I know It’s been a bit quiet on the reddresstheology front lately, but I will refrain from apologising for my own blog! Not only have I been a little preoccupied with moving across town and opening a new chapter of my life with PhD (and several other things besides), I’ve been doing more writing than reading, and it just hasn’t made it back here yet. Having said that, I will start blogging again about my reading after Easter, so be prepared for some Continental Philosophy!
Meanwhile, I’ve decided I would set myself the discipline of writing each day in Holy Week. Since the Easters of my youth, I have enjoyed popping into the church for 1/2 hour each night of holy week and feeling the build up towards the great Easter Day celebration. In recent years I have focused on stepping into the story and letting the drama of the passion draw out the passion of my own life: triumphant entry into Jerusalem; cruel betrayal; the garden of tears and the trial; death; silence; and the greatest day that ever was.
Holy Week starts today with Palm Sunday, and I am preaching in my new parish community. I felt it as a burden to invite these strangers into an experience of God which is so central and personal to my life. What could I say that would free people to trust themselves to the spiritual process of encountering God. For better or worse, these are the words I came up with…
Come any way you want, but come.
About ten or fifteen years ago, we started to see movies in the cinema that differed from the traditional story-telling of the golden era. We are still most used to movies that tell a story, from the beginning, to the end, in sequence, the priority first and foremost is to entertain us. But there are now movies like The Tree of Life or the much less intense Love Actually, that play with linear time frame or story-line. We get snippets of the same story from different people’s perspectives, like the TV drama The Slap. Or we switch from present to past like in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy – which keeps us in suspense but, if you are like me, can be more than a little confusing! By mixing up the narrative sequence the Director gets to make a point: expect the unexpected, everything is relevant, the web of life is complicated.
Palm Sunday feels a little like this, somewhat more unsettling movie genre to me. We have the Liturgy of the Palms locating us at the beginning of the Passion narrative, on the first of the final days of Jesus in the Holy City of Jerusalem. It’s a joyous occasion it would seem, but then the Scripture readings complicate the picture. We are cast into the future with the gospel to become aware that the elation of today is fleeting. We are thrust into poetic theology by the old testament and epistle to question a great array of questions: who is this man on the donkey? It is a day on which I am not quite sure where to rest my gaze. I feel the foreboding at the very same time that I hear the Hosanna. I feel the pain of my Lord’s rejection even as the crowds welcome him with their cheers. And I feel the questions: who is this man? Who am I when I welcome him?
During his ministry, Jesus consistently defied the expectations of the people: he would not be the Messiah of their making. And yet he received their acclaim, in great defiance of the religious authorities who rejected any notion of Jesus being the Messiah, and the secular authorities who would objected to any whiff of insurrection.
As Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, we enter Holy Week. We enter with mixed emotions, and, if we have been paying attention to the Jesus who walked this earth, we should enter with trepidation. For Jesus consistently defies expectation. Jesus consistently complicates things at the same moment as making them simple. In this week Jesus draws pain and suffering unto himself in contradictory triumph. And Jesus of the gospels shocks all creation, by defying death on Resurrection Day.
This is not the week for simple storytelling. It is the week to sit with every inconsistency and inadequacy of life and faith. Welcome this Jesus into your heart with your Hosannas, but bring your questions, your doubts, your anguish and your confusion. Don’t be tempted to dissolve the story into easy entertainment. Welcome the complexity and complications as you enter into Holy Week, and allow Jesus to surprise you.
If you need them, Kevin Hart, the Australian poet-theologian has provided some words: a prayer to cry out with the chorus of the crowds: Come Christ Come. But a prayer we speak with eyes wide open, alert to the discordances and disturbances of both our life and God’s Passion.
by Kevin Hart, Young Rain (2009)
O come, in any way you want,
In morning sunlight fooling in the leaves
Or in thick bouts of rain that soak my head
Because of what the darkness said
Or come, though far too slowly for my eye to see,
Like a dark hair that fades to gray
Come with the wind that wraps my house
Or winter light that slants upon a page
Because the beast is stirring in its cage
Or come in raw and ragged smells
Of gum leaves dangling down at noon
Or in the undertow of love
When she’s away
Because a night creeps through the day
Come as you used to, years ago,
When I first fell for you
In the deep calm of an autumn morning
Beginning with the cooing of a dove
Because of love, the lightest love
Or if that’s not your way these days
Because of me, because
Of something dead in me,
Come like a jagged knife into my gut
Because your touch will surely cut
Come any way you want