Not of this world! - April 12, 2007

            For almost a quarter of a century now, I have prepared for Holy Week. I have prepared more than 100 sermons for the week, written more than 50 dramatic monologues, composed scores of responsive readings, constructed dozens of orders of worship, and read the passion narratives of the gospels faithfully and repeatedly.  With the assistance of New Testament scholars, theologians, and other experts, I have sought to immerse myself in the events of the last week of our Lord’s life. Across the years, I have also read every sermon about our Lord’s suffering and resurrection that I have come across—sermons by famous and not so famous preachers.

            Despite my familiarity with the passion of our Lord, Holy Week always catches me by surprise in some way. Sometimes I feel as if this is the most critical week of my life spiritually. Certainly, in my thoughts and work, I am devoted to Jesus almost exclusively during these days of prayer, preparation, and worship.

            Those folks who have to live with me during these days will tell you that something happens to me during this time. I become more introspective. I feel a certain agitation deep in my soul. During these days, I know I am going to journey through the darkness. This darkness is a reality that I cannot escape. As Holy Week approaches, I am most sensitive to the reality that if this darkness sought to destroy the very son of God, I must be aware of its powers of deception and violence.

            For me to experience the hope and joy of resurrection, I must take seriously the suffering of my Lord and our human suffering. I cannot deny human suffering, for I encounter it almost every single day. I cannot forget the unanswered prayers others and I have prayed. I cannot erase those times when I have felt as if God has forsaken me. For resurrection to have meaning for me, I am compelled each year to focus my attention upon the path Jesus had to take to resurrection morning. I must confront, with all the courage I can muster, the reality that the Son of Man/Son of God died on that Friday afternoon. As his heavenly Father gave him back his life on Easter morning, I, too, must trust God to redeem the suffering others and I have known.

            Every year I am surprised by some encounter I have along the way with Christ through his passion. This year it occurred for me during the dramatic monologue I had written involving Joseph of Arimathea. For the monologue, I created an encounter between Joseph and Gaius, a centurion who was captain of Pilate’s guard. Some years before, Jesus had healed Gaius’ favorite servant, Caley. Joseph hopes to convince the soldier to intercede for Jesus before Pilate. For the frightened believers, only Pilate has the power to undo what Judas and the High Priest have done.

After the Sanhedrin votes to condemn Jesus, Joseph seeks out this captain of Pilate’s guard. It is dangerous for the crowd to see them talking together, so Joseph stands behind the centurion whispering to him. During the monologue, Joseph says, “Gaius, you must help me. You must advise Pilate. Help him find away to let Jesus go.

If you can, get him to release Jesus to me. I will take him back to Galilee.”

            I had written these words, but during the monologue, I was struck by the levels of meaning captured by them. Joseph would receive Jesus, but it would be only after he was dead. Then Pilate would entrust Jesus to him. Galilee is significant. The Risen Christ instructs the women to tell his disciples to meet him in Galilee. When I wrote the words, I was not aware of their possible connection to real events in the life of Jesus. Even now, I am struggling to understand how these sentences came to life.

            As I have reflected on this event, I have pondered how so many passionate people of faith believe it is their job to defend God. In my imagination, Joseph thought he could save Jesus by influencing the Romans who possessed the absolute power. Today we have many people who believe the power of government must be used to save God in the public square. They imagine all kinds of threats from world religious to immigration to secular humanism. Whatever the threat, people attempt to defend God, as if God needs our defense.

            On resurrection morning, Jesus was moving away from Jerusalem to Galilee. He had other things to do. He had no interest in paying a visit to Pilate, Herod, Caiaphas, or any other bit player in the passion drama. In Galilee, he would meet his disciples and send them into the world to do God’s bidding and to live as citizens of the kingdom of God.

            There are times that I am convinced that our attempts to defend God are all a colossal waste of time. While we are defending him, God has moved on to the real needs of humanity and world. With war, starvation, and genocide plaguing God’s human family, I don’t think he pays much attention to the very small things that fill us with such passion to defend him.

            This year Holy Week reminded me that God is about finishing his story of salvation and redemption. The plot may twist and turn in ways that frighten, trouble, even anger me, but God is moving on toward the consummation of all history. While I am fighting cultural battles, Jesus has already gone to Galilee. I guess we should always remember the words of Jesus, “My kingdom is not of this world.” If his kingdom is not of this world, we should resist seizing the powers of this world to defend him. We must desire simply to be his witnesses and to do his bidding. I suspect being obedient to God is much more difficult than defending God against the enemies we identify.jamie