#110: Missio Sine Imperiis (Part 2)

The Messiah Meets The Governor

We are in the seven-week period between Easter and Pentecost. I find this season the most fascinating weeks in the Christian calendar. Actually, for me, the excitement reaches back to the beginning of the Passion Week when Jesus, after a long descent from Galilee to Judea that took several months, finally reached Jerusalem, ready to face the Cross. All four gospels tell of this story as one of Jesus’ triumphal entry into the city (Matthew 21:1-11, Mark 11:1-11, Luke 19:28-44, and John 12:12-19). He got to Jerusalem just a few days before Passover, which means the city was slowly filling up with thousands of Jews from the Diaspora, from the wider Roman Empire and beyond. Before he actually reached Jerusalem, he stopped briefly in Bethphage, a village close to Bethany, to the east of Jerusalem, where he collected a donkey that would carry him into Jerusalem. In doing so, he fulfilled Zechariah’s prophecy, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey" (Zech. 9:9, Mt 21:5).

Once they had the donkey, crowds of followers—possibly Galilean peasants who had come with him down from Galilee—gathered around to celebrate him as he went towards Jerusalem. They waved palm branches, spread their clothes on the road, and sang him a Messianic psalm that expressed their fervent desire for salvation from Rome. Romans had been in charge of Judea for most of the 100 years since Pompey besieged Jerusalem in 63 BCE.

As they marched towards Jerusalem, with Jesus on a donkey, they shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!’ Hosanna in the highest!” (Mt 21:9). They were reciting Psalm 118:25-26 that says, “Save us, we beseech you, O LORD! O LORD, we beseech you, give us success! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD. We bless you from the house of the LORD.” Of course, you will notice that Matthew keeps the Hebrew word, hoshia-na, which has, for us, become “Hosanna”. It simply means “Save us now” (and in the context of Psalm 118, it has a sense of urgency as it explains, “we besech you.”) In a general sense, it is a supplication to God, “Save us now, send the Messiah, please.” In this instance, when Jesus entred Jerusalem, it was also a celebration of him as the Messiah. They were celebrating that the Messiah had come, he would take on Rome and save them.

Traditionally, the Roman Prefect (or Governor) who lived in Caesarea Maritima, 70 miles northwest of Jerusalem, would also make an entry into the city a few days before Easter. In this particular year, Jesus would enter the city from the East while the Governor, Pontius Pilate, came into the city from the West. Typical of Roman rulers, Pilate entered the city riding a war horse, surrounded by a chanting army, making sure all people in the city knew the Romans were in town, and they were in charge. This was especially important because Passover celebrates their deliverance from Egypt and could easily spark an uprising against the Romans. Pilate’s presence in Jerusalem was to do the ceremonial show of power—to remind the people that they were a colony of Rome and, in a way, to wag the imperial finger in the face of the Jews, saying, “Your God will not save you from Rome.”

Holding these two processions together, Jesus’ triumphal entry looks like a joke. How could the Messiah come into Jerusalem riding on a donkey? Not a horse or a chariot. But a lowly donkey, with no army to announce his arrival. He came in with no weapons of war. The people who sang Hosanna were not the powerful Jerusalem type. His arrival in the city caused people to wonder who it was who parodied the powerful entry of the Roman governor. Matthews observes that “the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’” (Mt. 21:10).

This idea of a Messiah without an army makes no sense, but it is really what makes the Gospel of Jesus unique. Jesus was announcing a new kind of king and a new kind of kingdom—one that would eventually gain its victory by humility and sacrifice, not by the might of the sword, the horse, or the legion. His kingdom is one of peace, righteousness, and love. Pilate treated it as a joke. There was nothing kingly about him, yet Pilate gave him a purple robe and called him king of the Jews (which the Jews refused, claiming their only king was Caesar). This ordinariness of the kingdom of Jesus cannot be made to work in the interest of empires and remain what he called us to do. His gospel brings down empires. To incorporate it into the oppressive ideologies of violent empires is to create a false gospel that serves the needs of our emperors, try as we may to masquerade it as the gospel of Christ. Those who believe that their empires will evangelise the world will be surprised that it is actually the marginalised and colonised people of the world who, like the Galileans of old, will make disciples of the nations. They will do this without the money and power that some believe is a must for the work of mission.