A Walk through Holy Week

PALM SUNDAY

All is well; all manner of things are well—the crowds rejoice at the arrival in Jerusalem of the Savior. They rejoice because whatever their specific thought was about what salvation meant, they saw it in this itinerant rabbi from Nazareth. Simon the Zealot (and most likely, Judas) and his ilk saw the dreamed of confrontation boiling up—soon the streets would run with Roman blood, soon the collaborators would get theirs—Jesus was going to declare the revolution—why else was he going to Jerusalem? Matthew and his peers, following the theology of his eventual Gospel, saw the moment coming when Jesus would announce the restoration and realization of Israel as the Kingdom of God—he would take up residence in the Temple and holiness would flow like the river Ezekiel saw so many hundreds of years earlier. The crowds saw their moment—Jesus was an advocate for the Least of These—their time was coming. The crowds saw a wonderworker about to launch his World Tour. The crowds saw a man of the people ascending to his power. They shouted, they danced, they sang, they cut branches from the trees, they stripped off their clothes so he would not touch the earth—it was a day when everybody saw glory.

FIG MONDAY

Jesus throws his first wrench in the works. He cleanses the Temple. Now, for Simon, the crowds, and maybe even Matthew, this moment is still on course. He is directly challenging the status quo. He is embarrassing the Temple authorities who had a lock-grip on religious practice, even refusing to use common currency and communicating to the regular people that they did not measure up. Good. Jesus throws the buggers out! The Council takes note and begin conniving. But some wonder at the violence of the moment. Is Jesus about to launch a holy war? What does it mean?

And it gets weirder. 

On the way out, Jesus curses a fig tree for not having any figs. It wasn’t fig season. Not even close. What gives? This is odd. Collective eyebrows rise.

ANOINTING TUESDAY

At dinner, a woman comes in from the street and starts weeping on the floor, bathing Jesus’ feet in her tears, and then anointing him with an outrageous fortune of oil. Mutters fly around the dinner table. What a waste! This could be used to help the poor—even poor, little us, complain the disciples. Simon and Judas may have just seen the kitty to fund the revolution pouring over Jesus’ head in oil. Matthew is mortified—a holy man allows a woman—an unclean woman—to touch him, to wash him, to be so….so…intimate! Egads!  Assumptions shatter. Presumptions fall to pieces. Jesus seems to have to nothing to do with the pre-approved game plan. What is going on? What does it mean? The cheers are long gone, lost in a puzzled silence. 

SPY WEDNESDAY

Judas decides to force the issue—let’s just see what is happening; let’s see where Jesus’ cookie crumbles—so off he goes to the Temple, seeking out the powers that be. A direct confrontation will be just the spark to get things going. Jesus will act. The details matter little to Judas—just get the spark lit. Thirty pieces of silver? Why not? I will kiss him, then jump (and watch as my people rise up and smack you down!). Jesus just needs a little help; that’s all…

MAUNDY THURSDAY

Another dinner party where nothing goes according to plan. This was supposed to a Seder meal—the Passover—but Jesus just serves bread and wine. This meal is more of a fast. And he talks. He talks and talks and talks. The disciples are all about to fall asleep. They perk up when he tells them one is about to betray him (exit Judas, stage left) and another will deny him and all the rest will run away (not us, not us, not me, nor me). They hear something else, too—he talks about a new commandment—This is my commandment—that you love one another—love one another as I have loved you. Where are the battle hymns? Where is the new kingdom? Heck, where are the swords?

Jesus heads from the house to the garden to pray. The few he takes with him can’t stay awake. They leave him utterly alone. Already, they fail to keep the commandment. And it just gets worse—Judas returns with a host of thugs—this is the battle! But, wait—Jesus quits before it even begins. Nothing happens. Nothing. Jesus gets carted off to the powers that be. 

Failure.

Sure enough, they all slink away…

Peter denies knowing him—once, twice, three times…

GOOD FRIDAY

Two mock trials, an argument about truth, guilt, and being a savior, a flogging, and then the worst of all—Rome flexes its muscle. No knucklehead from Nazareth is going to embarrass them. Pilate, not quite sure about anything that is going on, tries to end it before something really stupid happens, but, no, the crowds wants a death, so Rome in her wisdom, gives them death. The Temple crowd hoots and hollers—this is what happens to charlatans, God bless them, har har har…

Jesus dies a horrible death. One dying with him sees the truth, confesses, and finds hope even in death. 

And that is where we all need to pause.

The cheers are gone, transformed into jeers. All expectations are crushed. Life is as life has always been. Rome wins again. The status quo remains undefeated and still heavyweight champion. 

But one thief found hope. 

Real hope.

Living hope.