Nancy E. Petty

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

April 1, 2007 – Palm Sunday

Text: Luke 19:28-40

East or West: Which procession are we in?

I did not grow up marching for or against events happening in the world. Shelby was not considered a hub of political activity, at least not in the 1970’s and 80’s so I really didn’t have much opportunity. I do, however, remember on one occasion hearing about a Ku Klux Klan rally and convincing several of my friends to join me in riding past it just to see what such an event looked like. The scene was so scary-looking that we barely slowed down as we passed. That was the extent of my participation in rallies, marches and political processions. That is until my second year of seminary. That year, several of my classmates began a discussion on how we might celebrate and honor the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. We decided that we would organize a silent march in the town of Wake Forest—the home of Southeastern Seminary where we were studying for ministry. Our plan was simple. We would make signs proclaiming the message of God’s love for all people and the rights of all people, regardless of race, and process or march down main street. We spent the next several evenings together making our signs. The sign I carried had a simple message: Jesus loves the little children of the world—red, yellow, black and white. (Remember I was new at all this.) As silly as it may sound, I can still remember how anxious I felt at marching in a procession, carrying a sign displaying a personal belief I held. It was new and odd to me. But I was committed and I believed in the message I was proclaiming. It felt like the right thing to do.

What I didn’t realized, and it’s still unclear to me if any of my classmates knew it, was that the Ku Klux Klan had also planned a procession or march for the same day—Martin Luther King holiday—in the same town—the town of Wake Forest. Their march was far more planned and organized than ours. It was actually more like a parade. Compared to the twenty or so of us seminary students, their parade had what seemed like hundreds of supporters. People dressed in white robes and hoods sat on the back of convertible cars with loud megaphones and shouted their message of white dominance and privilege; of power and exclusion. They threw candy to the kids standing along the road and passed out pamphlets promoting their message to any willing adult ready to receive it. Quickly, my nervousness turned into fear. There was a part of me that wanted to lower my sign and find a short cut back to campus. But, you guessed it, I was committed and so I processed on. I had never before in my life been so relieved for something to be over and to be back in my apartment, safe. In the days that followed, I reflected on that event in my mind. I wanted to understand my response—to work through the fear I had felt, to know why I held the beliefs I did, and to try and understand the workings of the world in which I lived. Two processions entered the town of Wake Forest on that January day in the year 1987 and I was in one of them.

Thousand of years earlier, two processions entered Jerusalem on a spring day—in the year 30. The event was the beginning week of Passover, the most sacred week of the Jewish year. We are familiar with one of the processions because throughout the centuries the church has celebrated it and marked it as the first day of the holiest week of the Christian year—Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. On this Sunday Christians reenact the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. We process into our worship waving palms, proclaiming the message, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” and singing our “hosannas” just as we have done this morning. We read the story of how Jesus, a peasant boy from Nazareth, comes from the east riding a donkey down the Mount of Olives into the holy city, cheered by his followers. His message was about the kingdom of God, and like him, his followers came from the peasant class.

But there was also another procession that day. While this peasant procession was taking place on the east side of Jerusalem there was another one taking place on the opposite side of the city, the west side of Jerusalem. You probably haven’t heard about the west side procession—a bigger, better organized and planned procession. Church tradition and church history haven’t

spent a whole lot of time telling that story. I have my guesses for why that is but I will save them for later. First, let me tell you about it.

It was a processional of grand proportions suited for none other than the Roman governor of Judea and Samaria, Emperor Pontius Pilate. Entering Jerusalem at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers, Pilate’s entry into the city proclaimed the power of the empire. It was 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—think the United States military in Iraq. The sounds of the marching of feet, the creaking of leather, the clinking of bridles, and the beating of drums announced wealth, power and privilege. The dust swirled as the procession entered town. The streets were lined with the eyes of the silent onlookers, some curious, some awed, some resentful. This west side procession into the holy city was a well-planned and well-organized demonstration of both Roman imperial power and Roman imperial theology. According to Roman imperial theology, the emperor was not simply the ruler of Rome, but the Son of God. This theology began with the greatest of the emperors, Augustus. For Rome’s Jewish population, Pilate’s procession embodied not only a rival social order, but also a rival theology. So, while it was standard for the Roman governors of Judea to be in Jerusalem for the major Jewish festivals, it was clear that their presence was not out of reverence for the religious devotion of their Jewish citizens, but to be in the city in case there was trouble. The governor knew that there often was, especially at Passover, a festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from an earlier empire. So, the mission of the troops with Pilate was to reinforce the Roman garrison permanently stationed in the city and to reinforce the rule of the Roman Empire. In plain English, Pilate shows up in the holy city with his mighty army just in case the people partied a little too much, remembered their time of freedom and liberation and forgot who was in charge now.

Jesus knew of this imperial procession. Like all Jews, he had grown up hearing about it—maybe even experienced it. So Jesus plans his own “counterprocession.” “As Jesus approaches the city from the east at the end of the journey from Galilee, he tells two of his disciples to go to the next village and get him a colt they will find there, one that has never been ridden, this is, a young one. They do so, and Jesus rides the colt down the Mount of Olives to the city surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic followers and sympathizers, who spread their cloaks and leafy branches on the road, and shout, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!’…The meaning of the demonstration is clear, for it uses symbolism from the prophet Zechariah in the Jewish Bible. According to Zechariah, a king would be coming to Jerusalem ‘humble, and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey’. The rest of the Zechariah passage details what kind of king he will be:

He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war-horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations.

This king, riding on a donkey, will banish war from the land—no more chariots, war-horses, or bows. Commanding peace to the nations, he will be a king of peace. Jesus’ procession deliberately countered what was happening on the other side of the city. Pilate’s procession embodied the power, glory, and violence of the empire that ruled the world. Jesus’ procession embodied an alternative vision, the kingdom of God.” (Borg)

Two processions entered Jerusalem—one a peasant procession and one an imperial procession. One coming from the west—representing a world of dominance, power and wealth; and the other coming from the east—representing an alternative vision of compassion and love, of justice and mercy, of freedom and equality.

It is interesting to me that Western thought and culture has continued to symbolize dominance, power, violence, wealth and independence. And Eastern thought and culture has more closely embodied compassion, mercy, peace and interdependence. Listen to these differences between Eastern thought and culture and Western thought and culture.

In the west, we live in space; in the east, people live in time. In the west, we value activity; the east values rest. The west places emphasis on being assertive; the east honors passivity. In the west we seek change; eastern thought accepts what is. In the west, we live with nature; in the east there is respect to live in nature. The west prides itself on freedom of speech; the east, freedom of silence. The west, love is vocal; eastern thought, love is mute. In the west, we focus on getting more; eastern culture values learning to do with less. In the west, we cherish the vitality of youth and eastern thought cherishes the wisdom of years. You get the picture. The direction from which you come makes a difference in how you live your life.

In the year 1987, two processions entered the town of Wake Forest. And people in that town chose which procession they wanted to be in. In the year 30, two processions entered Jerusalem. The same question, the same alternative, faces those of us who would be faithful to Jesus today. Which procession are we in? Which procession do we want to be in? This is the question of Palm Sunday and of the week that is about to unfold. Will you be arriving from the west with Pontius Pilate or from the east with a peasant from Nazareth named Jesus?