What, exactly, does Aladdin have to do with Palm Sunday?
My brother recently gave us access to his Disney+ account, which was such a gift in the middle of a self isolation week when Gideon slept particularly badly and I was not at my best. So, looking after 3 little ones stuck at home, we've had a lot more screen time than usual. I'm enjoying catching up on watching the live action remakes of the Disney classics that I'd previously missed. Aladdin was up first, and while I'm not convinced Will Smith, much as I love him, could I've up to the legacy of Robin Williams as the genie, it was good fun.
The scene with Prince Ali arriving into Agraba with his huge, elaborate procession reminded me of Jesus and his triumphal entry into Jerusalem the final week before he was killed. The people have been waiting for him to finally make his move, to come out of the backwater towns and villages, and finally throw himself upon the big city and kick out the oppressors. Might this be the Messiah they had been waiting for? They heard he was coming, and so they got themselves ready for action, palm branches at the ready. Two hundred years before, Judas Maccabees had risen up with his supporters to challenge the oppression the people of God we're living under, and they had responded with great energy, rushing to his cause, waving their palms. Here they were again, ready for action, palms in the celebration-filled air.
Except, Jesus did not come on an elephant. No fancy turban, belly dancing ladies, no genie.
Prince Ali was, under all the elaborate display, still the same guy off the street.
And Jesus, on his borrowed donkey colt, was king of kings.
Yet, we are so ready to believe what we see, to trust our eyes and miss what is going on beneath the surface.
Jesus was entering in to Jerusalem to bring about his world transforming revolution, but the people missed it because it wasn't how they wanted it to look.
Have you ever wondered how there was such a quick turn around between the excited adoration on Palm Sunday, and the devastating betrayal and crucifixion on Good Friday? The people weren't worshipping Jesus for who he really was, they were excited about who they thought he was, what they thought he had come to do. And when it looked different than they wanted, they felt betrayed. Let down. Like they'd come along for the ride and found out they'd ended up somewhere entirely different than they thought they were going.
I wonder, whether we get disappointed with God? If he doesn't do the things we want him to do, the things we thought he was supposed to do. If this life doesn't look how it was going to, if things aren't following the plan. If God isn't answering the prayers we've been asking for years now. If we've just run out of patience with God not being who we thought he should be.
And I wonder, if maybe what we saw of God before, that image we had, wasn't in fact the whole picture. If God might have after all being trying to do something different. Maybe even better than the thing we had in mind. I wonder, if he stands, hand outstretched to us, inviting us to look into his eyes, asking, 'do you trust me?', waiting to show us a whole new world.
The scene with Prince Ali arriving into Agraba with his huge, elaborate procession reminded me of Jesus and his triumphal entry into Jerusalem the final week before he was killed. The people have been waiting for him to finally make his move, to come out of the backwater towns and villages, and finally throw himself upon the big city and kick out the oppressors. Might this be the Messiah they had been waiting for? They heard he was coming, and so they got themselves ready for action, palm branches at the ready. Two hundred years before, Judas Maccabees had risen up with his supporters to challenge the oppression the people of God we're living under, and they had responded with great energy, rushing to his cause, waving their palms. Here they were again, ready for action, palms in the celebration-filled air.
Prince Ali was, under all the elaborate display, still the same guy off the street.
And Jesus, on his borrowed donkey colt, was king of kings.
Yet, we are so ready to believe what we see, to trust our eyes and miss what is going on beneath the surface.
Have you ever wondered how there was such a quick turn around between the excited adoration on Palm Sunday, and the devastating betrayal and crucifixion on Good Friday? The people weren't worshipping Jesus for who he really was, they were excited about who they thought he was, what they thought he had come to do. And when it looked different than they wanted, they felt betrayed. Let down. Like they'd come along for the ride and found out they'd ended up somewhere entirely different than they thought they were going.
I wonder, whether we get disappointed with God? If he doesn't do the things we want him to do, the things we thought he was supposed to do. If this life doesn't look how it was going to, if things aren't following the plan. If God isn't answering the prayers we've been asking for years now. If we've just run out of patience with God not being who we thought he should be.
And I wonder, if maybe what we saw of God before, that image we had, wasn't in fact the whole picture. If God might have after all being trying to do something different. Maybe even better than the thing we had in mind. I wonder, if he stands, hand outstretched to us, inviting us to look into his eyes, asking, 'do you trust me?', waiting to show us a whole new world.
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