“Subversive Hope”

Palm Sunday

March 24, 2024

Hosea Williams of SCLC, left, and John Lewis of Student nonviolent Coordinating Committee leading more than 500 people across Edmund Pettus Bridge from Selma, heading to Montgomery on March 7, 1965. (The Birmingham News file)

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Mark 11:1-11

This is the week we move from ‘Hosanna’ to ‘Crucify Him!’ It’s a roller coaster of emotions and activities. We’ll hear about love and service and watch betrayal happen before our very eyes. We’ll wonder, with Pilate, what it’s all about. We’ll get angry, with the crowds, as one person puts all of our lives in danger. We’ll feel regret, with Peter, at how quickly we turn from being a rock to a stumbling block. We’ll grieve, with Mary, as we watch love die. And…soon enough…we’ll celebrate an empty tomb, even when we can’t understand what it means.

But it all begins today…with a celebration of sorts. As we watch Jesus enter Jerusalem, fulfilling prophecy and leading a parade counter to the one Pilate rides in on the other side of the city, we get our hopes up. This demonstration will surely get the attention of the leaders. How can they deny the people? How can they turn aside and pretend nothing has happened? How can they continue to oppress the people with such a show of unity?

But the attention this parade receives doesn’t go the way the people anticipated. Within a week, the leader will be killed. And all hope will seem lost. And the people will wonder if it was worth it at all. Should they just go back to life as usual? Should they just count their losses and go home? Just let it be. The powers are too big to fight against.

There are two primary elements of subversive acts such as this mock parade. The first element is people power. The impact of the action doesn’t come from money. It doesn’t come from connection. It doesn’t come from bribes or false promises. It comes from the mass of people united in purpose. United in passion. United in hope.

It brings to mind other revolutionary processions and gatherings. On March 7, 1965, 600 mostly African Americans walked from Selma to Montgomery, AL to exercise their constitutional right to vote. While legislation the previous year had given them that right, the practices in Alabama and other states still denied them the opportunity. Inspired by various leaders and their God-given dignity, their worship that Sunday took to the street. United in purpose. United in passion. And united in hope.

Sixty years ago, it was illegal to be gay. Statutes in New York said that “masquerading as a member of the opposite sex was a crime.” It was automatically considered disorderly conduct. Just for being. On June 28, 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in New York City. The people fought back. They fought for their right to exist. They fought for their right to be human. They fought for their God-given dignity. It was called the Stonewall Uprising, and united in purpose, united in passion, and united in hope, the PRIDE movement began.

But we know what happens just a few days from now. No amount of unity or passion or purpose can protect people challenging a system from harm. March 7, 1965 would become known as ‘Bloody Sunday.’ As those 600 people marching from Selma to Montgomery crossed the Edmund Pettis Bridge—a bridge named for the regional grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan—they were met on the other side by state troopers and county posse-men. They were met with clubs and batons and tear gas. They were met with violence and death, beatings and jail.

And even 60 years after the Civil Rights Act was passed, while the Black population makes up 3.5% of the population of Lancaster County, they make up 30% of the county jail population. The movie “Divisible”—noted in the bulletin announcements—outlines the affects of red-lining that still happens today. That’s the denial of services to certain residents of certain areas based on the race or ethnicity of that neighborhood. There’s still so much work to do.

Even after 100,000 people marched on Washington in 1979 for rights for the LGBTQ community, that fight continues, as well. People are killed. Brandon Teena—raped and murdered in 1993 for being trans. Matthew Shepherd—beaten to death in 1998 for being gay. Nex Benedict—beaten and left for dead last month for using the girl’s restroom. Though it is legal for same-gender people to marry, it is virtually impossible in this state to get the care needed for minors who are transgender. Kids across the country are abandoned by parents who refuse to understand or at least support their children. Friendships are lost. And while our congregation is an oasis in an increasingly dangerous landscape, there is still so much work to do.

Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem to the cries of, ‘Hosanna! Save us!’ are just the beginning. Because he knew what anyone pushing against injustice knows. There will always be pushback. There will always be those who don’t want the system to change—who benefit from leaving things the way they are—who fear the possibilities spurred on by hope. And yet, hope is the underpinning of Christianity at its best.

We continue to hope, not because it’s all we have left but because it is a catalyst. Hope brings people together. Hope believes that we can do better. Be better. Hope clings to God’s promise of heaven—not as some distant thing we get after we die but a present reality, hidden but breaking through into this broken world. Hope recognizes that, while we may fall short of our goal, God is always at work; grace is always at work; love is always at work in the people of hope.

So, as Paul so eloquently puts it in his letter to Corinth, we do not lose heart. For we know that the work we do in the Lord will not be in vain. Or as Isaiah states: “My vindicator is at my side. Who would dare accuse me? Let us confront each other! Who are my adversaries? Let them accuse me! It is Exalted YHWH who helps me. Who will judge me guilty?”

Standing up for the oppressed, the vulnerable, the ‘least of these’ is never an easy position to be in. It’s fraught with tension, challenge, and sometimes danger. And yet, led by the resurrected Christ and inspired by the Holy Spirit, even the disciples eventually left the sanctuary of the upper room to teach, lead, and challenge the ways of the world. And it all began with a man on a donkey, riding into Jerusalem.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE