You have arrived…

Primary Scripture Luke 19:29-44

As we have worked our way through Luke this winter and spring, we have had several opportunities to compare notes, so to speak, with the other gospel writers. We’ve seen places where Luke’s descriptions of Jesus’ ministry match up very closely with Mark’s and Matthew’s.  We’ve noted places where the parables or events were similar, but appear in a different order. And then we’ve paid attention to material that is unique to Luke.  

This week, as we remember the final week of the Messiah’s ministry and life, we will continue to focus on Luke’s telling of these events.  But the timeline would be very sparse if we counted solely on his witness. Like the other gospel storytellers, Luke comes to the story with a particular purpose and audience in mind. Both influence Luke’s determination for which details and conversations and events to include.   

For instance, Luke tells us that when they saw Jesus riding along on the borrowed donkey, people spread their cloaks on the road. No palm branches being waved.  No tree branches of any sort. Not even a sycamore branch in honor of Zaccheus.

We expect them, even though the palms only appear in John’s gospel – launching thousands warnings to young children and choirs about the dangers of palm fronds near other people’s eyes.  And just for the record… even John doesn’t tell us that children were the ones singing and waving palms. That tradition came much later.

No, Luke’s parade starts with cloaks on the donkey and continues on the road where he passes. And the farther he goes down the road, the more vocal the crowd got.

It must have been like the storms that roll through on a summer afternoon… the kind you can hear coming down the street… first it’s the drops on the sidewalk and then windows and roof, just loud enough to hear.

That would be the murmuring of the crowd as they turned from the road to the person beside them, pointing and half-whispering, “Yes, it’s him, Jesus.  The one from Nazareth.”   

Then the stories begin. And in the same way the rain becomes a steady pulsing beat as the drops grow heavier and more densely packed, with each testimony, the joy and excitement mounts until the shouts of praise ring out like peals of thunder!

Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!

Where are our Hosannas, you ask? Oh yes, John, Mark and Matthew include them… But Luke must have assumed that his people would know the story well enough to fill in that gap. Like we did with the palms.

But even without the Hosannas, Luke is referring to some pretty powerful, pretty cosmic stuff. On the night Jesus was born, his arrival was announced to the shepherds by a different multitude:  

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”  (2:13-14)

It was a boisterous, joyful announcement. It may have echoed off the hills like thunder.

And now this second multitude was singing and borrowing the words of the angels:
Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!

We don’t know exactly who they were… this multitude, but there were clearly more than the usual people around. Certainly it would have included the twelve, the ones we are most familiar with, the ones Jesus was closest to.

But others have seen his deeds of power, too…  some experiencing that power directly.

Zaccheus and the blind beggar might have followed him through the mountains from Jericho.  After all, Jesus had just spent the night at Zaccheus’ house.

There were all those women, forgiven, healed, seen and heard — maybe for the first time in their lives experiencing true love and compassion. Knowing that they were the first on the scene in the garden on resurrection day, we can trust that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James were among the followers singing and crying out that day.

I wonder if the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet at Simon’s party… you know, the one known only as a sinner?… I wonder if she followed him to Jerusalem, or the woman who was cured of her twelve years of hemorrhaging when she touched Jesus’ cloak… Perhaps her cloak was among those in the street.

Jairus may have come, maybe even at his daughter’s insistence. After all it was Jesus who said to her, “Little sister, wake up”

Was there a tall and regal looking woman who had once been stooped over?  

Were there lepers whose skin had cleared and people unable to stand still after being healed of paralysis?  

We don’t know… but we do know this: multitudes sang his praises, longed to see him made King, and were painfully aware of the dangers they were in.And yet they persisted in their celebration… because they had seen it. They knew the glory of the Lord as it had been revealed in the person of Jesus.

And they would not be silent.  

Not when it became clear that they were not alone. That they were part of this multitude of people, all of whom had lived on the edges, in the margins, all of whom had been transformed.

The kingdom of God was near.
Salvation had come to them.
In the form of a man riding on the back of a donkey.

And with or without tree branches or palm fronds, the people were loudly and proudly honoring him.

They were treating him like royalty. Not that Jesus was entering Jerusalem like a king or prince. That would have looked very different.

These people would have been familiar with the spectacle of Roman military parades.  Not only in Jerusalem but anywhere the empire wished to remind its subjects of its power over them.

Or the processions of the various rulers set in place by the emperor, each empowered and expected (and probably more than happy) to maintain a sense of being set apart, set above the rabble.  

Not too high, mind you… otherwise they run the risk of …. Well, the very same risks that Jesus was taking in allowing the people to refer to him as king.

While Jesus is willing to deal with the consequences, there are some among the religious leaders in Jerusalem who are definitely not.  They are horrified by the prospect of the crowd drawing too much attention to Jesus, too much attention to the Jews.  They are more than a little scared for the lives of their people.  Not to mention their own lives!  

Shh… can’t you get them to be quiet?  I mean, what in the world, man?!  These are your followers, make them stop!

He couldn’t…
He wouldn’t…
And even if he did… the rocks would cry out.

Because this was so much bigger than church politics.
Bigger than the convoluted relationship between the church and state
Bigger than the challenges of being an oppressed people

Jesus arrival in Jerusalem is a divine visitation.  
This is God with us. Being with us.
This is the Word of God for the people of God.  Among the people of God.
And what has been seen cannot be unseen
What has been done and experienced, must be told and retold.

In Jesus, these people have experienced the reconciling work of the priest, they have heard the teaching of the prophet, and now they are ready to see the power of the King.

They have waited for one who would pick up the thread, who would return to the House of David and begin to reign again. They don’t need the powerful in the church to tell them where Jesus got the power to heal and transform. They already know. And they are ready to follow him.

John the Baptist had said it would be so back in Luke 3. When religious leaders claimed their special inheritance, said that they were in with God based solely on their lineage, John told them that repentance wasn’t optional and inheritance wasn’t guaranteed. And he said, “I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

Plain old rocks, nothing special… made heirs to God.
And now, those stones had come to life!

People who had been treated like nobodies:
The sinners and the tax collectors
The blind and the lame
The unclean and worthless…
Today they were walking and shouting like somebodies!

It was glorious.
And Jesus was all for it.

No way was he shutting this down.

And yet, he had to have known.  After all, he had been predicting it for years, though more frequently as they approached the Jerusalem.

This was the beginning of the end.

And the reality of what that meant for Jesus was almost secondary to the truth that Jerusalem, the very heart of the people of Israel, would turn from a scene of triumph to a place of rejection. There would be no peace for Jesus in Jerusalem.

And he knew that Jerusalem would not experience peace either.

Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who offered the very peace for which all of humanity hungers had no words of comfort: And make no mistake, he felt no comfort in these hard words…

After all, As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it.
And he said “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!”

The day will come when you are surrounded and besieged.
You will be crushed, and not a stone will be left on stone.

“…because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

On a day when so many people saw him – recognized the Lord in him – Jesus knew it would not last.  Because not everyone saw him… really saw the truth of him.

Not everyone was ready to follow his way of loving God and loving neighbors. Some found his popularity as distressing as his theology. Others were bound by law to assure that there were no threats – even small ones – to the powers of Rome.

And so the very stones that had come together to praise Jesus, they would be the ones that suffered.

There would come a time of destruction, when the Temple that stood proudly would be torn down, stone by stone. People would be scattered – physically and spiritually.

The stones would be weeping. Out of pain, grief, and fear.

And that, my friends, is the bittersweet truth of life, even now. Even as we experience joy, even as we have moments of quiet, even as we hold onto the glimmers of hope in our hearts, we don’t know lasting peace.

Not as a community,
not as a nation.
Not as a species.   

We humans are a violent lot

We can’t go a week without news of airstrikes, chemical weapons, arms races being reignited
We can’t go a week without shootings, bomb threats, and beatings
We can’t go a week without arguments between spouses that escalate into fist fights, children being harmed by parents.
We can’t go a week without someone seeing no other way out than harming themselves.
We can’t go a week without using our words, our relationships  and our influence to tear down someone else.

We humans are a violent lot

I suspect that as we begin this holy week, Jesus weeps still. Not just for Jerusalem, but for the hearts of his people everywhere. Because we can’t place the blame – at least not solely –  on the people here and around the world who don’t know Jesus.

I have to believe that the God in Jesus who wept at the thought of Jerusalem’s destruction, weeps whenever we choose to be a destructive force in the world.

And I have to believe that the God in Jesus, who is at work in and through us, would weep with joy to see us repent.

God in Jesus – would weep with joy to see us – each of us and all of us – re-oriented to the peace we are offered in the way of living that Jesus taught.

Confessing, repenting, choosing to follow again.

Then, and only then are we likely to hear the words “You have arrived at your destination.”

 

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