Liberated Imagination

(Micah 4.1-4 and Mark 11.1-11)

A reflection by Dave Shull

Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ

Sammamish, Washington

The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany: February 7, 2010

Every Sunday School classroom I was in growing up had a picture of Jesus surrounded by kids. Sometimes I wished Jesus were my Sunday School teacher.

If Jesus were a Sunday School teacher, I think one morning he’d invite the kids’ parents and their regular school teachers to come to class. And he’d teach them the Harry Chapin song, “Flowers Are Red”. In the song, a boy goes to his first day of school, grabs some crayons, and starts drawing flowers. His teacher looks at what he’s doing, and says,

Flowers are red young man, green leaves are green
There's no need to see flowers any other way than they way they always have been seen.

But the little boy said ... There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun, so many colors in the flower and I see every one.

But his teacher can only imagine what she sees. And insists that he do the same thing. When the boy moves to a new town, his new teacher wants him to paint flowers using all the colors of the morning sun. He tells her there’s no need to see flowers any other way than the way they always have been seen. Which is red and green.

I think Jesus the Sunday School teacher would keep firing up kids’ imaginations because he knows it’s a tragedy when anyone’s imagination dies. He knows liberated imaginations can make the world as beautiful as God dreams for it to be.

Up until last year, I never thought the Palm Sunday story had anything to do with liberated imagination. In sermons and Bible commentaries and everywhere else, I’d always heard this Jesus parade on the donkey with the waving branches described as a “triumphal entry”. And then five days later Jesus was dead. Which seemed odd coming so soon after such a triumphal entry.

But last year I shared with you something about Palm Sunday I’d just learned. This so-called triumphal entry was actually the most imaginative bit of street theater ever to hit Jerusalem. Everybody watching the Jesus parade knew he was dissing the parade that happened every year at Passover. Passover celebrates the liberation of the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt. During Passover the population of Jerusalem quintupled. And the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, needed to keep the peace. All these Jewish pilgrims gathered together to celebrate the liberation of their ancestors from slavery might begin to think that they should try to liberate themselves from Roman occupation. To stop those thoughts from happening, every year at Passover Pontius Pilate put on the truly triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Warhorses, weapons, armor, leather … It was Rome’s subtle way to remind them, We’ve got all the power. You’re smart to be afraid of us. Don’t be foolish enough to imagine silly things like freedom or justice or life without war.

But when our story takes place in the year 30, Jesus decides it’s time to let everyone know there’s more than one kind of parade in Jerusalem (Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week, Harper San Francisco, 2006, pp. 17-18).

Listen for a word from God.

When the disciples and Jesus were nearing Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany on Mount Olives, Jesus sent off two of the disciples with instructions: “Go to the village across from you. As soon as you enter, you’ll find a colt tethered, one that has never yet been ridden. Untie it and bring it. If anyone asks, ‘What are you doing?’ say, ‘The Master needs him, and will return him right away.’”

They went and found a colt tied to a door at the street corner and untied it. Some of those standing there said, “What are you doing untying that colt?” The disciples replied exactly as Jesus had instructed them, and the people let them alone. They brought the colt to Jesus, spread their coats on it, and he mounted.

The people gave him a wonderful welcome, some throwing their coats on the street, others spreading out rushes they had cut in the fields. Running ahead and following after, they were calling out, “Hosanna! Blessed is the One who comes in God’s name! Blessed the coming reign of our ancestor David! Hosanna in highest heaven!”

Jesus entered Jerusalem, then entered the Temple. He looked around, taking it all in. But by now it was late, so he went back to Bethany with the Twelve (from The Message ReMix © 2003 by Eugene Peterson).

Why is Jesus stage this imaginative bit of street theater? He knows he needs to break open everybody’s imaginations. By showing them there’s more than one kind of parade, he wants them to imagine that there also is more than one kind of king, and more than one kind of kingdom. What kind of king is he? What kind of kingdom is he calling people to help build? When the Jews see the Jesus parade, they know the answer.

The Jews who flooded to Jerusalem for Passover know their sacred stories. Seeing Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, they remember what the prophet Zechariah had told people in that city 600 years before:

Shout and cheer …!

Your king is coming! … a humble king riding on a donkey ….

[He says,] “I’ve had it with war – no more chariots …

no more warhorses, no more swords and spears, bows and arrows.”

He will offer peace to the nations, a peaceful rule worldwide …

(Zechariah 9.9-10, The Message, adapted).

Jesus’ anti-triumphal entrance into Jerusalem proclaims:

I am a king with no army, Jesus tells them.

I am a ruler with no warhorses.

I am a sovereign with no desire to keep people afraid.

Can the spectators imagine such a king and kingdom? …

It’s hard to fault them if they can’t. All they’ve known is the violence of war, poverty, and fear. And it’s getting worse. More and more large landowners were forcing peasants off land that had been in their families for generations. Without a piece of land to call their own, without the ability to grow food for their families and have a little extra to sell or trade, they became day laborers, beggars, or slaves. Which is why so many peasants were supporting a rebel movement that wanted to overthrow Rome with violence. A bloody war that defeated Rome was the only way these peasants could imagine having enough, and not always being afraid.

But Jesus’ street theater showed them another way. This king shouts, “I’ve had it with war!” So what does he want these startled and somewhat amused spectators of his parade to imagine?

He wants them to imagine a king and a kingdom like the prophet Micah sings about. He wants them to imagine what we’ve been singing this morning.

And everyone ‘neath their vine and fig tree shall live in peace and unafraid (repeat).

And into ploughshares beat their swords; nations shall learn war no more (repeat)

(Micah 4.1-4).

In Micah’s world … in the world Jesus’ parade creates … everyone has a small piece of land to call their own. So everyone has enough. Because the weapons of war are now used to nourish life, there is no war. Without weapons, with everyone having enough, everyone can live without fear.

Can you imagine a world that looks like we’ve been singing about?

There are days I can imagine it. The hard thing for me is having a clue how to take a step or two closer to making it real. I need imaginative people to teach me how to step out into the world … and playfully show that we are part of Jesus’ kingdom. Where the power of love truly is the strongest force in all creation.

Some of my “imagination” teachers are a group of Christians in Philadelphia who show us what can happen a community’s imagination is captured by Micah’s song. And when they playfully sing it. A member of that community tells the story:

Philadelphia [was] pass[ing] anti-homeless legislation, making it illegal to sleep in the parks, … ask for money, [and] … lie down on the sidewalks …. One of the city’s boldest moves was … bann[ing] all food from … [Love Park, where many homeless people hung out]. Specifically, [the law] reads, “All persons must cease and desist from distributing food.” [T]hey began fining those of us who continued to share food. We started wondering what in the world it meant to love our neighbors as ourselves when [our neighbors] were being jailed for sleeping and eating. As St. Augustine said, “An unjust law is no law at all.” What did it mean to … uphold God’s law of love? Either we had to invite them into our home (which reached capacity), or we wanted to be out with them, in solidarity. So we threw a party in Love Park.

About a hundred of us gathered in Love Park with homeless friends. We worshiped, sang, and prayed. Then we served communion, which was illegal …. Then we continued … “breaking … bread” by serving pizzas. It was a love feast. [T]hen we slept overnight in the park with our homeless friends. We did that week after week … [O]ne night after worship… the police circled the park and arrested all of us …. We were taken to jail in handcuffs [and then released]. But over and over, [we] slept out, and over and over, we were arrested ….

As we stood before the judge, I wore a shirt that read, “Jesus was homeless.” The judge … said, “Hmmm, I didn’t know that …. You guys might stand a chance.”

…. Before we went to court, we read all of the Scriptures where Jesus warns his disciples that they will be dragged before courts and into jails, and they had new meaning for us. [Jesus] warned them not to worry about what to say, so we didn’t …

We faced numerous charges, jail time, thousands of dollars in fines, and hours and hours of community service. [Which was kind of ironic since that’s what we felt like we were doing feeding and making friends with homeless people.]

The judge said to the court, “What is in question here is not whether these folks broke the law; that is quite clear. What is in question is the constitutionality of the law.”

The D[istrict] A[ttorney] shot back, “The constitutionality of the law is not before the court.” And [she] threw her papers on the table.

The judge retorted, “The constitutionality of the law is before every court. [I]f it weren’t for people who broke unjust laws, we wouldn’t have the freedom that we have. We’d still have slavery. That’s the story of this country, from the Boston Tea Party to the civil rights movement. These people are not criminals; they are freedom fighters. I find them all not guilty, on every charge.”

The papers called it a “Revolutionary Court Decision.” And the judge asked us for a “Jesus was homeless” T-shirt (Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, Zondervan, 2006, pp. 232-4).

When a law or policy or tradition tells us we’re not allowed to love our neighbors, what are Christians supposed to do? Throughout history, small groups of Christians have come up with playful, imaginative ways to love them anyway.

When you look around your world, where are we being kept from showing love to our neighbors? How are we being told by governing authorities that the love we want to show, the justice we want to bring about, the fear we want to erase, is unrealistic or impossible?

Jesus’ anti-triumphal entry into Jerusalem and the community serving communion to homeless people in a Philadelphia park are two playful, imaginative ways to show this world we’re following another king … and building another kingdom. Because Micah’s song has found a home in us. And so we have to keep singing it. Amen.