Don’t be Political!

Trajan's Column, Rome
photo by M. Rosborough

 One thing we hear often as criticism of clergy is that we are too political.  They will say.  “Politics and Religion should be separate”, and for the most part United Church ministers avoid preaching about how to vote and who to vote for.  But that is not what our critics mean.  It’s not about keeping our views about conservatives and liberals and other parties a secret from our congregations, it’s about not disturbing the apple cart, not questioning the system, not pushing people to think about poverty or the environment or racism or reconciliation.  One person said that I was being political in my support of masks and public health restrictions, caring more about seniors and so-called fear mongering fake news than I cared about the economy and jobs.

Whenever I hear that, I think about Palm Sunday.  Jesus rode in on a donkey to crowds of cheering people desperate for signs of hope.  This year, I was struck by how he was living according to the anacronym we have been exploring: PIE – public, intentional and explicit.

Riding down the street while crowds cry out for help, that’s pretty public.  Hosanna means ‘save us’ and it is the cry of a desperate people that have felt oppressed for far too long.  “Save us from our feelings of helplessness, save us from our fears of financial ruin and starvation, save us from our anxieties around whether or not we will be able to put food on the table, save us from being bullied and pushed around by roman soldiers and tax collectors.”  Both Jesus and the people are being very public.

Then there’s the intentional part of what Jesus did.  As Robbie pointed out, people didn’t just go around grabbing each other’s donkeys, especially young ones that had never been ridden before.  This doesn’t sound like a snatch and grab, but possibly something Jesus had arranged ahead of time.  It sounds like he knew where the colt was and instructed his disciples in the appropriate response once they were questioned.  Then he rode it down the street where he knew he would be seen and heard by everyone.  He was intentional about when, too, as people had gathered for a festival and had cut branches before they had come.  He knew they would be there, and timed it accordingly.

Lastly, the explicit part.  Jesus was reminding people of all the royal parades and references to scripture and history of other times kings of Jerusalem had ridden into the city for holy events.  In Rome, there would be a parade at the end of every war, with slaves captured and booty raided.  This was something that an authority figure did to remind the citizens of where the power lay.  But Jesus didn’t parade in with soldiers or treasure chests.  He came simply, accompanied by his friends and followers.  He didn’t head to the palace of Herod, king of Israel, to topple his government.  He didn’t storm Pilate’s castle either.  He went straight to the Temple.  He was only interested in challenging that institution and confronting the legalistic attitudes of the people in charge.  I found the last verse especially striking, “he looked around at everything, and then returned back to Bethany”.  It sounds like he was inspecting the place, acting as if he was the principal wandering into a classroom to see how the students and teachers were doing.  Preparing to overturn tables, to teach, and to challenge the Pharisees and Sadducees to theological debates.  

Public, Intentional and Explicit.  Bravo Jesus, for doing all this, but pardon me for saying the obvious, but so what?  I don’t think we’ll be leading parades down main street any time soon, and I’m not planning to ride a colt bareback when I don’t know how to hang on without a rein or saddle, especially one that hasn’t been trained yet!  What’s that got to do with us in today’s culture?

Now more than ever, there is a need for calm, sane Christians to speak up with voices of reason.  All too often stories about pastors and preachers are about the scandals, the arrests for non-compliance, and the grab for headlines.  People with no connection to church may very well think we are a bunch of fringe cultists.  Public voices of reason are vital to getting through our current crisis.  We modern folk can relate to the cries to save us, we too feel oppressed by the current need to do what we can to stay calm in the midst of turbulent times.  We too feel anxious about the variety of opinions about what is the right thing to do to stay healthy.  We hear angry voices calling us names when we try to have a respectful conversation.  We feel sorrow when we hear of tragedy both far away in Rohingya and in our own community like Kelsea Thunder in Cornwall.  We need saving just as much as those first-century folks lining the road and throwing down their coats in front of Jesus to make a pathway fit for a king.  But our faith is helping so many of us stay calm and level-headed.  We need to speak up and let people know when our strength and resilience comes from our faith.

Then there’s intentions, and I remember the old saying, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”, but one of the spiritual practices in our Lenten study this week is called the Examen, where we are asked to spend some time each day thoughtfully reflecting on our actions and conversations and whether they were loving towards ourselves or our neighbors.

And being explicit means for us being very clear and articulate that what we do is to the best of our ability in the service of God and neighbor.  A tall order, but we have God’s grace to guide us, empower us and encourage us as we too shout Hosanna, save us.  And God hears us, supports us, and loves us so much that even Good Friday cannot stop God’s love.  Thanks be to God for this very political way of life we are called to be on.  Amen.