Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
April 1, 2007 Palm Sunday
Luke 19: 29-40
Several years ago, author Philip Hallie, published the book, Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed: The Story of the Village of Le Chambon and How Goodness Happened There. Hallie tells the story of a protestant pastor, Andre Trocme, and his congregation in that village in southern France during the perilous years of Nazi occupation. In spite of the grave danger, they organized to save the lives of Jews by hiding them in secret shelters throughout the village and even in hidden rooms in their own homes. They certainly weren’t the only Christians in supposedly Christian Europe. But what enabled the Christians of Le Chambon to resist when few others did? What gave them the courage to lay their own lives on the line to save Jews they did not even know? Could we have done that?
Theologian, George Hunsinger, suggests three specific virtues that enabled pastor Trocme and his congregation to do what they did.
First, they practiced an ethic of watchfulness. They did not give in to popular hysteria or believe everything they heard. Alert to both the blatant and subtle patterns of Nazi evil and oppression, the people of Le Chambon refused to be taken in by the perverse propaganda of the anti-Semitic press. In fact, Pastor Trocme insisted that good people could not stand by and do nothing when all around them innocent human beings were being persecuted and murdered. To do nothing was to participate in evil. I wonder if I would have been courageous enough, faithful enough, to preach that sermon in those dark times?
Secondly, this small village congregation practiced an ethic of non-compliance. They simply decided not to cooperate with the powers that be. For example, an official of Trocme’s national Reformed Church, came to town and insisted that he and the members of the congregation stop sheltering Jews. This official said that this subversive and illegal activity was endangering the existence, not only of the village, but also of the Protestant church in France. Trocme is reported to have replied, “Do you realize what you are asking? These people, especially the Jews, are in very great danger. If we do not shelter them or help them over the border to Switzerland, they may well die. We cannot stop!”
Third, the congregation practiced an ethic of fidelity and witness to Jesus Christ, an ethic which meant that in his name they were willing to go against all conventional wisdom, all cultural assumptions, all human authority. Pastor and congregation were convinced that they had no choice but to follow Jesus in the same path of nonviolence and compassion that he walked, even if that path led to a cross. And so they made their faithful – and dangerous – witness.
Which brings me to Palm Sunday. John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg have recently published a book, The Last Week, in which they give a day to day account of Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem. (This might be a fascinating adult study next Lent.) They point out that there were likely two processions on that day we know as Palm Sunday. One is familiar: Jesus and his followers entering the city, Jesus riding a beast of burden, the people placing clothes and branches on the road in front of him.
But on the opposite side of the city, there was another procession, a very different one. Roman solders were entering the city, perhaps with Pilate himself, coming up to Jerusalem from the imperial capital of Caesarea on the coast. Imperial cavalry and troops entering Jerusalem to reinforce the Roman garrison for Passover. Above all, Rome demanded order and Passover could be a very disorderly time. The city was filled with pilgrims remembering and celebrating God’s deliverance of Israel from an earlier Egyptian empire. And it was not difficult for them to make the connection between an oppressive empire then and the oppression of Rome now. There had been riots during previous Passovers and Pilate would allow no riots on his watch. Any disruption, any violence, any challenge to imperial authority would be severely and brutally dealt with. Do you begin to get a feel for what was happening that day? Do you feel the tension that was in the air?
Two arrivals, two entrances, two processions, and they couldn’t be more different. Jesus deliberate decision to enter Jerusalem at Passover has put him on a collision course with both empire and with the political and religious collaboration with empire. But why? Why can’t he leave well enough alone? Why must he draw this line in the sand? Why deliberately choose this confrontation he cannot possibly win? Which, of course, are the very same questions we could ask of the good people and pastor of the village of Le Chambon. Why risk a confrontation with the Nazis? Why put your lives on the line for these Jews? Why indeed?
There are many reasons to remember and reflect on the presidential campaign and election that pitted George Bush and Dick Cheney against Al Gore and Joseph Liebermann. Perhaps some of you would just as soon forget that election. But among all the memorable things that were said and that occurred during the election, one thing I find myself returning to is the discussion that centered on Senator Liebermann and his faith. “He is a devout Jew,” some said. “He keeps Kosher and Sabbath. What if we have a national crisis on a Saturday, the Jewish sabbath. What if we had to go to war on a Saturday? Could we count on Liebermann?” These were interesting comments considering what a hard-liner he has been during the debate over the war in Iraq.
But what is also interesting about these comments is that no one said, “George Bush is a Methodist; Al Gore is a Baptist. Don’t these Christians have some funny, even radical ideas about violence, about turning the other cheek and loving our enemies? Can we count on these followers of Jesus to lead our nation if we must strike against some serious foreign and/or terrorist threat?” No one ever suggested that these followers of Jesus might choose a different way from the way of violence, the way of confrontation, the way of Empire.
And that for me is the challenge of Palm Sunday. It is Jesus, in the face of empire and all its worldly power, affirming that there is another way, another story, indeed a whole new world. Palm Sunday…two processions. Jesus on a donkey. Pilate on a war horse. The nonviolence of the Kingdom of God verses the violence of empire. The tolerance of the Kingdom of God verses the intolerance of empire. The openness of the Kingdom of God verses the security obsession of empire. The love of the Kingdom of God versus the fear of empire. Two processions. Two worlds colliding. Which one will it be for us? Certainly the Christians of Le Chambon made their choice.
Last week I mentioned impending grandparenthood for Betty and myself…and all the extra expenses that seems to entail. I have almost finished my sign: ‘Will preach for baby furniture!’ But I return to it today – and I solemnly promise I will not mention it again - because our path to grandparenthood, as our daughter Bethany’s path to parenthood, has not been the average path, the path we might have expected. When Bethany and her partner, Camie, decided they would like to begin a family, they chose Bethany to become pregnant through donor insemination. Her first pregnancy went along quite well for the first trimester, then ended suddenly when the fetus inexplicably died. This one looks like it’s going all the way – a boy, due date May 11th. And, as I said last week, we are very excited. But I haven’t said too much publicly because I am aware this may be a challenging pregnancy for some folks – this same sex couple deciding to have a baby. And I have wanted to be respectful of all who may have some doubts, who may love my family but still have some doubts. In all honestly, I suppose I have had some doubts along the way.
But what has been wonderful and deeply moving is the great number of people in this church who have shared our excitement. Every week now, people ask how things are going. Those of you who are grandparents have been eager to tell me about the joys of being a grandparent. I know it may still be challenging for many of you, and again I want to honor that, but the level of acceptance and love we have felt in this congregation from people of all political and theological points of view…my heart is full.
And it all brings me back to Palm Sunday. Jesus rides into Jerusalem and into our hearts bringing a whole new world with him. He tells us that the world as defined by empire is not the real world. He tells us not to give in to the violence and fear, the intolerance and division, the us-versus-them mentality that empire always promotes. The stories told by empire are false stories; the agenda it is attempting to impose on our lives is a false agenda. There is another way, another world, where everyone is welcome and accepted at the table and where love overcomes fear. Can we dare to imagine such a world? Better yet, like the Christians of Le Chambon, can we dare to embrace such a world and begin to live a new story, a new reality, here and now?
On Palm Sunday Jesus dares to meet the forces of violence and fear with peace and truth and love. Rather than seeking to intimidate or destroy, he meets the powers of the world with disarming compassion. They laugh in his face and brutally crush him in an instant. He is finished. They are rid of him. But are they? Are we? Read the story again. Where is the truth here? Where is reality? Who really holds the key to the future? Empire or Christ?
Jesus rides into Jerusalem, into the heart of empire, looks around, and says, “No more of this…no more of this. We must put our trust elsewhere. We must find true security elsewhere. This isn’t real. But I can show you what is real and what will endure.” Follow me. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord.”