“The Courage of the Servant”

Palm Sunday

Sunday April 5, 2009

Isaiah 50: 4-9a
Psalm 118: 1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2: 5-11

One of the most intriguing dimensions of contemporary  -- or ‘postmodern’ -- literary theory  is the study of the ways that texts and the contexts in which we read them mediate meaning and affect our interpretations of reality.  

These theories remind us that meaning is not drawn from one text or one source on its own; the deconstruction of texts and contexts, and of our understanding of reality invites us to pay attention not only to what a text says, but also to the influence of other texts that exist within the context in which we encounter some idea.  This study, which is sometimes broadly referred to as intertextuality, is found in many modern forms of literature, art and entertainment.

Some light-hearted examples.  In the recent American presidential campaign, all that a speaker needed to do, when speaking about Barack Obama, was to mention ‘having a dream’ and suddenly the text of Martin Luther King’s famous speech – and the entire civil rights movement of which Martin Luther King serves as an icon -- became the context in which people interpreted the meaning of Obama’s rise to power.   One did not even have to mention Martin Luther King’s name – all that was needed was an allusion to the text of King’s famous speech, and suddenly the juxtaposition of his “I Have a Dream” speech with some modern political claim mediated our understanding of what was being said.

But those parallels to Martin Luther King were not the only ‘texts’ through which to understand Obama.  Karen and I have been recently smiling every time that our son Spencer wants us to sing the theme song from the children’s cartoon “Bob the Builder”, since the words of that song now take on a rather humourous dimension in light of Obama’s recent election slogan ‘Yes, we can’; and an even more interesting dimension in light of the present economic crisis that the Obama administration is seeking to address – and to fix.  For those of you who do not know the song – and I won’t sing it – the words are “Bob the builder, can we fix it? Bob the builder, yes we can.”  Can we fix it?  Yes we can.

This assessment of the contextual realities in which and through which we interpret reality are not limited to political campaigns nor to verbal and written communication. 

It is equally interesting to ponder the ways that the texts and contexts in other forms of media affected our understanding and interpretation of reality.

Consider television evangelists and religious programming.  I, for one, have never felt particularly moved by religious programming on television.   I have come to believe that one of the reasons why I have never felt particularly moved by such shows on television is due to the context – that is, because of the content of most of the other shows on television.  Like McLuhan’s famous comments about the medium affecting the message that it is conveying, a television set does not work, for me at least, as an effective forum for addressing substantive spiritual issues and complex theological ideas. 

And why?  Because those religious shows are being presented in the wider context of a barrage of entertainment that is relatively useless and quite forgettable; advertising for things that I neither need nor want; and soundbite oversimplifications of complex issues.  Because of that context, the ‘texts’ of religious television shows too often seem, to me, like little more than a different form of entertainment, advertising or soundbite oversimplifications of what should be engaging and complex theological ideas.

It is this juxtaposition of texts – in print and on television – that mediates and shapes our interpretations of what is being said.

So what does all of this have to do with today’s biblical passages?

Today is Palm Sunday.  It is a day when we read and remember the account of Christ’s seemingly triumphant entry into Jerusalem at the beginning of the final week of his life.

On its own, our Gospel reading is a passage filled with adulation and celebration.  As the crowds cry out ‘Hosanna’, we can almost hear their enthusiasm and their excitement about the arrival of Christ in Jerusalem.  Were we to read this text, by itself, all that we would encounter is a passage filled with joyful celebration.

But today’s reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah invites us to set the celebration of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem alongside one of the ancient songs of the suffering servant. 

The juxtaposition of these texts leads us to interpret the events of Palm Sunday in a different light.  Because we are so used to reading this passage from Isaiah alongside the Gospel texts, we begin – both consciously and unconsciously -- to interpret the words of Isaiah in the light of the coming of the Messiah, the coming of Jesus.  In so doing, there is a danger that we begin to mistakenly conclude that the author of Isaiah was some form of psychic seer or fortune teller who was able to gaze into a crystal ball and see Jesus riding into Jerusalem, over five hundred years before he was born.

This form of interpretation – of the prophets as predictors of future events -- has been a part of the Christian tradition for a long period of time.  Unfortunately, this is neither the best nor the most helpful way to read the prophets, since there is no reason to believe that the prophets had some gift or ability to predict the future.

A better way to read and to interpret these passages is to seek to appreciate how their words offered the theological context that was needed and that was used, by the early Church, as it began to reflect upon who Jesus was and what he accomplished.  In the prophetic speculations, the writings, the hopes and the expectations about the Messiah, the earliest Christian communities were offered the context in which the actions of Jesus came to be understood and interpreted.  By reading these prophetic texts alongside their remembrances and reflections on Jesus, they – and the Church throughout the ages – came to a deeper discernment about the meaning of the events of his life.  

Consider how this juxtaposition of texts, this intertextuality, specifically affects our reading of today’s readings.  When we take a passage such as Isaiah 50: 5 – “I did not turn backward.  I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting” – and read it alongside the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem -- when he did not turn backward, but gave himself up to those who struck him, insulted him and spat upon him -- we cannot help but ‘read’ the Isaiah passage as a form of foreshadowing of what would happen to Christ. 

Which is not a wrong way to interpret this passage  -- but it is equally important that we do not lose sight of the meaning of the Isaiah passage in its original context before we interpret it alongside the story of Jesus.

So what was the passage from Isaiah originally about?

Today’s passage from Isaiah chapter 50 is the third in a series of four ‘servant songs’ or ‘songs of the suffering servant’.  These songs, found in this section of Isaiah, are a series of meditations on an unnamed individual who is chosen and sent by God, who is called upon to raise up the people of Israel, and who suffers for their work in the world.  Today’s passage speaks both of the humiliation that the suffering servant endures at the hands of his enemies, and the vindication that the servant experiences through the intercession of God.

So who was this suffering servant about which Isaiah wrote?

Although we, as Christians, read these passages as references to Jesus Christ, it is important to realize that in their original context – and in many Jewish communities today – they are often viewed as a metaphor for the entire community of the Jewish people.  At the time when Isaiah was writing, the Jewish people, who had been chosen by God and sent with a mission and calling into the world, had suffered greatly – particularly in the time of the Babylonian exile.   Although they had been given, to the world, to be a light to the nations, and as the community which would establish justice and righteousness in the earth, they had encountered terrible resistance, they had been despised, rejected and acquainted with grief.  And yet, in spite of that suffering and that degradation, those who had not turned back from the call of covenantal faithfulness and obedience to God had experienced vindication from God.  

As Christians, we believe that it is right and faithful to read the suffering servant passages in light of the events of Christ’s life.  In so doing, we come to a deeper awareness – and even a deeper reverence – for who he was, and for what he did.   Were it not for our interpretation – our juxtaposition of these passages alongside the story of Jesus of Nazareth – many of our understandings and claims about him would be very different.

When we lay Isaiah 50 alongside John 12, for example, we are invited to interpret the events of Palm Sunday as an intentional journey that was made by one who can be understood as the suffering servant of God – the One who did not turn back from the fate that awaited him, the One who did not turn away in the face of ridicule and insults, the One who made the decision to turn his back to his persecutors and to endure the disgrace and shame of their actions, all the while continuing to trust that, as Isaiah wrote, “The LORD God helps me…he who vindicates me is near.” 

To read the story of Palm Sunday on its own would lead us to conclude that Jesus was a triumphant monarch being hailed as he arrived in Jerusalem; to read this text alongside Isaiah invites us to ask whether the story of Palm Sunday is, in fact, the story of a willing journey of a suffering servant toward his own humiliation and death. 

Of course, this juxtaposition also creates that paradoxical possibility that this story is both – both the story of a victorious king and the story of a suffering servant.

And it is this beautiful paradox, created by the juxtaposition of these texts, that leads us into the very heart of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  That is, we bow before a conquering hero and a crucified Messiah; we follow a suffering servant and the Lord of all things; the cries of Hosanna, we hear foreshadowed echoes of ‘Crucify’; and in the midst of his humiliation and crucifixion, we discover the promise of resurrection and salvation.

And this realization lies at the heart of our faith.  To bow before Christ as victorious king without realizing that he was also a suffering servant leads us to embrace a faith which celebrates Easter without Good Friday, the resurrection without the crucifixion, spiritual triumphalism without self-giving love.   Equally, to envision Christ only as the Suffering Servant without celebrating his triumph over the grave is to embrace a faith rooted in Good Friday without Easter, brokenness without healing, despair without hope.   It is only by keeping these two visions woven and juxtaposed together – of the suffering servant and the triumphant king – that our faith begins to be truly formed and shaped in the light of the Gospel.

And it is only by keeping these two visions together that we come to realize, as we read the story of Palm Sunday, that Jesus knew what was about to happen to him; that he did not turn back; and that what he did, what he endured – was because he is the servant king who was willing to suffer -- for us, and for our salvation.

Thanks be to God.