The Gift of Confrontational Peace

Lent's Surprising Gifts (Part 6)

A Palm Sunday Reflection on Zechariah 9:9-10

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THE TRAGIC COMEDY OF WORLD PEACE

Imagine the scene. A huge auditorium is filled with people. The lighting is bright and glamorous, the music is triumphant, and the audience struggles to breathe as the spectacle overwhelms their senses. A line of almost impossibly beautiful young women files onto the stage. After a perfect pause for the cameras to scan each participant thoroughly, the first takes her place beside the presenter. He spends a few moments in lighthearted banter before asking her the question everyone knows is coming: “What do you most hope to see become a reality in your lifetime.” She smiles, and—to no one’s surprise—answers, ”World peace.”

Scenes like these are often milked for their comedic value on movies and television shows, but the humour has an element of tragedy. We laugh because we see through the insincerity of pageant contestants who are only trying to say what the judges want to hear. But we also laugh because we know that we all want to live in a world at peace—even though we seem unable to find our way.

ELUSIVE PEACE

It can be difficult to imagine what world peace would look like, especially when we consider that, according to a 19th-century thinker, Gustave Valbert, there have only been 227 years of peace in the last 3300 years of human history. In that time, 14,351 wars have killed 3.64 billion people, and eight thousand peace treaties have been signed and broken—with the average time they remained in force being only two years. In Europe alone, in the last 300 years, there have been 286 wars, with some being caused by religion—by the very people who claim to follow Jesus, the Prince of Peace.

Even in our own lives, the idea of peace can feel like a nice, but unrealistic dream. We all know the pain of conflict in our families and places of work. Divorce, rivalries between family members, and feuds with neighbours make peace seem all but impossible to find, even for followers of Jesus’ non-violent way.

When I visited Israel many years ago I discovered that the flagstones in the Church of the Resurrection were claimed by different denominations who shared ownership of the building. Our guide told us that children would sit on the floor for their Sunday school lessons. One day, a child allowed his fingers to stray onto a flagstone of one of the other denominations, and a priest struck his hand with a stick!

Yet, despite our complete lack of ability or desire to live together with kindness and compassion, the Scriptures refuse to silence their call for us to embrace the way of peace. The Lectionary reading from John for Palm Sunday references the bold claim of the ancient prophet Zechariah that God would send a king to bring peace to God’s people and the world. Christians interpret the message and mission of Jesus through such prophesies and they reinforce our use of the title, Prince of Peace. But the big question we never seem able to answer is this: How does Jesus bring peace into our broken world and lives?

WITH US NOT FOR US

The first thing Jesus offers us is the challenge to live wholeheartedly in the way of peace. Zechariah pictures God’s king riding not on a war horse, but on a donkey. The Gospel writers saw Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem as the fulfilment of this prophecy. But it was essentially a piece of Messianic ‘street theatre’ in direct contrast to the procession of the Governor, Pontius Pilate, which happened at the same time. According to Marcus Borg, Pilate would have been entering the city from the other side, seated on a large war horse and followed by a procession of soldiers. His purpose was to display the might of Rome as a threat to anyone who might consider causing an uprising during the Passover. But Jesus was on a colt that had not been ridden before—uncontrollable and comical. There was no threat in this display, except perhaps to the deceitful narratives of warmongers through the ages. It was the ultimate image of peace.

Jesus’ demonstration reveals the striking truth that the violence in our lives is simply a product of the violence in our hearts. If there is to be peace in the world—and in our families, communities, and workplaces—we need to let peace reign in our hearts. And we do this by following Jesus’ example of humility and non-violence; by learning to choose donkeys, not war horses. This is not something Jesus—or anyone else—can do for us. It is a choice that only we can make for ourselves—if we are willing to understand and apply the deeply challenging message of Jesus’ Palm Sunday street theatre production.

A few years ago, when my wife and I were driving to a small town in South Africa’s Western Cape for my nephew’s wedding, we encountered a car driving frustratingly slowly on the highway. Unsurprisingly, when a large truck came up behind him, the driver hooted for him to move over. But the driver of the slow car simply put his arm out of the window and waved a significant finger at the truck. It was an ordinary interaction, echoed again and again on roads around the world, but it made me wonder about the little acts of violence that fill our days.

I found myself asking searching questions about my own violent tendencies: What if I chose to be more tolerant of slow drivers? What if I smiled at those who hooted at me instead of visually assaulting them? What war horses am I tempted to climb onto to achieve my goals? And what donkeys could I choose to ride instead?