Sermon 20130324
I want to talk about two processions today – and I’m
not talking about the KU Jayhawks and the Wichita Shockers paths to victory –
I’m talking about Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and the procession to
the cross.
The Jesus scholars Borg and Crossan give us a riveting
image with which to begin: there were the two processions that Passover week.
First set the context – what people did in Jerusalem to
mark the Passover.
In
the narrative of the Exodus, the Bible tells that God inflicted ten plagues upon the Egyptians before Pharaoh would release his Hebrew slaves,
with the tenth plague being the killing of all of the firstborn, from the
Pharaoh's son to the firstborn of the dungeon captive, to the firstborn of
cattle. The Hebrews were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with
the blood of a spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord passed
over these homes, hence the term "passover".[2] When Pharaoh freed the Hebrews, it
is said that they left in such a hurry that they could not wait for bread to
rise. In commemoration, for the duration of Passover, no leavened bread
is eaten, for which reason it is called "The Festival of the Unleavened
Bread".[3] Matza (unleavened bread) is the primary
symbol of the holiday. This bread that is flat and unrisen is called matzo.
Together
with Shavuot ("Pentecost") and Sukkot
("Tabernacles"), Passover is one of the three
pilgrimage festivals
(Shalosh Regalim) during which the entire Jewish populace historically
made a pilgrimage to the Temple
in Jerusalem.
From the west came Pilate draped in the gaudy glory of
imperial power: horses, chariots, and gleaming armor. He moved in with the
Roman army at the beginning of Passover week to make sure nothing got out of
hand.
Insurrection was in the air with the memory of God’s deliverance
of the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt.
From the east came another procession, a commoner’s
procession: Jesus in ordinary robe riding on a young donkey. The careful
preparations suggest that Jesus has planned a highly ritualized symbolic prophetic
act.
Luke has in mind the prophecy of Zechariah 9, the
coming of a new kind of king, a king of peace who will dismantle the weaponry
of war.
Fred Danker offers another perspective – that God comes
as a suffering servant in Jesus thus fulfilling the prophecy of Isaiah. God
comes in mercy to save his people. This God who comes in the flesh, first born
in a manger, then reading from the scriptures in the temple, then baptized,
calling disciples, healing, and allowing the blind to see and the deaf to hear,
and finally dying for the people. Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem begins a new
reality.
As Jesus enters, a “whole multitude of the disciples,”
throng around, spread their cloaks on the road – in essence creating a red
carpet with their coats patch by patch
, and lift loud their praise: “Blessed is the king who
comes in the name of the Lord.”
Then a couplet of praise is added: “Peace in heaven,
and glory in the highest heaven.”
This is more than a song of heavenly rest and hope in
the world to come.
It is about the “kingdom of the heavens,” as Matthew
called it,
which has drawn near in Jesus to challenge and change
the kingdoms of this world.
This “multitude” echoes the song of the “multitude of
the heavenly host” in Luke’s birth narrative: “Glory to God in the highest
heaven, and on earth peace” (2:13-14).
What kind of king? So we have a clash of kingdoms:
Caesar or Christ. Caesar’s kingdom is based on domination and ruthless power,
the kind of kingship Jesus refused when tempted in the wilderness.
The kingdom of God Jesus preached is based on justice,
mercy, and the love of God (Luke 11:42 and Matt. 23:23)
So we have our choice: Pax Christi or Pax Romana.
Our challenge is to show how the gospel of the kingdom
has political implications but transcends our everyday political loyalties.
The wild joy of the disciples heightens the drama and conflict
enters with the rebuke of the Pharisees. The throng of disciples cannot contain
themselves. We might think of David stripped to his loincloth dancing before
the ark of the Lord as it was brought to Jerusalem.
A group of Pharisees say to Jesus, “Order your
disciples to stop.”
Are they embarrassed by the wild, ecstatic praise?
Are they trying to warn Jesus of the danger of such a
demonstration?
Earlier in Luke, some Pharisees warn Jesus about Herod’s
murderous intent: “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you” (13:13).
Were they afraid that the Roman authorities would smell insurrection and come
with terrible vengeance against the nation? Probably. Were they worried about
their own hide? Probably.
Jesus’ answer: the stones will cry out! Luke’s gospel
alone records these thrilling, faith-filled words: “I tell you, if these were
silent, the stones would shout out.” Here is faith in the sure triumph of God.
There are several layers of meaning available in this phrase.
First, here is a truth too good to have its
mouth shut. It may be temporarily silenced, but not
for long.
Second, if disciples fall away by cowardice
or complacence, God will raise up more! As John the Baptist said
in his message by the Jordan: “God is able from these stones to raise up children
to Abraham” (Luke 3:8).
Third, here is an echo of the prophetic
warning of Habakuk 2:9-11. Injustice will not long prevail. The
very stones of the house built on corruption “will cry out from the wall.” This
meaning points to what will happen next in Luke. So we turn to verses 41-46.
The lament over Jerusalem and the cleansing of the
temple. Since the lectionary will skip to the passion reading, the preacher may
well close by including Jesus’ prophetic lament and the symbolic prophetic
action in the temple. This is where Jesus has been aiming.
His own offering of himself,
even to death on the cross,
must not be disassociated
from his prophetic challenge
to the ruling elite of his nation
who were betraying Torah
and God’s people.
God’s saving work on the cross and Jesus’ saving work
that led to the cross need not be pitted against one another. So here we have
the vivid scene of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, who would not recognize “the
things that make for peace.”
We have his warning of destruction to come: not one
stone left upon another.
Then we have Jesus driving the money changers from the
temple and saying, “It is written, ‘my house shall be a house of prayer’; but
you have made it a den of robbers.”
Jesus quotation from Jeremiah makes clear his challenge
to the nation’s leadership:
a call for righteousness and justice.
This is the role of faithful, religious people in any
time and any place. Don’t let Glenn Beck fool you into thinking that if your
church says, “social justice,” you should run the other way. Churches should be
concerned with social justice and engaged in a call for righteousness and
justice. Churches should care about the plight of the poor. The leadership of
nations are accountable to God. (but back to the gospel)
Join Immanuel for the rest of the week when we remember
moment by moment the night of Jesus’ betrayal, the pouring out of his body and
blood for our sin, and the commandment – mandatum – love one another. When we
remember his crucifixion and death for the sake of the world. When we remember
and are spell bound by the miracle of the empty tomb.
There are two processions, the imperial one watching to
make sure things don’t get out of hand, and then the simple one, that ushers in
a new way, a new truth, and a new life.
And we are spell bound. This is the one in whom we
hope. Every day, as Jesus taught in the temple, religious leaders kept trying
to find a way to kill him, but the people who heard him were “spellbound.”
They recognized in Jesus that he was the suffering
servant that Isaiah had been talking about all along.
The crowds that sang and waved palms and laid their
garments were still with him, still part of the kingdom movement Jesus brought.
Even us.
(source H. Stephen Shoemaker, Feasting on the Word.)
