Episodes
Monday Mar 26, 2018
Sacred Resistance
Monday Mar 26, 2018
Monday Mar 26, 2018
Sacred Resistance
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, March 25, 2018, Palm Sunday.
Text: Mark 11:1-11
It seems like a day that’s all about dramatic gestures. A charged political march, an impending face-off with the ruling administration, dramatic symbols—donkey, palm branches, chanting crowds— carrying the message and the hope. But it occurs to me that driving this scene we commemorate on Palm Sunday is something very simple: a commitment to do the right thing. The grand gesture is only necessary because those with the power and influence won’t do the right thing. The right thing takes so many forms—from legislation that shapes communal life for millions of people to small, everyday acts of kindness. But, as novelist Laura McBride writes, “It all matters.” She shares that little things like someone who “pays at the unattended lot…acknowledges help…wipes the counter…tips the maid…accepts the consequences…lends a hand…goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying…removes the splinter, wipes the tear… touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”[i]
In the face of so much fear, violence, chaos, injustice, and uncertainty in our lives and world, I’ve observed folks over the past year or so more intentionally naming the power of simple acts of intentional care and commitment, those things that often get taken for granted. Choosing to do the right thing, the generous thing, the thoughtful thing, the kind thing…choosing to do the loving and just thing with and for others, no matter whether the gesture is large or quite small—this, in our age of slander and spin and selfishness is sacred resistance. To see otherwise unacknowledged beauty, to notice what is truly worth living and dying for, this is sacred resistance.
That is what Jesus is doing as he rides into Jerusalem. The beauty and suffering of the poor and oppressed weigh heavily on his mind and heart. His whole life has been spent seeing, noticing, caring, healing, touching, encouraging those with their backs against the wall, those with others’ boot upon their necks, those simply trying to survive. I imagine that Jesus could tell story after story of his encounters—the look on the face of Simon’s mother-in-law when the fever left her (Mk 1:30), the joy of the leprous man restored to health and who found his voice (Mk 1:42), the energy in the house when the one who’d been lowered in through the roof got up and walked out through the front door (Mk 2:12), that dinner party with Levi and his tax collecting buddies (Mk 2:15), the bleeding woman’s desperate faith that became part of her healing (Mk 5:34), the determined sass of the Syrophoenician woman who was willing to talk back and teach Jesus something for the sake of her child (Mk 7:28), the man who lived in the tombs whose transformation changed not only him but the entire community, Jairus and his daughter, Bartimaeus, the children brought to Jesus for blessing, the faces of the crowds who pressed upon him everywhere he went, hungering and thirsting for healing, for hope, for bread, for someone to see them and to extend any sign of encouragement.
These are the faces, names, and experiences that Jesus carries into Jerusalem on that day so long ago …beautiful and tragic stories of God’s beloved ones…those forgotten on the margins of society and those caught in the snares of privilege, pride, and power. Jesus had the eyes to see, the ears to hear, the heart to understand the realities of this world that crush hope and leave people in desperate situations, to have compassion for those who respond to desperation by doing harm to themselves and others and for those who at least try to be just and kind even when no one is watching. Jesus is determined to do the right thing by them all.
And the creature who carries Jesus into Jerusalem is no accident. A humble king riding the foal of a donkey is not only the fulfillment of a prophecy from Zechariah (9:9), it is a sign of solidarity with the simple, with the poor, with those who bear the burdens that make life possible for others. The donkey is, after all, a simple creature, often called a beast of burden. It is clear from the text that Jesus planned how he would enter the city; I imagine that after the bystanders were told what was happening, word of mouth started to spread and the grassroots organizing kicked in to plan the march. The stuff of this march was what folks could bring from home…cloaks and cut branches…simple things of the people, by the people, and for the people…
Historical studies suggest that another march was taking place on the other side of Jerusalem on the day Jesus arrived. A carefully planned, well-funded military parade, complete with pomp and circumstance, banners flying and shining armor, mounted golden eagles and weapons glinting in the sun.[ii] No donkey here, but rather mighty warhorses streaming in procession. According to scholars, “Pilate’s military procession was a demonstration of both Roman imperial power and Roman imperial theology…it was the standard practice of the Roman governors of Judea to be in Jerusalem for the major Jewish festivals. They did so not out of empathetic reverence for the religious devotion of their Jewish subjects, but to be in the city in case there was trouble. There often was, especially at Passover, a festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from an earlier empire.”[iii]
If we think that empire exists only in the texts of the Bible, the annals of ancient history, the mind of George Lucas, or the drama of Lucious and Cookie Lyon, we are not paying attention. Empire may change faces over the centuries, but its contours remain consistent:
- political oppression (ordinary people are manipulated and suppressed with little or no voice in shaping society)
- economic exploitation (systems and policies keep the wealth flowing to the wealthy)
- religious legitimation (religious leaders assert that the status quo reflects the will of God)[iv]
When voting is suppressed and propaganda goes unchecked, there is political oppression; when legislation favors the rich and money buys votes there is economic exploitation; when religious leaders hypocritically support people and policies that sanction cruelty and oppression there is religious legitimation.
I have lived all 48 years of my life in this country I love, a country that against all its best aspirations has been consistently if not increasingly imperial. This is not a politically partisan statement. Some leaders across disciplines and industries and parties have tried to resist and reform. Not all folks with privilege, wealth, and power are all intentionally oppressive and exploitative. My assertion is that the overarching dynamics, values, and systems that have evolved through human choices across time and have created in our day—as of old—the need for a face-off with the ruling, privileged classes. So we see the peaceful protest vs. the militarized show of force; the traumatized children vs. the radicalized gun lobby; we see Emma González bearing the burden of that trauma, standing before the whole world for 6 minutes of silence as if to say with the biblical prophet, “Look upon the one whom they have pierced” (Zech. 12:10, Jn 19:37); we see T.C. Morrow faithfully walking forward year after year and presenting her life and ministry to a church that continues to say “no”…we see the already iconic image of Ieshia Evans in Baton Rouge in the summer of 2016, calmly and proudly standing before a line of police in riot gear, her long dress gently blowing, her feet firmly planted, as two officers urgently approach as if afraid. Across the ages, in this land and around the world, in one way or another, we see metaphorically the humble, burden-bearing donkey facing up to the powerful warhorse… We see the continued struggle between God’s kin-dom and earthly empire…
And out amid and beyond the crowds swarming at the dramatic events, we see those who are acting with kindness and generosity, who are doing the tasks that are literally “thankless,” who are being patient and present in the midst of flared passions and the misbehavior resulting from despair… If we are paying attention, we will see those unnamed, unsung public servants laboring in government and law enforcement who are trying to do the right thing; we’ll see teachers, school counselors and social workers trying to close the gaps of need, we’ll see journalists who keep at it even as others seek to discredit them, we’ll notice the ones who can’t turn out for the big, dramatic events because they can’t afford to take off work, the ones who bear the burdens of the tasks that make life bearable: trash collectors and those who clean the bathrooms (and all those port-a-potties!), food harvesters, packagers, and preparers, nurses and doctors and hospice staff, help desk staff and administrative assistants, and on and on it goes.
The dramatic face-off captured in iconic photos and unsung service by unnamed people are both sacred resistance insofar as those engaged seek to embody the way of God’s kin-dom. That is our call—to stand for God’s way in the face of all that is not God’s way… To do that when others are looking and when no one but God sees. We are called to see who and what is worth caring about, who and what is worth risking it all for.
That’s what Jesus does for us. Jesus has been #saying her name, his name, your name and mine forever. Jesus, long ago and today, sees the faces of all the children—those living and dead—and knows their story.
Today may seem like a day of dramatic gestures, but let’s be clear about what’s really going on. Jesus doesn’t march into Jerusalem to call attention to himself or for the videos of the march to go viral. Jesus rides into Jerusalem to say to those in power, “See Jairus’ daughter. See Bartimaeus. See Jaelynn Willey and Nikolas Cruz, see Stephon Clark and his two young children. See the victims of gun violence in Newtown and the surviving students and families who carry scars. The victims of gun violence in Parkland and the survivors who carry scars. See the families being ripped apart by inhumane deportation policies, those who are on the edge of losing their homes because they can’t find enough work, those who are spiraling into depression and addiction…” Jesus rides into Jerusalem to challenge the violent ways of empire that leave beloved children vulnerable to trauma and starvation, that steal dignity and hope from those on the margins, that destroy God’s creation for economic gain; to challenge the forces of empire that think they can overpower or outspend the love and mercy of God. Jesus came to remind those in places of religious influence to love God and to love their neighbor as themselves.
Why does it seem radical to simply do the right thing? Because the way of God’s kin-dom flies in the face of what gets sold to us as “just the way it is.” Sacred resistance is what Jesus embodied on this day all those years ago and sacred resistance is what is needed for the living of all our days. It doesn’t mean you have to do anything dramatic. It only means that you have to take seriously your intention to follow Jesus who embodies the wild notion that kindness and care and tenderness and justice and friendship and solidarity and love are the things matter most of all.
[i] Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise, this excerpt was shared on FaceBook by a friend.
[ii][ii] Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week: A Day-by-Day Account of Jesus’s Final Week in Jerusalem (HarperSanFrancisco, 2006), 3.
[iii] Ibid., 2.
[iv] Ibid., 7-8.
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