Palm Sunday

There were two processions into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, biblical scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan invite us to imagine. One, coming from the west, is Pilate. Pilate, the representative of Rome. Pilate rides a tall stallion and is draped in metal and jewels. He is here to keep an eye on things: after all, this is Passover, and Passover is the time the Jews remember their liberation from an oppressive empire. What else might they want to be liberated from this year? Best to be here, making sure nothing gets out of hand. Pilate wears the clothing of power, domination and war.

The other procession comes from the east. It is Jesus. Jesus, who rides not a stallion but a donkey (or in Luke’s telling, a young horse). Jesus who is not wearing metal and jewels, but the ancient near eastern equivalent of jeans and a t-shirt. Jesus, amid cheering crowds and waving branches, is as vulnerable as ever, riding straight into a storm. Jesus is riding to his death.

We are approaching Holy Week, the time when Jesus’s life of love reaches its inevitable end. As we come near to this, we have a joyous thing to do in our community: we will be baptising Walter! Walter has come to a point where he wants to claim Jesus as his Lord. What joy it will be to baptise Walter into the Christian community of faith.

The concurrent events – Palm Sunday and a baptism – reflect new light on each other. I have been thinking about something Paul writes about baptism, in Galatians, which is that in baptism, we become clothed in Christ (Galatians 3:27). How different this is from the military uniform of Pilate. He wears armour, but we are being invited to wear something very different.

Too often, we put on armour. We are good at finding ways to feel safe and protected. It might be by never opening up to the people around us. It might be by hiding behind a good job and respectable life, so no one sees the true person underneath. It might be by avoiding conflict, and so avoiding genuine relationships. There are so many ways to build an armour.

But in baptism, we take off our armour, and put on the clothes of Christ instead. Instead of self-protection, we put on love. And we follow Jesus, on his little donkey, into Jerusalem. We become vulnerable, like Jesus. And this is the way of peace.

So as we get ready to witness Walter’s baptism, I wonder if we can hear the invitation of our own baptisms afresh – and the invitation of Palm Sunday! Take off your armour, let yourself be washed. And put on the clothes of Christ.  

Words by Rev Andreana

Image by Uschi from Pixabay