Fearless Faith

Life was simple growing up in a small rural community. The highlights of carefree youth included explorations of most of the local businesses and their owners, knowing every person in town through a paper route, and, consequently, them knowing us which kept behaviors somewhat in line. One did not want to risk a neighbor stopping by to have a serious conversation with one’s parents.

Weekends were magic, for there was always something to do that took little more than inspired imagination. The haunts we entertained represented places of safety. We knew every vicious dog in the community and had all the back alleys figured out on our bikes, the ultimate freedom riders. We spent hours working on them, repairing flat tires, and oiling and tightening chains on a regular basis. We never considered ourselves mechanics, but it was nice to have learned some basic skills from family and neighbors.

As we got older, fall especially took on greater significance: football games, falling leaves, and approaching holidays all tugged at something good inside of us, even a first kiss over an honest-to-goodness white picket fence. Anticipation filled the air, as it did for other community events including Fourth of July, Memorial weekend, and the annual Labor Day Harvest Festival. As much as these events were exciting and eagerly looked forward to, it was even more so for many kids who grew up less advantaged than I.

Imagine, then, the hype and fervor that might have greeted Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. We read and listen to the narrative each year as images are shared once more of Jesus on a colt, people laying coats and robes before him, as palm branches herald his arrival. But behind the pageantry (‘triumphant entry’ is a word often used) lies the reality of community that had to exist in a harsh political environment. While there were few similarities to the time I grew up, human nature was still a part of the process. Once word got around Jerusalem, as it does in all communities, the looky-loos as well as the faithful made an appearance to see what the hype was all about.

Some suggest the fickleness of non-faith community would be apparent as the week unfolded and Jesus was condemned to die. What was the reaction, not of politicos, but of the common citizenry to a tableau playing out before them in ways they could neither understand nor comprehend? To know Palm Sunday begins with knowing the setting, the people, the politics and the rulers. If that is ignored, then we reduce Holy Week to convenient story lines and glib renditions of scripture. When we begin to ask deeper questions of relationship, then a more complete picture is given the opportunity to emerge.

What was the talk in the back alleys of Jerusalem? What gossip preceded Jesus? Was the story that comes to us thousands of years later all there is or can we find something more, something deeper, something to instill life into the dry readings of scripture? The answer for many is a resounding yes. Bringing scripture to life is not only the job of the church, but the responsibility of the church goer. May an attitude of inquiry and exploration accompany your readings of scripture this week!