Palm/Passion Sunday
2014
There is a short story by Nathaniel
Hawthorn called “The Minister’s Black Veil.” This is of course a familiar story
for most high school English teachers…
Anyway, the story is about a young
minister who one day shows up to a Sunday service with a black veil over his
face. We’re told that he already was generally a quiet, melancholy type of guy,
so this veil (which was a bit odd), only served to accentuate how quiet and
awkward he was.
Eventually, since the minister
refuses to remove the veil, everyone he meets is made quite uncomfortable by
his presence. And even though his kind demeanor never seems to change, people
still wonder and speculate about the strange behavior, and this creepy black
veil.
Incidentally, though, Hawthorn
makes it clear that the minister was extremely effective in his ministry, and
was called on for a number of occasions—even though people were still freaked
out by his veil. In fact, the veil was apparently so disturbing that the
minister actually avoided mirrors, for fear of seeing his reflection…
By the end of the story (sorry for
the spoiler, for all of you potential fans of Nathaniel Hawthorn), the minister
never removes the veil, and is even buried with the thing—and he never explains
why he started wearing it in the first place. However, the lesson we’re left
with is that through the experience of wearing this veil that he was able to
see the veils that all of us wear…(oooh). Actually some real psychological
stuff—and it’s a pretty good lesson to learn.
However, for all of the times I’ve
read the story, whether in high school, my undergrad, or even last night—the
one thing I couldn’t help ask myself was: “Isn’t this guy going a little too
far here?” I mean I get it. I get all the symbolism. I had very good teachers,
and lots of precocious classmates who were more than ready to wax philosophic
about the symbols and everything else… But really, did the guy absolutely have
to alienate himself so that later on, on his deathbed, he could tell everyone
how they shut him and others out?
It’s just that it seems a little
bit self-serving in the end, is what I mean.
Our reading from the Gospel of
Matthew, which sets the stage for celebration of Palm Sunday got me thinking
about this idea a little bit—this idea of perhaps taking things a bit too far…
We’re told that as Jesus is
preparing to enter Jerusalem, he sends his disciples ahead to get a donkey and
its foal. And then, before we know it, Jesus is riding into Jerusalem being
greeted like a king…
Now, if we recall, Jerusalem wasn’t
exactly the best place for Jesus to go. He had already made enemies of the
Pharisees and Scribes. There were a number of rumors floating around about his
authority and the miracles he’d performed. He’s recently told everyone that he
was going to die, and that if others didn’t take up their crosses and follow
him, that they couldn’t be his disciples…
But for now…in today’s reading, we
have him riding into Jerusalem like a king—Jerusalem, where he told everyone he
was going to be killed…talk about self-fulfilling prophecy.
But just like with the minister in
Hawthorn’s story, I wonder if the disciples ever wondered if Jesus was taking
it a bit too far? I think it’s quite possible.
However, when Peter tried once to
bring it up, Jesus rebuked him pretty harshly—that was the whole “get behind me
Satan” conversation. Anyway, it’s likely that whenever anyone might have tried
to broach the subject, Jesus was quick to shut them down.
I suppose, though, if we didn’t
know how the story turned out—if we didn’t know about the resurrection, and
everything that was going happen; we might feel the same way as the disciples.
One of us might even try to talk some sense into Jesus, only be the target of a
firm rebuke.
After all, couldn’t Jesus be satisfied just
hanging out around Judea healing people and teaching. Maybe he could even get
married and settle into a position at the synagogue… It certainly seems a bit
more rational than rattling the cages of the religious elite, and then riding
into Roman occupied Jerusalem like a rival king to Caesar.
Of course, that would be all that
it was if Jesus’ actions were self-serving; and if his death were somehow not
sacrificial…because, of course that’s the difference, and it’s why even now we
have a hard time understanding all of it.
I think what often happens for us
who do know how the story ends; we take a lot of this for granted. I think we
forget what it must have been like to be associated with this man who was so
incredible, yet so bent on being a martyr. A man surrounded by students, and
loved by his disciples—but so alienated from them, because they couldn’t
possibly understand what he was about to do.
But, to me, this is why Holy Week
is so essential to our faith. Because in this week, we’re asked to dwell in
this fear and uncertainty that not only the disciples probably felt—but even
Jesus himself must have felt. So, while it might seem like the Church might be
taking the Passion story, or the events leading up to the Crucifixion a little
too far… Let me remind you that the power of Easter morning was not so easily
achieved.
In fact, without paying attention
to the loss and fear, even living with it for a while, I think it somehow
cheapens the mystery and miracle of Easter. It makes this day, which is the
memorial of all that matters in our faith, a novel blip on our social
calendars.
And, I think by somehow hallowing
that experience, we are more able to live with, and empathize with the pain of
the world. So when we’re called upon to respond to that pain, we will be able
to affirm the beauty, mystery and real power of the resurrection that is
promised to all of us, because even in a symbolic way we have shared in all of
it with Christ.
"Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is
the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!"
No comments:
Post a Comment