The Three G's

If you tuned in February 29th to the Academy Awards, you most certainly got your fill of the “three G’s” as celebrities walked the Red Carpet on their way into the Kodak Theatre: Glitter - Glamour - Gossip.  The E Network began its coverage of the Oscars at noon, offering hours of buildup to the arrival of the stars. Thousands of fans, apparently for whom following the lives of others is important, sat in specially constructed stands to catch all the action. The gawking, gossiping, glitter and glamour apparently has become an all-day event.

The real reasons for this bizarre behavior is ultimately of interest only to professors of psychology and sociology. As far as the crazed fans are concerned, it is likely that there is no more profound explanation than that these fans wanted to see how far Salma Hayek’s neckline plunged, or if Russell Crowe really is a “hunk in a funk” as sometimes described, or whether anyone would dress up as a swan, or an armadillo.  Those watching on television stayed glued for a glimpse of their favorite celebrity star.

Flashbulbs popped for photos for the covers of People, Us and The National Enquirer. Interviewers stuck microphones into celebrity faces and asked stupid questions, to which they received mostly stupid answers.   The amazing thing to me is how much people actually enjoy and relish this stuff!

The naked truth is that thousands of fans get a thrill from watching their favorite stars on the Red Carpet, and the Academy Awards show has become the most-watched television event in the world.  We were told that there were almost 1 billion world-wide viewers. That's almost one in every six members of the human race - glued to the TV on Oscar night.

Glitter - glamour - gossip. It seems as if we just can’t get enough!

But it is nothing new. We can think of Palm Sunday, as a sort of pre-show for Holy Week. A star was coming to town, so the people of Jerusalem spread their cloaks on the road (Luke 19:36). The crowds waved branches of palm trees (John 12:13). A major event was already under way, the Passover Festival that drew hundreds of thousands of pilgrims to Jerusalem.  We could say, without overly exaggerating, that the city was electrified with an Oscar night fervor.

Jesus knew exactly what he was getting into. He expected a hero’s welcome on Palm Sunday, but he also knew how fickle people are and the tragic road that lay ahead of him. He had been alluding to it for weeks.  Numerous times he had told his disciples that when he got to Jerusalem the bottom was going to fall out.  What they say about Hollywood was probably true about Jerusalem as well: “People in Hollywood are always touching you - not because they like you, but because they want to see how soft you are before they eat you alive.”

Hollywood can be a tough town, and so was Jerusalem.

The point of Palm Sunday is the irony.  Jesus is treated as a celebrity as he enters Jerusalem. All the expected elements are in place: He makes a royal entrance, riding on the foal of a donkey as King Solomon did before his coronation. He is escorted by the citizens of Jerusalem and “the whole multitude of the disciples” (v. 37). They wave palm branches, praise him for his deeds of power, and sing hymns of acclamation, crying out, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven” (v. 38). The donkey is also symbolic of peace. If Jesus would have wanted a fight, he would have charged in on a stallion, a war horse, the first-century equivalent of a Hummer H2.

So Jesus is treated as a star, a hero, an icon complete with the “three G’s” of glitter, glamour and gossip. He’s got the glitter of a royal entrance, the glamour of waving palm branches and pomp, and even the gossip of the behind-the-scenes buzz about their expectations for him as he enters the Holy City to pick up his prize.

But here’s the twist: His prize is a cross — and he knew it.

Like modern celebrities, Jesus is not only idolized, he is also picked apart. He’s feeling the love on Sunday, the disappointment on Monday, the betrayal on Thursday and the rage and death on Friday. It was a long journey that only took hours. The machinery that kills him on Friday begins to operate on Sunday. As the disciples sing praises, the Pharisees begin to shout, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.”  But Jesus refuses to do this, replying, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out” (vv. 39-40).  The Red Carpet was rolled out, but in few short hours the rug would be pulled out from underneath him. 

From this point on, the buzz about Jesus becomes increasingly negative. People sense that he is not interested in driving out the oppressive Romans. They notice that he travels with a band of unarmed disciples, not a cell of terrorist operatives. They hear him speak of coming times of persecutions, not of glorious victories and times of prosperity. The chief priests, scribes and leaders of the people start to look for a way to kill Jesus (19:47), and by the end of the week the people themselves are shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” (23:21). Luke tells us that the Roman governor can find no ground for the sentence of death, but the crowd keeps demanding that Jesus should be crucified. In the end, the governor grants them their wish (23:22-25).

Jesus is killed on Friday because he fails to live up to human fantasies and ridiculous expectations of glitter, glamour and gossip.  He gets picked apart like Costner on a good day; savaged like a starlet in a swan suit.

Let’s face it, we tend to complain as well. We live with a “What-Have-You-Done-For-Me-Lately?” sort of philosophy. We expect that even the slightest display of Christian religiosity and piety on our part will win us divine brownie points and a pass to easy street. We ignore the Jesus of the gospels who calls us to take up our own cross, love our enemies, sell everything and give it to the poor, turn the other cheek and forgive 70 X 7!

If this day means anything at all it means let Jesus be Jesus – not the superstar we want him to be.  Let's not lay a bunch of self-serving, ridiculous expectations upon him, but let's see him for who he really is and where it is he desires to lead us.  The ironic message of Palm Branches and Red Carpets is that Jesus Christ is a crucified Lord, who brings the costly grace and forgiveness of God, not a La-La Land celebrity who brings glitter, glamour and gossip.

If you’re ready to let Jesus step off the Red Carpet and go to a cross then be prepared for a life-changing encounter. Be prepared for a Lord who will turn your world upside-down and inside out.   Jesus the Christ is not the least bit interested in glitter, glamour and gossip, but he is interested something else.   

Jesus the Christ desires to move us from glitter to grace; from glamour to giving; from gossip to goodness.

From glitter to grace:
Jesus was all about grace!  We are saved “by grace” says Ephesians 2:8. It is his cross that makes it possible for us to live in a “state of grace” with every breath we take.  As followers of Jesus we are children of grace, and we are called to live with the Lord's unparalleled grace as the focal point and very center of our beings. But how quickly we are capable of violently removing grace from the center of our beings.  We force it out with our harsh judgments, anger, self-righteousness, arrogance, and false pride.   

From glamour to giving:
Jesus was all about giving. He gave of himself until there was no more to give. What did Paul say, "he emptied himself taking the form of a slave… humbled himself...  even to death on a cross." (Phil 2:7-8)  How quick are we to stop the giving of ourselves?  It doesn't take much for us to withhold ourselves does it?  A negative word, a hurt feeling, an injured ego or a disagreement and we put a cork in it.  The giving of self comes to an abrupt halt.  We withdraw; withhold and keep ourselves back.  But not our Lord Jesus Christ; the worse it got for him the more he gave until he had no more to give - and then God raised him up and "exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name."  (Phil 2:9)

From gossip to goodness:
Jesus was all about goodness.   By goodness I don't mean the kind of shallow goodness that keeps score or has an ulterior motive.  The essential goodness of Jesus was his goodness of selfless love and compassion.  When he saw the crowds as sheep not having a shepherd, he was moved with compassion; when he saw the lepers he reached through barriers of religious taboo and touched them with his healing hands; when confronted with sinners and outcasts he fellowshipped with them and got to know them (like he had done with Zacchaeus just before he rode into town); when he viewed the great city before him and realized how lost it's residents were he wept for them.   

I believe the irony and contrast of Holy Week is necessary.  It is absolutely necessary!  It began with a parade and ended with a cross.  That part is all about us, about what we are capable of.  We will even nail the Son of God to cross unless he conforms to our schemes.  It's a week that unmasks:

            - the kind of God we want; one who will cater to our self-serving desires;
            - the disdainful ends to which we will go when we don't get what we want.;

But it is also a week that unmasks:
            - what kind of God it is that we finally do get in the end.

This week is necessary for us to finally get it; for us to finally understand just what kind of Lord it is that we follow; the cost to him of loving us and forgiving us, even when we are at our worst; even when we turn on him, he doesn't turn on us, but sustains his embrace. 

So ok, let us go ahead and give Jesus the palm branch treatment today, but let us not just pat him on the back.  Let us not make him into a one Sunday wonder; let us not pull the rug out from underneath him by living faithless, self-serving lives. His life, death and resurrection compel us to follow him down a road of grace, giving and goodness; allowing ourselves to be transformed into the likeness of him.  Amen.