Jesus the Fool

“In his own time, Jesus was considered a kook. He became a hero among the poor because he ministered to them, but respectable people probably saw him as a scruffy, wandering street person. Not only was Jesus labeled a fool, he sometimes accepted the role and deliberately played the fool as part of his radical protests.”∥

That’s a quote from a book titled The Essential Crazy Wisdom, by Wes Nisker.

What better day than today, the convergence of April Fool’s Day and Palm Sunday, to play with the idea of Jesus as the Fool. In all seriousness…or, maybe not!

Perhaps every culture has its fools, eventually. It seems to be part of the human condition, when life becomes too burdened, too oppressive, too structured, we must burst the bonds of routine and tradition, allowing the creativity of human imagination to offer glimpses of release, of salvation.

Clowns, Court Jesters, Magicians, and Tricksters, throughout time, have demonstrated alternative, life-giving, creativity-enhancing ways of being in the world.

Shaking off the shackles of doctrine, dogma, and decree,
the Holy Fool holds up a new vision of possibility,
calling us back to the essential goodness within each of us.

Holy Fools are countercultural,
dressing abnormally, or not at all!
They wear strange hats,
speak in poetry and parables,
enticing immobilized embodiers of longing
out of our repression and depression
into believing again in our power to make a difference.

Holy Fools have insight lost by others.
They spark a light and we see in a new way.
Because they are innocent, playful, and full of joy,
they are threatening to those whose comfort
is enshrined in people and policies of privilege.

And so it was with Jesus of Nazareth.

Harvey Cox, writes “Like the jester, Christ defies custom and scorns crowned heads. Like a wandering troubadour, he has no place to lay his head. Like the clown in the circus parade, he satirizes existing authority by riding into town replete with regal pageantry when he has no earthly power.”∥

Palm Sunday. Not quite 2000 years ago. Jerusalem.— remember the story:

Every year, Jews celebrate Passover as a reminder of their escape from slavery in Egypt. They remember the lash of Pharoah’s whip, the courage of Moses to speak truth to power, and divine intervention to lead them out of captivity.

In the time of Jesus, it was the custom for Jews to congregate in Jerusalem, site of the ancient Temple, to celebrate Passover. In the time of Jesus the land was occupied by the Roman Empire, giving the story of escape from oppression vivid meaning. In recent years there were riots, and in response the Roman authorities massed their armed forces to quash any rebellion.

In the week leading to Passover, from the west, from the capital city of Caesarea on the coast, the Roman Governor, Pilate, on his great steed, led a regal procession of cavalry and troops to Jerusalem to reinforce the garrison there. Picture the military splendor, the show of arms, the demonstration of brute force. Let Pilate’s message soak in: Don’t even think about an armed revolt.

Meanwhile, from the east, another procession approached Jerusalem. It looked rather foolish, a rag-tag collection of wanderers, common folks, fishermen. In the words of the Book of Mark: “As they drew near to Jerusalem…[Jesus] sent two of his disciples…into the village…” to borrow a donkey.∥ Consistent with the role of the Fool, Jesus was playing, making light of the comparison, mocking Pilate. “You arrive on your grand steed. I will arrive on mine. You arrive armed for battle. I arrive vulnerable, speaking the truth of God’s love.”

Mark records: “They brought the donkey to Jesus and threw their garments on it; and he sat upon it And many spread their garments on the road and others spread leafy branches which they had cut from the fields. And those who went before and those who followed cried out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the kingdom…that is coming. Hosanna in the highest!”∥

It was a flagrantly foolish extravaganza.

As Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan write, “The contrast is clear: Jesus versus Pilate, the nonviolence of the kingdom of God versus the violence of empire. Two arrivals, two entrances, two processions — and … Christian Lent is about repentance for being in the wrong one and preparation to abandon it for its alternative.”∥

Jesus the Fool, offers a new way. It is a story whose power grows through history.“[He] went to the capital city of his people to confront Roman imperial power and religious collaboration with it.”∥ He rode on a donkey and wore the garments of a foolish king. He turned over the tables and chased the money changers out of the Temple. Such Foolish behavior!

And we, almost 2000 years later, each one of us, within our mind and our heart, struggle with the tension between the two processions. We were raised to believe in freedom and justice, and that our nation stands on the side of the righteous. Then: lies and deceit, convenient losses of memory, bullish pride, armed forces proceeding to reinforce the garrisons of Middle East imperial forces. My friends, we need a clear-sighted Holy Fool to break open our stubborn arrogance, that we may see this procession for what it is, and choose to abandon it for the alternative.

Another Middle Eastern Holy Fool, Jelaluddin Rumi, says “Start a huge, foolish project, like Noah. It makes absolutely no difference what people think of you.∥

Join a new procession.
Start a huge, foolish project, within your mind, within your heart.
Become the Holy Fool you were meant to be.

Ask: Who is the fool within me wanting to be seen and heard?
What creative impulse is waiting for me to give it expression?

Cecil Collins wrote, “The Saint, the artist, the poet, the Fool are one. They are the eternal … spirit, which in the …[dreary] winter of the world, continually proclaim the existence of new life, giving faithful promise of the spring of an invisible kingdom, and the coming of [a new day].”∥

What’s the message beneath all the foolish drama?
Try this one:
To be at one; to be at peace:

to notice the blossom, how it bobs in the breeze…
the early morning moisture on petals,
connecting air and water,
with light fragrance,
sweet oneness,
here and everywhere.

Be quiet — quietly be.

Breathing in, taking in, accepting, welcoming nurture;
breathing out, offering, reaching, giving nurture away:

One with the flow of living
finding my home in giving…
saying “No” to all that separates perception from ecstasy…

walking slowly
lifting, shifting, moving, ease fully…
opening to the gift of each moment.

Holy Fool Jesus says “do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on.” Relax. “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin.”∥

But is it realistic, on this Palm Sunday, to expect that we will reject the imperial path with its focus on ever-growing control, on wealth, and comfort? The lure of security is seductive, and it grows from our deep-seated, exaggerated fears.

Will we open ourselves to the beauty of the moment, and choose the procession of creativity? This foolish being-in-the-moment may not get support from our families, and friends and communities.

We may have tried it before.
Perhaps it was taught, or even punished out of us…
this freedom of the spirit,
this expression of the heart…
this wild roaming, interrupting, erupting cry of creativity.

I don’t paint.
At a clergy gathering last week I picked up a paint brush, and, wham, bang,
there were mountains and flowers and
red lips speaking heart messages to waiting ears;
Expressions of what nourishes, sustains, and renews me.

And then at Thursday night worship I heard,
“You can remember every flower you have ever seen.”

And I do remember a particular light purple blue iris…
oh, and yellow and blue Grandmother pansies…

and African violets.

I’ve lain in a lair of lupine.

I’ve glanced then gazed at a group of glorious golden poppies.

I’ve seen red poinsettias through a bank of golden candle light.

I take into my heart this beauty, this reminder, this invitation

to breathe deeply, to be at one; to be at peace.

I do not want foolishness in order to escape the world,
I want to be able to live here in astonishment.

I do not want to deny pain and the knowledge of death.
Holy Week in the Christian calendar,
moves from Jesus entering Jerusalem,
to Good Friday, and the hill of Golgatha, where he is crucified.

In the midst of death
I want to be able to praise life,
to remember Albert Camus’ message:

“What does it truly matter what I’ve lost,
when what I have is not used up.
There are so many things susceptible of being loved
that surely no discouragement can be final.
To know how to suffer, to know how to love,
and when everything collapses,
to pick it all up once again…”∥

No discouragement is final.
So much is longing to be loved.

I want the freedom to breathe out frustration, anger, upset,
to let go of old hurts and disappointments,
to see the budding promise of tight petals
ready to burst beauty into my consciousness.

I remember, last week, on this table
Birds of Paradise,
the glory of brightness and beauty
almost taking to the air, inviting a journey,
lifting my spirit

And, today,
The wild yellow thorn less rose
weaves it’s way through geranium greens
and fernlike branches,
offering tiny sweet pink blossoms.
It is a reminder of the springtime of the spirit
waiting to be reborn.

When I remember the beauty,
when I open my eyes and breathe deeply,
I know again the deep connection of all.
Peace fills me and I am at one.

Then, with hope and commitment I can say,
“Now, now let’s have that meeting,
now let’s plan the budget,
now let’s turn the world around…”

With the reminder of beauty,
with peace in your heart,
turn to your family, your friends,
to those with whom you toil and play,
and take the first step in a new procession.
May it be a dance.

Rumi is the most read poet in America.
He is also remembered as the founder of the
Whirling Dervishes,

Holy Fools
chanting and spinning their way to awakening,
calling us back to the essential goodness within each of us,
inviting us to join the dance of life.

Look at the fools… they dance,
And they dream, and they fall, and they bleed,
and they get right up and dance [again]

Is that what it means to be free?

Dancing with the fools;
could it be I’m choosing life?∥  ♦