From the Chaplains

The Triumph: Wielding a different kind of power

What does power look like to you?

Do you feel that you have any power, in your own life and context?

This week in Chapel services, as we continue to honour the holy month of Ramadan, the approach to Passover and, last Wednesday, Persian New Year (Nowruz Mobarak!), we have been continuing to prepare our students for the holy week of Easter.  

Palm Sunday, or Passion Sunday, marks the beginning of Holy Week for millions of Christians around the world. It will be remembered and celebrated in Protestant and Catholic churches all over the world, in many different languages, this coming Sunday. For the Orthodox churches, Easter is celebrated 5 weeks later.

On the day that Christians now call Palm Sunday, Jesus made his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem.

But it wasn’t the kind of triumphal entrance that the people of Jerusalem or anywhere else in the mighty Roman Empire were used to witnessing.

At this time, in the first century CE, citizens (and non-citizens) of the Roman Empire were familiar with a procession called a Triumph.

This word probably comes from the Greek; thriambos, the name of a procession honouring the god Bacchus.

The Triumph was a ritual procession.

It was the highest honour bestowed upon a victorious General in the ancient Roman Republic; it was the summit of a Roman aristocrat’s career and occurred after his army had been victorious in battle – that is, had won more territory, resources and slave labour for the Empire.

To qualify for such an honour, the rules were quite prescriptive – to ‘triumph’, a man was required to have been a magistrate cum imperio (holding supreme and independent command) who had won a major land or sea battle in his province, killing at least 5,000 of the enemy and ending the war. 

To triumph was a big, big deal, and no expense was spared.

The magistrates and members of the Senate came first in the procession, followed by musicians, the animals that would be sacrificed at the temple and the spoils of war, including the captured and chained slaves from the conquered province or land.

This was a procession designed to communicate to the masses the invincible power, might and, let’s face it, the raw brutality of the Roman Empire.

These triumphal processions were an important part of the Roman Empire’s almighty propaganda machine. In a first century way, these triumphal parades would ‘go viral’, via word of mouth.

Everyone would either see, or hear about, these parades. People would talk about them long after the event. Children would re-enact them.

Think of the hype and the media attention that King Charles’ coronation created. Well imagine that, Roman-style! But with a lot more violence.

This was how the Emperor maintained his power and authority over the masses.

Riding in a magnificent chariot festooned with laurel, the victorious General (triumphator) wore the royal purple and gold tunic and toga, holding a laurel branch in his right hand and an ivory sceptre in his left.

A slave held a golden crown over the General’s head while repeatedly reminding him in the midst of his glory that he was a mortal man. The General’s soldiers marched last.

On reaching the temple, the General presented his laurel, along with thank-offerings, to the image of Jupiter or another Roman god.

The slaves were usually killed, along with the sacrificial animals, and the ceremony concluded with a feast for the magistrates and the Senate.

This is the spectacle that the ordinary people were used to seeing. It was a show of power, strength, authority and oppression.

This was the narrative that was told by the Roman Empire, over and over again:

The Emperor and his army are mighty. He has power over you. You are a lowly nobody. If you step out of line, you will be crushed and eliminated like one of those slaves. There are no exceptions. There is no mercy. Hooray for the Emperor and his Generals!

For the slaves in particular, and for the common people who were subject to oppressive Roman taxes and control, the Roman General’s victory meant enslavement, misery and oppression.

So … back to Palm Sunday.

Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem to celebrate Passover was like a Triumph, in some ways. But very unlike it in others.

Same same but different.

The 4 writers of the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John tell us that, as Jesus entered the city, the ordinary people lined the dusty road, waving palm branches and following him, shouting out ‘Hosanna!’ and hailing him as a long-awaited King.  

In Matthew’s gospel we are told:

 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut [palm] branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10 When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”

11 The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”                                                      

Matthew 21:8 -11

Hosanna comes from the Hebrew words yasha (“deliver, save”) and anna (“beg, beseech”) which combine to form the word that, in English, transliterates into ‘Hosanna’.

So literally, Hosanna means “I beg you to save!” or “Please save / deliver us!” It’s not just a cry of praise, as is commonly thought – although the people are also praising Jesus as they cry out ‘Hosanna! Praise the One whom God has sent to save us!”

Jesus entered Jerusalem as a King – but not an earthly king.

He had power, as can be seen in the people’s reaction to him. The Jesus movement, by this time, had major critical mass. He was causing a stir.

But how Jesus used his power was very different from the Emperor, or Generals, or other human leaders.

As I told the students in chapel this week, Jesus shows us, in his humble-yet-triumphant entrance into the city, how to use the power that we are given.

Jesus’ last lesson to his disciples had been to wash their feet – an act of service and humility.

He came not to be served but to serve.

And we, too, are called not to be served, not to serve our own interests, not to build up our own power, nor to increase our own influence and status … but to serve and love others in humility, love and compassion.

There was lots of noise, laughter and also listening this week in chapel, as the students re-enacted an ancient Roman Triumph, with costumes and music, as well as Jesus’ entrance, with people waving palm branches.

We talked about how sometimes, in this human world, leaders and rulers do not always use their power well. In fact, they sometimes use their power to oppress, intimidate and disempower others in an attempt to gain even more power for themselves.

But Jesus was a different kind of leader. Jesus came not to judge, not to divide, not to oppress, but to bring peace.

His triumphal entrance meant freedom, not enslavement.

Peace, not war.

Love, not hatred.

We each have power – our voice, talents and abilities, what’s written on our passport, our social status, our education. These things are given to us as gifts and they are power.

My prayer is that we can use Jesus’ humble-triumphant entrance as an example of servant-hearted leadership, and use our gifts and our power to serve and love one another.

Edwina O’Brien

Assistant College Chaplain