Palm Sunday: the defeat of non-violence, a challenge for today
Martí Colom
Today,
with the feast of Palm Sunday, we begin the celebrations of Holy Week. We know
perfectly well the story and its outcome, but nonetheless the power of the
texts and the intensity of the various liturgies of these days will lead us one
more year to experience a succession of deep and often contradictory feelings,
an authentic emotional roller-coaster —especially during the Triduum: from the endearing
warmth that one sees in the image of the group of brothers gathered to share a
meal on Thursday night to the profound respect that causes to watch, at the end
of that dinner, the simple and potent sign of Jesus, kneeling, washing his
disciples’ feet; from the anxiety we experience seeing his loneliness in
Gethsemane to the frustration produced by of his arrest; from the pain caused
by the fracture in the loyalty between teacher and disciples (“everyone abandoned
him”, the evangelist will tell us) to the outrage with which we respond to the
cynicism and meanness of his accusers; from the sadness for his brutal
execution to the exhilaration of the resurrection, which brings meaning to the
entire story when it seemed to be irretrievably concluded. The liturgies will remind us that our
faith is not a cold intellectual exercise: on the contrary, it begins with the thrill that leaves in us this extraordinary narrative, from
which then we develop our theological reflection.
The
adventure begins today with Jesus entering in Jerusalem. The episode anticipates
the deep tensions that will bring about the final ending: the Galilean is
received in the capital by an enthusiastic crowd, the air of the city is filled
with palm branches, olive twigs and songs of joy. Yet, we realize that very few
understand the message he wants to get across by riding a donkey. He wishes to
be a messenger of peace but is welcomed like a warrior. In very few days the
same people who cheered him will ask for his death on a cross. Holy Week
begins, in a word, with the story of the
failure of non-violence. For this is exactly the meaning of Jesus’ decision
to enter the city in a gentle ass. The animal, a reference to Zachariah’s
prophecy (1)
constitutes a clear declaration of intentions from the master: he is indeed the
Messiah, for he realizes that he is definitely anointed, soaked and trespassed
by the Spirit of God. But (precisely because
of such an awareness of the Spirit in him) he will be a non-violent Messiah, inspired
by Isaiah («I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked
my beard»)(2)
and firmly established on his own personal experience. Let’s not forget that Jesus
has invited his followers to love their enemies and to discard vengeance («when
someone slaps you on one cheek, turn and give him the other»)(3).
The
passion tells the story of the spectacular failure of this kind of Messiah:
very shortly, when those who welcomed him with excitement will see Jesus under
arrest and will understand the meaning of his entrance riding an ass (or
perhaps will recognize that his non-violent proposal was for real), they will reject him without hesitation.
Non-violence will we defeated by brutality and the last lesson of the prophet
from Nazareth will be discarded.
What teachings can we draw from this drama?
First
of all we must say, of course, that Jesus’ real failure would have been to fall
into the temptation of power and his unavoidable companion —violence, thus
betraying all his life and mission. Therefore, at the level of his personal coherence and fidelity to his
principles, he does not fail at all.
Secondly
at the level of ideals and values
(the validity of which only time confirms or denies), Jesus is exemplary by
proposing a way (non-violence) that today, two thousand years later, is seen by
many (Christians and non-Christians, believers and non-believers alike) as the
most noble, mature, constructive, sound and brave path that humanity can take.
However,
we should not be naïve. And we should not be too proud of our own age either:
the two previous considerations cannot obscure the fact that Jesus failed
stunningly in his attempt to convince the people about the merits of
non-violence. And it is important to confess that, most likely, today he would fail again. One has to embrace
with realism the notion that nowadays, as it was the case then (in spite of the
stand for peace that, as we said, many spouse) non-violence is far from being
accepted by the majority as the best way to resolve our conflicts.
Actually,
it is amazing to see all kinds of populisms thrive in our own time, and not
just in the victimized countries of the south. We see how political leaders
with simplistic and inflammatory messages filled with violent attitudes against
those who do not share their views or who are just different (immigrants,
refugees, foreigners…) gather support and votes in old democracies both in
Europe and the Americas. Today, as in the past, proponents of non-violence have
a tough job.
This reflection at the beginning of Holy Week
does not intend to be pessimistic or discouraging. It is simply a matter of
recognizing that the non-violence that Jesus was unable to make attractive to the
men and women of Jerusalem today still needs friends and advocates. The failure
of the Messiah who rode a donkey is a challenge to us, as well as an invitation
to continue promoting peace untiringly —that peace that so often eludes us, the
peace that we will only attain if we learn to forgive, to accept others and to
reject with determination all forms of violence.
(1) «Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion, shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass» (Zac 9:9).
(2) Is 50:6
(3) Lk 6:29
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