Don Friesen
Years and Years ago I worked in a nickel mine, a job that required me to go underground. I wasn't too excited about being underground, and I wasn't at all reassured when I entered what miners referred to as the cage. A mining cage is like an elevator, only much more crowded and with only a half-door on the front. When the cage left the surface it travelled ten times the speed of the elevator we take down from our ninth-floor apartment, and as you dropped you could watch the rock face rush by, only inches from your nose if you were at the front of the cage! The cage stopped as suddenly as it dropped, and before your heart had caught up with your body, the cage door opened and you'd best step out quickly!
I was somewhat spooked the first few weeks underground, not helped at all by the taunts and stories of old-timers, who told many lies to test your mettle, and to amuse themselves. I had to summon up courage for each day's descent, but found some comfort in committing to memory the way back through the maze of tunnels to the main shaft of the mine, where, if I had to, I could climb a vertical ladder to the surface, even if it meant a 2,000-foot climb! I knew there was a way out if I needed it.
Courage to Set your Face like Flint
No doubt each of us could name things that put fear in our hearts and challenge our courage things that we try to avoid if possible. Some of us don't like being underground; some of us don't like being above ground we don't like flying. Those of us who suffer from phobias have a vivid sense of the kind of fear that requires a lot of courage to face. Some of us are deathly afraid of water. Some of us are claustrophobic. I myself am afraid of heights, and try to avoid situations that turn my legs to rubber and shorten my breath. Sometimes we face an intimidating week at work. We know we have to go to work on Monday, but we also know what will be waiting for us, and we know that it will be, at best unpleasant, but more than likely very nasty.
Our reading from Isaiah portrays a messianic figure that also had reason to be afraid, for he speaks of "...those who struck me, and ...pulled out (my) beard...." He had to endure "insults and spitting" (Isaiah 50:6) mean-spirited images evocative of the crucifixion but, he continues, "The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint...." (50:7) A wonderful phrase I have set my face like flint meaning he has summoned up his courage and will remain firm and resolute, whatever contempt and scorn may be hurled his way. He will not shrink from any kind or degree of suffering necessary to accomplish that for which he was sent. "The Lord God helps me; ... therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near. Who will contend with me? ... Who are my adversaries? Let them confront me. It is the Lord God who helps me...." (50:7-9)
A Challenge to Jesus' Courage
Jesus entered the last week of his life with similar resolve, though initially little courage was required. The week started off with a celebration! Last year I likened Jesus' triumphal entrance to a parade a wonderful parade of all those whom Jesus had healed and whose lives he had touched. The Gospel of Luke tells us that it was quite a sight! There were lots of people. There was a lot of noise, most of it songs of praise and shouts of acclamation: "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!" (Luke 19:38) This was much more than a little sideshow, for the Pharisees were soon asking Jesus to get the crowd to tone it down a little! Actually, they wanted to put a stop to the whole thing (19:39), but Jesus said, "I tell you that if they kept quiet, the very stones in the road would burst out cheering!" (19:40, J.B. Phillips)
It was a parade, alright a grand and glorious parade and in between the children singing, and the donkey braying and palm branches swaying and cloaks flying everywhere, there was a lot of excitement and joy but it was not the only parade that week. There was another parade, later in the week, a parade to the cross a procession really, sombre in tone, and deadly in intent. And it unnerved Jesus. The conflict began already on Sunday when the Pharisees tried to get him to shut down the palms parade. The conflict was heightened on Monday when Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple, lamenting that a house of prayer had been turned into a den of thieves! (Luke 19:45-48, KJV) Luke tells us that the chief priests, scribes, and leaders of the people were already looking for a way to kill Jesus (19:47), but couldn't get to him, "for all the people were spellbound by (Jesus)." (19:40)
On Tuesday Jesus told stories to those coming to the Temple, teaching them about the kingdom of God. As he was doing this his adversaries were looking for a way to shut him down, but Jesus didn't flinch, seeding his stories with odd allusions to leaders who couldn't tell their tassels from their toes!
By Thursday Jesus had to face the reality of betrayal in his own inner circle, senseless competitive bickering among the rest of his disciples, and denial from the one on whom he had once promised to build his church! (Matthew 16:18) The accumulative stress unnerved Jesus, and on Thursday night we see him at his lowest in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying for courage for the road ahead. He told his disciples, "Pray that you may not have to face temptation!" (22:40, J.B. Phillips) He withdrew from them to be by himself, then knelt down and shared his fear and uncertainties with God: "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me....' Then," says Luke, "an angel from heaven appeared to him and gave him strength. In his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down on the ground." (22:42-44)
Summoning courage in prayer, Jesus was able to face what lay before him: the betrayal, arrest, imprisonment, desertion, false trials, denial, condemnation, beatings and sentencing of Friday. In the Good Friday parade there was no donkey bearing Jesus, but Jesus bearing a wooden cross. As he trudged up to the place called Gol'gotha, or The Place of a Skull (Matthew 27:33), as it was known, two thieves were added to this macabre parade. There were soldiers everywhere, women wailing, crowds shouting jeers and taunts. And then the parade ended ended with the sound of nails hammered into wood, and Jesus' final words: "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.' Having said this, he breathed his last." (Luke 23:46)
Not My Will, but Thine, Be Done
Of all the details in the Gospel story of Christ's Passion, I am always most moved by his moments in the Garden of Gethsemane. This is Jesus at his weakest, Jesus at his most vulnerable, the time of least courage and greatest fear. The various Gospel accounts of this moment are unrelenting in their portrayal of his agony. When I read his words a moment ago, however, I left out an important phrase. Jesus prayed, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done." (Luke 22:42) Not my will, but thine, be done." (KJV) Jesus was facing unbelievable suffering, and if God could have found another way Jesus would have welcomed it, but he resolved to obey God's will, whatever the cost.
This week I read an interesting interpretation of the well-known Old Testament story of the parting of the Red Sea. After four centuries of slavery in Egypt the Israelites finally got away, only to be pursued by the powerful Egyptian army. They would have been recaptured had not God parted the Red Sea, allowing them to pass through to safety, for as the last Israelite stepped onto dry land, the waters closed and put a stop to the Egyptian pursuit.
It's a dramatic story, and one indelibly imprinted upon the Jewish mind. If asked to list the five greatest miracles of all time, most of us, says one rabbi (Rabbi Aron Tendler), would include The Parting of The Sea. Of all the miracles recorded in the Torah, it is probably the most famous, and the most theatrical. The setting itself is one of contrast, on the one hand the stark, barren, emptiness of the desert, on the other the watery expanse of the Red Sea, never a welcome sight to the Israelites, who were not a sea-faring people. The players in this drama are another vivid contrast: on the one side the most advanced civilization and powerful army of its time; on the other side, a nation of slaves who for generations had become accustomed to saying, "Yes, Master! Yes, Master!"
The Egyptians tore across the desert in a thundering spectacle of dust and noise, squeezing the Israelites between the proverbial rock and a hard place, without hope of escape or reprieve. Then a fiery cloud of smoke insinuated itself between the two sides, adding to the confusion and disarray.
It's a dramatic story, one that has accrued various embellishments, some rabbis claiming that the miracle of the Red Sea was much more spectacular than what we have been told. One version says that the sea didn't just split into two; it actually divided into twelve separate avenues one for each tribe! And fresh fruit grew from the walls of seawater, providing those passing through with a healthy snack along the way! And God even made the seawater-walls transparent so that each tribe could see the other and not be afraid that they alone had survived!
It's a story, however, that requires no embellishment, for the biblical story of the liberation from Egypt is the prototype of all biblical stories of salvation to come. The interesting aspect of the article I read is that according to rabbis, the miracle of the Red Sea is not the parting of the waters. The miracle of the Red Sea, say the rabbis, is that with a wall of water on each side of him, the first Jew walked through! (Joan Chittister, "The road to Jerusalem is clear," National Catholic Reporter, March 30, 2001) In other words, someone had to take the first step into the parted waters and soggy sea-bed. In the stories of salvation history, God is not the only player. God may be all-powerful and eternally unfailing, but it is not God's fidelity that is in question, the rabbis imply; it is not God's fidelity that is in question, it is our fidelity human fidelity. God can part the waters of that there is no question! But salvation history requires that we respond with some courage and faith. God's faithfulness begs our own faithfulness. God's will requires our obedience.
If, according to rabbinic perspective, the miracle of the Red Sea lay in the obedient response of those who passed through the waters, then we could also talk about the miracle at Gethsemane, for Gethsemane marks the point in this week where the engulfing waters are most threatening, and Jesus' resolute courage most inspiring. That Jerusalem killed prophets, there was no doubt in Jesus' mind. That the authorities would take exception to someone questioning the status quo is not a surprise. That Jesus would be subject to intense grilling and tricky interrogations on their turf, may also not have surprised him. That Jesus would begin to squirm as the walls closed in on him may be unsettling to us, but that he continued his journey God offering no quick exit is the key to understanding the Passion of the Christ.
We Worship an Obedient and Courageous Christ
Our theme for this Palm Sunday, as you can see in our bulletin, is "Worshipping Jesus," but we don't worship Jesus because he rode into town on a donkey. If anything, his donkey entry was a parody of all other grand entrances. That burro wasn't meant to impress anyone! You'd wait a long time before you'd see an Egyptian Pharaoh on a donkey. Hell would have to get quite cold before you'd see a Roman prefect on a donkey.
We worship Jesus, not because he was of royal descent, for his royalty was of quite a different sort. This is a strange kind of king. His steed is a donkey; his sceptre is a palm branch; his crown a circle of thorns! This was not the warrior-king many expected, entering the city on a well-trained war horse with an entourage of well-armed soldiers. This was not a wealthy king covered in jewels and strutting to the strains of pomp and circumstance. This is the Prince of Peace, a humble Messiah, a Donkey-King, himself the beast of burden who came to bear upon his back the sins of this world.
We worship Jesus, not because he was bright and repeatedly got the upper hand when debating with the Pharisees. We worship Jesus, not because of his good deeds, which were really little better than those done by the Pharisees. We worship Jesus, not because he was handsome, for if prophecy is to be believed the Suffering Servant "had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him." (Isaiah 53:2) And we worship Jesus, not because he died, because lots of messiahs people who thought they were the messiah died. Jesus' crucifixion was not unique; thousands of Jews were tortured to death in this barbaric fashion.
We worship Jesus, says the New Testament book of Philippians, because of Jesus' obedience. Christ Jesus, says Philippians, "...though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death even death on a cross. Therefore," says Philippians, "God ...highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name...." (Philippians 2:6-9) Or, as another translation reads, "For this reason" "For this reason God raised him to the highest place above and gave him the name that is greater than any other name. And so, in honour of the name of Jesus all beings in heaven (and) on earth ...will fall on their knees, and all will openly proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." (2:9-11, TEV)
Jesus' humble obedience is the reason he is worthy of our worship, and Philippians says, "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus...." (Philippians 2:5) Just as surely as there was need for courageous obedience at the Red Sea; just as surely as there was need for courageous obedience on Jesus' last week in Jerusalem; so too there is need for it when we stand on the threshold of waters that threaten to engulf us.
This is the week we discover that there is a lot more to following Jesus than just cheering from the sidelines. Jesus' Gethsemane experience was a battle of the soul. A vulnerable king is not everyone's idea of majestic monarchy. It has its own appeal, however, for when this King asks for my obedience, I am inclined to give it to him because I know he has walked this way before me. Just as Jesus in the course of his prayers brought his will into conformity with God's will, so we have our private Gethsemanes to work through and pray over. May God grant us the courage of Jesus, that we too might say, with serenity: "Thy will be done."
All quotations of Scripture, unless otherwise noted, are from the New Revised Standard Version.