First Palm Sunday

Yesterday was my first Palm Sunday with real palms.  I didn't quite know what to do with my little piece of palm, but nobody seemed to mind.  That wasn't the truly different part, however.

The really different part was how the Triumphal Entry passage was approached.

Usually, in Fundamentalism, Palm Sunday was a time to talk about the treacherous people of Israel at the time of Christ.  Oh sure, they may have waved their palms and welcomed Christ into Jerusalem, but they didn't really mean it.  Why, just the next week they were yelling to crucify Him.  How fickle those sinners were! Usually, this was accompanied by some sort of guilt trip about how each of us sitting in the pew would have done the same thing given the chance, and we all humbly and maybe sincerely believed that and felt guilty some more.  I don't remember ever spending much time on the beauty and glory of Christ that engendered such an outspoken response from His people.

Yesterday though, it was approached partly from a historical context - the "king" (Caesar) didn't like anybody threatening his authority, and so anybody who did so was eliminated - in this case, the Jewish religious leaders did it for him.

I sat and thought about that for a while.

Ok, the religious leaders did Caesar's dirty work.  Why is that?  They weren't exactly happy about being under Roman rule.  However, under Roman rule, there was no dissent tolerated.  You didn't make a scene, you didn't riot, and you certainly didn't openly proclaim someone else as king. (See Acts 19 for another example.)  You did that, and you had a phalanx of Roman soldiers on your doorstep and your little party was over in a very messy way.

And let's face it, the Romans probably didn't care who started it either.  They would take out whomever was closest, and the Jewish leaders were probably on the "closest" list.  I mean, if those leaders couldn't keep their people under control, they weren't fit to be leaders and should be dispatched along with the rabble as an example, right?

Don't you think the religious leaders took that and ran with it to get rid of Christ?

And don't you think the people maybe went home on Palm Sunday night and had a bit of a panic attack?  I mean, what they had just done was treason. It was the culmination of seeing Christ's ministry, yes.  If they had not done it, the very rocks would have, yes.  But it was still rebellion against a very real and a very powerful enemy.  After the crowd disperses, the realization of just how vulnerable the individual is becomes strong.  And fear drives people to do interesting things.

So I can see the Pharisees whispering around to those people, fanning the flames of fear.  They themselves were afraid.  Afraid of what Caesar would do, afraid of losing their privileged position in society.

Clearly the crowd did mean it.  Christ was worthy of that praise.  But the reality of what they meant made it easy to turn quickly in fear and cry out for this man's crucifixion - better the Romans kill him than a whole lot of us, they reasoned.  It's not a story of guilt, it's a story of human nature. How fear is the opposite of God.

And it's interesting - on the one hand, here Fundamentalism pooh-poohs a clear expression of joy and worship as insincere and shameful.  Yet I remember numerous sermons berating a person for not being joyful and worshipful.  You can't win.  You can't win when you twist scripture.

Hosanna, it wasn't twisted this year.  Blessed is He who comes in the name of Jehovah.

First Lent

So, Lent.

Guess it's a pretty big deal in most of Christendom. Shame that I've never known much of anything about it until this year.

No, it's not a biblically mandated practice. (How much of modern Christian practice is, I ask you?)  It's an ancient tradition.  The Old Testament Law proscribed similar seasons of solemnity, so there appears to be precedent, however.

So what is Lent?  It's a time of reflection and penitence.  At our church, it was suggested to consider adding an act of devotion as well as subtracting a vice or a luxury.  According to Wikipedia, some traditions advocate "prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving (justice towards neighbour)". 

What isn't Lent? Lent isn't a way to "be more spiritual", at least in my experience so far. Instead, it is an opportunity to practice something you normally wouldn't do; to practice self-denial as an exercise, not as a way to make God happy.  It's for God to teach me, not for me to be superior.  And you're advised *not* to participate in that part of Lent if you're going through a difficult time in your life.

And that's one big difference right there from my old Fundamentalist past.  When I was in Fundamentalism, I was told many things that I should do to "be more spiritual".  Usually, there were subtle accompanying messages that the spiritual thing itself made God happier with me, earned God's favor, and made me spiritually superior.  Certain fads like having a "life verse" (a single Bible verse that you claimed as your own and quoted at every opportunity) or having your devotions in the morning rather than at other times of the day fell in this category.  Checking the boxes on these lists somehow made me a truly spiritual Christian.  The more I think about it, the sillier it gets.

Anyway, so what did I give up?  I gave up meat.  Pretty traditional, that.  Ok, fine, I have to be honest - I was already temporarily avoiding meat for a medical reason.  Cut me some slack, it's my first Lent.

And what did I add on?

I added on prayer beads.  (*gasp!!*)

I almost feel guilty admitting it, though I have secretly wanted to ever since I saw a treatise on Anglican Prayer Beads.  I won't repeat their excellent explanation here; you all are adults and can read it yourself.

I think the attraction for me was that I've never really been good at praying for any length of time.  No matter how guilted I was into forcing myself to do it, I'm just too distractable.  It isn't enjoyable in the least for me - probably largely in part because "praying" in Fundamentalism usually meant "asking for a list of things".  It never really felt right - though I thought it was just my sinfulness and rebellion.  In the halfway-house church I was last in, there was at least an emphasis on including praising God, thanking God, and adoring God just as much if not more than asking God for things.  But still, asking for things was the part most felt comfortable with and ended up being the largest participated-in part of prayer meeting.

I finally found some beads that I liked (ie, didn't look like an old person's rosary) and tried them last night.

And you know, I actually enjoyed it.   It wasn't pretty - I was still largely focused on memorizing the words, and still trying to find a series of prayers that fits. However, I was pleasantly surprised that the recommendation to pray around the circle 3 times wasn't as onerous as I thought it would be. I found the rhythm relaxing and found the prayers over almost too quickly.  I tried two different prayers and discovered that I much preferred a different phrase for each "week" bead rather than the same one 7 times in a row, repeated x 3 more times to complete the circle, and then repeat that circle 2 more times... still too much Fundy in me to find that comfortable or useful. 

It's a good mental discipline, but not a painful one, and it helps me focus  - not on trying to make myself more "spiritual" - but on God.  To get beyond myself to contemplate the Divine. 

I continue to be struck by how often that particular concept repeats outside of Fundamentalism: the focus is truly God.  Not what I need to do, be, or say.  It's a dramatic contrast, and I love it. 

More Masculinity

Another posting that may shed some more light on this post:

"John Piper on Men in Ministry, and the Masculinity of Christianity"

Everyone keeps blogging way better than I can on this point, but hopefully I'll have the chance to post some original content soon.