"Shattering the Status Quo", April 13, 2025

 

Shattering the Status Quo

By Rev. Jamie Green Klopotoski

Based on Luke 19:28-40

Palm Sunday, April 13, 2025

First Baptist Church of Gloucester

 

Scott Gilbertson is a 68-year-old military veteran from Syracuse, NY. He was one of thousands of people who protested at events held across the country last Saturday to show their anger and frustration with the current administration’s attacks on immigrants, federal programs, humanitarian aid, government jobs, and international trade. When Scott was interviewed at the protest, he said he felt like he was a “whim away from being homeless” because of threats to his veteran benefits. He has already lost his doctor and has had medical tests canceled because of budget cuts at the Veterans Administration. He lives off of his Social Security income, so cuts in Social Security would be devastating. He wanted his protest to send a strong message to those in power. Scott said: “I hope they hear the status quo has to change.”

 

Status Quo is an interesting term. Its classic definition is “the existing state of affairs, especially regarding social or political issues.” But I prefer how Ronald Reagan once defined it. He said, “Status Quo, you know, is Latin for ‘the mess we’re in.”

 

Today’s status quo, the current mess we are in, revolves around greed, selfishness, power, war, violence, bullying, lies, inequality, anger, discrimination, racism, sexism, all the isms. Today’s status quo is actually a lot like the status quo in Jerusalem 2000 years ago. Some things never change. But Palm Sunday is an invitation to change. Most people imagine Palm Sunday as a day of celebration. A joyous party, waving around palm fronds, dancing in the streets. Which it was. But it was also a day of protest to shatter the status quo.

 

Let’s imagine what that first Palm Sunday might have been like. It’s the week of the Jewish holiday of Passover, a beautiful spring day in Jerusalem, and the city is buzzing with excitement. Families are stumbling over themselves to prepare.

You aren’t going to believe who’s come to town! Women grab cloaks. Men cut palms. Kids organize confetti. City officials sweep the temple and clean the streets. His presence demands it. His followers love it. All kinds of people are in the streets: Old, young, and everyone in-between. Everyone wants to get a glimpse of his royalty. Everyone wants to see his entourage. It’s not every day Pontius Pilate comes to town.

 

People always lined the streets when Rome came to town. Pilate was the extension of Caesar. He was the face of Rome in Israel, so when he rolled up, people noticed. People cheered. People waved palms as Pilate entered because in the Roman Empire, palm branches were a symbol of triumph and victory.

 

Pontius Pilate — along with a grand imperial procession riding in on majestic war horses and wielding gleaming swords – came to Jerusalem because it was a holiday: holidays brought crowds, and crowds brought potential protests and uprisings. They were there to maintain the status quo of power and wealth for the elite.

 

From the other side of the city, Jesus approaches.  Not on horseback, not accompanied by an elite entourage, and not with any weapons. Instead, he rides in on a donkey, accompanied by poor people, fishermen, women, and outcasts, proclaiming peace. It was a direct action against the occupying forces, against the status quo. It was an in-your-face mockery. 

 

Pilate came to maintain law and order. Jesus came to fulfill the law and subvert the order.

Two ideologies, two realms, two completely different stories parading the streets of Jerusalem. It was a powder keg about to explode, and people didn’t know what to do. They should be at the West Gate bowing to Rome. They should be throwing down cloaks and waving palms for Pilate. They should be singing, dancing, and witnessing the spectacle that is Caesar and the Roman Empire, but something new is taking place.

 

Nobody is supposed to notice Jesus entering. He is a nobody from nowhere. He’s riding a ridiculous donkey. But people notice. The celebration reserved for Pilate is transferred to Jesus. The palms reserved for Pilate were waved for Jesus. The people danced and celebrated in the streets not for Pilate but for Jesus. Palm Sunday is the moment Caesar’s old realm finally comes face-to-face with God’s new realm. And these two realms could not be more different.

 

The old realm, the status quo, is controlled by Rome. The old realm says, “Caesar is Lord.”  It’s for the elite and the rich and its methods are violence and exploitation. The new realm is controlled by God. The new realm says, “Jesus is Lord.” It’s for the lowly and downtrodden and its methods are peace, servanthood, gentleness, humility, mercy, generosity, and compassion.

 

All Jesus ever talked about was how the Kingdom of God redefines everything we know. Jesus’ followers called him ‘King’, but he was not like any king they’d ever experienced. He didn’t flaunt his power, he didn’t hoard his wealth or tax his people just to grow more comfortable in his isolated palace, he didn’t exploit the weak. He was not a king who ruled by force or fear, but by love and sacrifice. Jesus was a Servant-King, an un-king.

 

I love how theologian John Shuck describes it: “This new kingdom is an anti-empire run by an un-king.  Its way is peace through justice, and justice through non-violence.  Its royal court consists of poets and crazy minstrels who think the poor should be filled with good things.  The un-king's army is a band of off-key resisters who keep getting in the way as they sing for peace. Anyone who is ever left out, despised, rejected, forgotten, spit on, looked over, stood up, washed up, or left behind is in the un-king's cabinet.”

 

Jesus’ message awoke something in the people. They felt heard and seen and valued. They came together. And this was a huge threat to Rome. The crowd's enthusiastic reception of Jesus, declaring him "King," disrupted the established power structures and the authority of the Roman Empire. Jesus's entry into Jerusalem, riding a donkey and being met with palm branches and shouts of "Hosanna," was a direct challenge to the status quo of the Roman Empire on their war horses.

 

Two processions marched through the streets of Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday. Which procession do you want to be a part of?

 

Are you going to march with kingdom of the empire?  A kingdom that protects the rich and powerful, uses military might, acts like a bully, promotes lies, seeks revenge, hoards resources, widens the gap between the rich and the poor, denies rights to people, limits free speech, prevents women from getting the medical care they need, stops funding humanitarian aid around the world, and discriminates against those who are different?

 

Or are you going to take to the streets with the kingdom of God, which promises freedom, justice, mercy, and enough for all? Every Sunday we pray for God’s kingdom to be here on Earth as it is Heaven. Now’s our chance to practice what we preach. We cannot remain silent, we must not give up, we must do something, we must speak up. We must join with people like veteran Scott Gilbertson and protest the status quo. We must work to clean up the mess we’re in.

 

It could mean literally gathering in the streets to protest. It could mean commenting on a friend’s hateful and blatantly false facebook post. It could mean using someone’s preferred name and pronouns. It could mean writing letters and making phone calls. It could mean voting in absolutely every single election. It could mean a lot of things. But it cannot mean silence or complacency.

 

If we take Jesus’ life and ministry and message and death SERIOUSLY, we must join his parade. The parade we choose to attend will make all the difference. Choose wisely. Amen.