The Politics of Passion Week

April 1, 2017 § 4 Comments

Easter’s coming.

One of the most evil things the Scary Clown has promised to do as president is to reinstate torture as a weapon of the state in its “homeland security” arsenal. The last president to do that, and his evil architect vice president, were both Christians. It was this insane contradiction that prompted me to start my first blog, BibleMonster.

For arguably, the most famous person to be tortured to death by an imperial power as a religious insurrectionist was Jesus. The charge for which he was crucified, which was nailed onto the cross over his head, was “King of the Jews”. The soldiers were surely laughing with sarcasm when they posted those charges, but the state took them deadly seriously, nonetheless.

For in fact those charges were true. Jesus was in insurrectionist.

He had started the week with a royal procession into the city, deliberately invoking salvationist and apocalyptic oracles from the prophet Zechariah, assuming royal accoutrements that invoked the monarchy of King David that was both idealized and rife with prophecies about return, and bringing with him a jubilant mob. Then the very next thing he does is raid the national currency exchange. He then spends the next several days leading up to the Passover feast publicly assaulting Rome and its Quisling government in Jerusalem with stories and provocative legal interpretations, then hiding away so successfully in the woods on Mount Olivet that the authorities needed an informer to find him. All this under the very noses of the Roman legionaries, who had built a fort abutting the temple precinct walls overlooking the very courts in which Jesus was staging his insurrection.

And those soldiers were not alone. The Passover season was always a time of civil and political unrest in Judea, and especially in Jerusalem, so the Romans reinforced the Jerusalem legion by bringing in the Syrian legion for the duration of the holiday. For Passover was, after all, the thanksgiving celebration of a people who had been formed as a people in the crucible of divine deliverance from slavery to empire.

The intervening millennium had not diminished the people’s memory of Egyptian slavery, or the Passover and Exodus one bit. Nor was Egypt the only empire that Yahweh had delivered them from. Jesus and his listeners remembered deliverance from Babylon some 600 years later. And just 200 years before their own time under the Maccabees, God had delivered the people from the Seleucids, the descendants of the Macedonian general who inherited the Persian Empire when Alexander the Great died. Judaism was at its core, among other things, a religion about deliverance from empire.

And here came another prophet modeling himself after that first one, Moses, a man named after the conqueror of Palestine, Joshua, whose very name was a battle cry, and deliberately taking on the mantle of their most successful and imperial king, David. Some of the people in the streets actually called him Son of David.

Jesus’s ministry was book-ended by trials. It began with his trial by the Satan in the wilderness after his baptism, and it ended with his trial before the Sanhedrin and the Roman governor. This has special resonance because Judaism as a religion is, at its core, a legal system. It is all about justice and, therefore, about judgment.

Jesus pronounces judgment on the temple-state on his way to the city at the beginning of that fateful week when he curses the fig tree for failing to bear fruit. He condemns the temple-state and the Romans with his teachings in the temple courts. He replaces the temple-state’s central religious institutions at the Last Supper. He goes out of his way to fulfill several apocalyptic prophecies in Zechariah. And he camps out on the very mountain that the prophets Ezekiel and Zechariah say will be the first place to which Yahweh returns when he delivers his people the next time. That is—for Jesus—this time.

This apocalyptic expectation is a difficulty for us today that we’ll have to deal with, because it’s apparently central to Jesus’s mission in this week. But it’s worth remembering that for Jesus and his followers, that expectation was grounded in a thirteen-hundred-year-long history of prior promises of deliverance from empire—and real fulfillments. Jesus had several reasons for quoting Jeremiah in the so-called “cleansing of the temple”.

But before we get to apocalypse, I want to explore some of the events of Passion Week for their meaning in their own time and for their relevance for us today, revisiting some of the posts from a previous series. Below are links to the posts in that original series, for readers who may have found this blog after they were first published in 2016 and not know about them. Here are links to those posts, one for each day of the week, plus a couple of afterthoughts:

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§ 4 Responses to The Politics of Passion Week

  • Susan Jeffers says:

    Steve, I have to tell you that your derogatory mocking use of the term “Scary Clown” so turned me off that I deleted your post unread. Just now came back to tell you, and to at least scan the rest of your post.

    Ridiculing detracts from your message, in my opinion. On many levels.

    • treegestalt says:

      Clearly the particular poorsoul S.D. refers to has him scared. Has made a great many other good and sensible people quite nervous.

      Mockery is a common human response to having someone in charge far less sane than you, who has done and continues doing far worse things than “mockery”. I think Jesus got equally mocking on occasion. And presumably managed to bless the mockee in private all the same.

      Has the Testimony of Euphemism been approved already, with me not noticing? Whatever happened to the testimony of calling a scary clown in office a “Scary Clown”?

    • You’re right. I forgot myself. That’s not how I want to be. I do find him scary and he does often seem a buffoon, but I do need to tend my own garden with a better spirit. Thank you.

  • treegestalt says:

    Thank you! — although “insurrectionist” suggests violence I think was absent. His approach seems to have been more like “Speak audibly and bring a big crowd.”

    As you say, the Romans in their fort overlooking the affair didn’t think this was an occasion for military intervention.

    There had, in fact, been prior incidents of mass non-violent protest, recounted in Josephus’ writings, in which the Romans had needed to back off to avoid general revolt.

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