Tale of Two Parades
a sermon based on Mark 11:1-11
by Rev. Cindy Weber

(with help from The Last Week by Marcus Borg & John Dominic Crossan)

If you would have been in Jerusalem that day, chances are that you would have seen a darn good parade. I’m not talking about the one that we read about in scriptures. No, I’m talking the other one. The one that was staged by the Roman Empire, coming in from the west, with the Roman governor Pontius Pilate there at the head. The sight of his horse alone would have

made your heart stop—its coat as shiny as the armor on its back. Followed by row upon row upon row of Roman soldiers, some on horses, some on foot, some in sleek chariots, fierce eyes half-hidden by military finery and feathered helmets. Enough gold and red and purple for a lifetime. The rhythm of tromping feet, the clanging of metal upon metal, the snorting of the horses of war. Why, if you’d been there that day, and been Roman, your heart would have soared with pride. “Hail Caesar! Hail Caesar!” you might have cried aloud, swooning a bit at the drama of it all.

If you’d been there that day, and been Jewish, well, you would have felt something else altogether. Fear, most probably. And neck-deep resignation.

Because, of course, fear and resignation was what they intended for you to feel. That’s why they staged such a show every year at Passover. Passover—the Jewish remembrance of another oppressive, foot-on-your-neck empire, the Jewish remembrance of God’s liberation from another empire. You might say that the terror alert was at a bright red SEVERE every year at that time, what with the Jews coming in from who knows where. That’s why they sent in Pilate and his troops, to reinforce the Roman garrison that was permanently stationed there. Not that the Jewish people needed much of a reminder. Last time the Jewish people revolted, Roman soldiers were brought in from as far away as Syria to quell the revolt. They burned the town of Sepphoris to the ground, just four miles away from Nazareth, selling many of its inhabitants into slavery, and they crucified en masse 2,000 of the Jews who had defended Jerusalem.

So you might say that the Jewish people knew their place. Even in this time of liberation celebration, they knew their place. And in case they didn’t, this imperial parade served to remind them.

Not all of the Jews would have felt such fear, however. Some of them, in fact, would have felt relief at such display of power. For there were in the city of Jerusalem many collaborators: Jews who had made their peace with the ruling empire, found their place, found their price, you might say. When Rome would invade and conquer a country, their traditional practice was to appoint local folks to rule on Rome’s behalf. Rome preferred and trusted the wealthy, who would readily collaborate in order to save their wealth and position. As long as they were loyal to Rome and maintained order, oh, and collected enough money to pay an annual tribute to Rome, the Romans gave them a relatively free hand in their rule of their own population.

In this particular case, after Rome took over the Jewish homeland, there were power struggles among the wealthy families that had been left to rule, and so Rome appointed Herod, known as Herod the Great. He ruled for 33 years, and during that time, appointed a number of high priests, who, by the way, were according to Jewish Law supposed to rule for life. In this case, they didn’t. Herod killed off many of the aristocratic families in order to secure his own position and to secure their wealth. He didn’t trust his subjects, either, say Borg and Crossan, and “placed them under surveillance,” which might sound a little bit familiar in these days of heightened security.

After Herod died, the Roman Empire divided his realm into three parts, ruled by three of his sons. At the time of Jesus, however, the governor of the region, Pontius Pilate, had taken over the Herodian rule, and assigned the local job, remember, all they had to do was to be loyal to Rome, to maintain order, and to collect enough money to keep Rome happy, to the temple and its authorities. So get this: now the temple has become the central economic and political institution in the country, now the temple has become the center of local collaboration with Rome.

When Mark talks about the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes, this is who he’s talking about, he’s talking about the people who ruled at the top of the local system, he’s talking about the people who collaborated with Rome.

You can understand why much of the passion of the Jewish revolutionaries (including Jesus) was not just directed toward the Roman Empire, but also toward the Jewish collaborators. Which is why in a revolt that broke out in 66 CE, the first act of the rebels, or Zealots, was to replace the high priest with a new high priest chosen by lot from the peasant class and to burn the records of debt housed in the temple. Because it was the debt of the peasants, the acquisition of their land, that fed and clothed and housed the increasingly wealthy upper class.

So, as we think of that day, we see that the Romans are clearly, obviously, unmistakably in control, the collaborators glad to lend them a hand, and the people fearful, and resigned—there’s nothing that we can do about any of this anyway.

And as we think of that day, the tromp of soldiers’ feet and the clanking of metal and the turning of the chariot wheels and snorting of the horses of war, it seems long ago and far away.

Long ago and far away…And yet, we know that even as I speak, young men and women, soldiers from this empire, are tromping, tromping, tromping off to war. And yet, we know that even as I speak, the mighty wheels of war are turning, turning, turning. That the empire, our empire, is up to its elbows in blood, as the death count in Iraq gets higher and higher and higher, as the poor and mentally ill in our own nation suffer for lack of care, for lack of resources that are being poured into war. That the empire is working around the clock to sell us a bill of goods, that all is well, or that all is not well, depending on how they want us to feel and thus, act, be scared, no, don’t be scared, on what they want us to support, on how they want us to vote. Of course, they know that we’re too sophisticated, most of us, to fall for fancy parades, though some do, and so they parade their displays of power through press conferences, through slick media ads, through campaigns that provoke fear and mistrust of others. So that we as a country are willing to ignore the havoc that we as a nation are wreaking world-wide, and cry out, O keep me safe, United States of America, keep me safe! Hail, USA!

Long ago and far away…Except that we know, too, that collaborators still abound. Indeed, it seems impossible in our culture to not collaborate. Everything is so interconnected. We find that as soon as we resist one thing, that another pops up. Borg and Crossan, in talking about the wealthy collaborators of Jesus’ day, say that they’re not necessarily bad people in terms of individual failing. “The issue is not their individual virtue or wickedness, but the role they played in the domination system. They shaped it, enforced it, and benefited from it.”

I’m thinking about one of the Kentucky legislators who voted against the Affordable Housing Trust Fund a couple of weeks ago. He is a leader in Methodist circles. He spoke with great feeling about the work that Habitat for Humanity does, said he’s been down there to do some work himself, urged everyone to give $100 to Habitat. But refused to vote for the Affordable Housing Trust Fund. In other words, he’ll do charity. But when it comes to a systemic change that will result in millions of dollars every year across the state of Kentucky, well, no, the realtors don’t want me to. He’s not a bad man in terms of individual virtue. He’s a good man in terms of individual virtue. He chairs mission committees and give money to Habitat. And yet he is shaping and enforcing and yes, benefiting from a system that allows the rich to get rich and to poor to become homeless.

We haven’t shaped our domination system, perhaps, and don’t enforce it either, but we sure do benefit by it, some of us. It’s just so hard to not collaborate.

Long ago and far away…Except that we know, too, that the people, most of them, still live in fear to some degree. Scared to walk alone at night. Scared to sit out on their front porch during the day. Scared to get on a plane or a train with someone who looks Middle Eastern. Scared to use that money that they’ve had sitting there in the bank for who knows how long to do something constructive, giving, freeing, loving. Scared to take a stand because what difference will it make anyway?

Yes, the empire is still displaying its mighty power, selling its message, parading intimidation. And still there are the collaborators, those who sell their souls to gain the world. And still there are the people, fearful and resigned.

But if you happened to be on the east side of the city that day, you would have perhaps seen another crowd of people. And look. These people, these Jews, do not seem to be resigned or particularly fearful, even though their message is in direct conflict with the imperial message conveyed on the other side of town. For these people are hollering their hails not to Tiberius Caesar, who is considered by the Romans to be the “son of God,” “lord,” and “savior,” but rather to the peasant Jesus of Nazareth. Hosanna! Hosanna! they cry. These people do not seem to need pomp and circumstance and imperial trappings, but rather are satisfied, gleeful, in fact, with the audacious simplicity of the peasant-king-ridden donkey that symbolizes peace.

These people get what Jesus is saying, that the Way of peace is the only way: even those who were not a part of this staged demonstration would have remembered the words of the prophet Zechariah, that a king would be coming to Jerusalem, humble and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey…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. These people have made their choice: the realm of God over the realm of Caesar. These people have made their choice: the ways of God over the ways of empire. These people have made their choice: their adoration for the peasant Jesus is heartfelt, for-life. These people have made their choice: they will not live in fear.

These people do not fully understand, anymore than we do, what it will mean to follow after this One who comes in the name of Peace. But you can see from looking at them that they’ve chosen their parade, their path, their way. Even as have we. Resistance to empire. Allegiance to God. So come, let us follow.