Everyone loves a parade.
From the Rose Bowl in Pasadena to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City …
And small-town extravaganzas with a home-coming queen on a flat-bed trailer pulled by a John Deere fresh off the field.
Marching bands and twirling batons … wads of cotton candy and glo-stick necklaces … cheap trinkets and wonderful memories.
Everyone loves a parade!
On this fateful day in Jerusalem, two parades made their entrance … one from the east, from the Mt. of Olives, a Rabbi from Galilee coming into the city on a donkey - as spelled out in the Scriptures – Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, you king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey [Zechariah 9:9].
A beast of burden, quiet and faithful, a farm animal.
When the kings came to Jerusalem, they rode donkeys.
As if to say:
This isn’t about power.
This isn’t about war.
The king is king for the sake of humility.
The king is king for the purpose of peace.
Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of hosts [Zechariah 4:6].
Did Israel’s kings always live up to such lowly images?
Did Israel’s kings and queens pursue peace and humility?
On this day in Jerusalem, in the spring of the year 30, the week before Passover, there came a man riding on a donkey.
Rabbi Jesus … and his disciples were shouting.
Some folks saw what was happening and spread their cloaks on the ground to welcome him … Who knows, he might be important.
Other stories tell of palm branches being waved – a salute to royalty.
Is this some future king for Israel?
How the people longed for a new day of national glory.
When the nation would once again be sovereign.
With a king and his armies to rid us of our enemies.
When Jesus died at the end of the week, affixed to his cross was a simple sign from Pilate: The King of the Jews.
Because Pilate thought Jesus was the king of the Jews?
Far from it.
Pilate and the Roman authorities were mocking him.
They dressed him in robes of purple and plaited a crown of thorns for him.
They sent a message to the people with the first nail – this is what happens to anyone who threatens Rome… we’re in change, and Caesar is king, and we have no patience for rabble rousers.
But Rome does what Rome does in partnership … a coalition of forces … Rome and the Temple … politicians and religious leaders.
Jerusalem’s temple elite enjoyed a favorable status … don’t get me wrong; they really didn’t like Rome, but they knew what side their bread was buttered on.
Think of Parisians who collaborated during WW 2 – politicians and church leaders signed on with the Nazis; they may not have liked the Nazis, but they knew where the power was.
Jerusalem’s temple officials had an agreement with Rome – We’ll keep the people quiet, and you preserve our power.
So, what was the very first thing Jesus did after arriving in Jerusalem?
Remember?
That’s right … he went to the temple and made a quite a fuss …
Drove out the money-changers and folks selling souvenirs.
And Jesus says to them, It is written,
‘My house shall be a house of prayer;
but you have made it a den of robbers.
I can imagine the response of the temple leaders:
Yikes, there he goes again, quoting the Bible.
Turning it upside down.
Telling us we’ve got it wrong.
How can we have it wrong?
Look at this place, this temple; it’s beautiful.
Look at Jerusalem - thousands of Passover pilgrims, spending money, filling our inns and buying our trinkets, what’s wrong with that?
St. Peter’s Square jammed with the faithful.
Churches filled on Easter Sunday.
Hey, we all have to make a living, don’t we?
What’s the big deal, Jesus?
Why are you such a problem?
Our Roman overseers are going to get nervous.
Be quiet.
Hush up.
Stop it.
Let well enough along.
Quit talking about the Bible so much.
In Jerusalem that day, there was alternative parade.
Coming in from the west.
Pilate’s parade.
Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Idumea, Judea and Samaria.
Leading a column of imperial cavalry on restless horses trained for war, followed by seasoned foot-soldiers, armed to the teeth.
Think of Moscow’s May Day Parade, soldiers, tanks and mobile missile launchers.
Or a flight of F-16s roaring over a speedway after the National Anthem; the crowd erupts in a great cry.
Pilate’s parade.
From Caesarea Maritima, “Caesarea on the Sea” – a city devoted to Ceaser – 60 miles to the west, a port city on the Mediterranean.
Think Malibu, or Newport Beach!
And where was Jerusalem?
In the mountains to the east – think Big Bear.
Pilate enjoyed his Malibu, who wouldn’t?
But when festival time came, Pilate made the journey to the mountains of Jerusalem, a show for force, just to be sure folks knew the lay of the land and didn’t get any dumb ideas.
Here’s how Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg describe Pilate’s parade in their excellent book, The Last Week:
A visual panoply of imperial power: cavalry on horses, foot soldiers, leather armor, helmets, weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold. Sounds: the marching of feet, the creaking of leather, the clinking of bridles, the beating of drums. The swirling of dust [p.3].
We still have the two parades, don’t we?
Jesus and Pilate.
Maybe some day, there will be no east or west.
Maybe some day, all shall be one in Christ.
But for now, Pilate and his horses, and Jesus and his donkey - still ride in to our lives from opposite directions.
A week later, Pilate and the temple officials flex their muscles.
Jesus dies on Calvary,
A trouble-maker, they called him.
Two parades that day.
Be mindful:
Pilate’s parade catches the eye.
That day, I might have joined Pilate’s parade.
But it’s Jesus who tells us the truth. Amen and Amen!
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