this week that we’re entering is that Jesus does save us. Jesus saves us, paradoxically, through his suffering and vulnerability, through his resolute courage and the strength of love.

Jesus will carry his own cross. He will walk steadily up the hill to his death. He will face it all in love, strong love for his friends, strong love for his people; strong love for God. All praise be to him. Amen.

[2] Reinhold Niebuhr, Justice and Mercy, edited by Ursula M. Niebuhr (New York: Harper and Row, 1976, p. 35

[3] Daniel Buttry, on his Facebook page, April 4, 2020