Hilton Head Island, SC – March 25, 2018
The Chapel Without Walls
Luke 19-28-40; Luke 19:41-46
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – And some of the Pharisees said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent the very stones would cry out.” – Luke 19:39-40 (RSV)
This is the fifth in a six-part series of sermons on the courageous journey Jesus took with his disciples on the way from the Galilee to Jerusalem. Normally that walk would take perhaps a week to ten days, depending on where Jesus was when he began his trek to the south. But, according to Luke’s Gospel, we may deduce that the journey took a few weeks to perhaps two or three months. We deduce that because the expedition begins at the end of the ninth chapter of Luke’s Gospel and ends in the middle of the nineteenth chapter. Nearly everything Luke writes about in that portion of his story of the life of Jesus is found only in Luke, and nowhere else in any of the other three Gospels.
Last week we considered the story of Zaccheus, the tax collector from Jericho. That is the first episode in Luke, Chapter 19. After that, Jesus told a parable that is similar to, and yet different from, parables that are found in Matthew (25:14 ff.) and Mark 13:32 ff.). In Luke the parable of the three stewards has a much more biting ending. It seems to hint that Jesus knew his life would soon come to a painful end, and he was internally greatly agitated because of it.
The closer Jesus got to the holy city, the more he was reminded of the bitter finale he feared awaited him there. But he refused to turn or flee because of his growing dread. He had said things and done things he knew created deep animosity toward him, but he also was convinced God wanted him to do what he had done. Therefore he strode on, prepared for whatever would meet him in Yerushalayim, the City of Peace. Perhaps Jesus wondered if Jerusalem might surprise him with peace instead of the execution which he ultimately experienced.
Luke, chapter 19:28 to the end of the chapter, is the account of what happened on Palm Sunday. It is obvious from reading the first few verses of the story that Jesus had previously contemplated what might happen when he got to Jerusalem. Matthew and Mark wrote essentially the same thing: Jesus told a couple of the disciples to go to a certain place where they would find a man with a donkey. The man would let them take the sturdy little animal for Jesus’ use. Apparently Jesus had somehow already made arrangements with this man to do this.
Again, we may legitimately make a plausible deduction here. What Christians have called “the Palm Sunday Processional” didn’t just happen spontaneously. It was carefully planned. And it was planned by none other than Jesus himself.
Why? Why would Jesus do that? Doesn’t it seem self-serving for him to organize a parade in his honor? Might it not be considered a display of uncharacteristic hubris from a man who theretofore had acted with constant humility?
In part, this sermon is an attempt to try to enter into Jesus’ mind as he approached the Mount of Olives from the east. Once he came around the southern shoulder of the ridge, there it would be laid out before him, Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blessed, and the hymn says. And what would happen then?
From time to time in the Galilean ministry, someone here or there voiced the notion that Jesus must be the long-awaited Messiah. Nothing in any of the four Gospels clearly states that Jesus thought that of himself. But now that he was on the last lap of this long, slow journey, Jesus wondered to himself: Could he be God’s Anointed One? He didn’t know, or at least I think he didn’t know, but he wondered if it might be true. And if he entered the holy city in a way that only he could orchestrate, he might get at least a glimmer of that potential truth.
John doesn’t say anything about Jesus asking the disciples to find a donkey for him to ride, but he clearly insists that is what he rode. John further notes that the whole scene was reminiscent of a verse from the prophet Zechariah about an unnamed king riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. Matthew also recites that verse from Zechariah, but he says that Jesus asked the disciples to find “a donkey and its colt.” Matthew implies Jesus sat on both of the animals, which surely could not be easily done, if done at all. Mark says that Jesus rode a colt, though he does not specify whether it was young horse or a young donkey.
From these discrepancies we may conclude that whatever kind of animal Jesus rode into town on, it was a small one. Donkeys are little. Colts are little. It would be like riding a Great Dane; one could do it, perhaps, but one would need to be very small, and the Great Dane would need to be very strong, and would likely strongly object to being ridden by a man, even a small one.
So why do the Gospel writers go into such detail about something that doesn’t seem to matter? It is because it does matter! It mattered a great deal to Jesus, and it also should matter to us. You see, Jesus was making a very deliberate but unspoken statement by his choice of the animal he rode. It was little, whether it was a donkey or a young horse. Jesus did not want anyone to assume he was riding into the Holy City of God as a warrior. He came in peace. Donkeys or colts are peaceful little creatures. They are not big or bold or brash, like war horses.
So, to return to what may have been in Jesus’ mind when he carefully arranged his entrance into the Jerusalem, he wanted to see if anyone might perceive him to be the Messiah of Peace rather than the Messiah of War. Would they see Jesus as God’s Anointed who was proclaiming God’s peaceable kingdom on earth and not some temporal political/military kingdom?
What Jesus hoped is exactly what happened. Many people hailed him as God’s Messiah, but they also recognized that he was not the type of Messiah who was widely expected during that particular time in history. Then, most Jews longed for a political Messiah, a great soldier. No one could mistake a man riding on a donkey to be that kind of a military-political figure.
In fact, it very doubtful they waved palm branches on Palm Sunday, because there are no palm trees that grow naturally in Jerusalem. The synoptic writers merely tell of “branches” or “leafy branches.” But the tradition of two thousand years calls this “Palm Sunday,” not Leafy Branch Sunday,” so Palm Sunday it is, whether or not that is what it was.
Matthew speaks of “crowds” (plural). John refers to a “crowd” (singular). Luke says there was a “multitude.” Mark just says there were “many” people. Scholars vary widely in their estimates of the numbers, from as few as twenty or thirty to as many as five hundred or a thousand. Whatever was the actual number, their hosannas and shout of praise indicate that for them, Jesus of Nazareth was the personification of God’s promised specially anointed messenger. Luke described the acclamation by writing that the “multitude” shouted, “Blessed be the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest!”
Jesus had never experienced anything like that before. There were times when individuals or small groups had affirmed him as being a gift from God, God-inspired, called by God. But never had a large number of people at one time seen him in that light. That was what made Palm Sunday so special to Jesus. It was what convinced Jesus beyond any doubt that God had given him a unique role in human history, not only for Jews, but for all people. And that is why Palm Sunday was the most majestic day in Jesus’ entire life. Because of the throng who went with him into Jerusalem, he felt empowered to face whatever lay ahead of him, even his execution, if that was where this all was leading him.
At a time when Jesus felt heightened stress and uncertainty, he longed for an undeniable affirmation. Any of us in that situation would want that. We would need it in order to be able to go forward. Jesus needed it in order to confront what faced him during the rest of Holy Week. The acclaim of the Palm Sunday crowd enabled Jesus to face his enemies with renewed confidence. In their hosannas Jesus sensed the very voice of God also ringing in his ears.
The appearance of the Messiah in the holy city could have meaning only for Jews. No other people held a cultural conviction that God would anoint a special man to be His monarch sent into the world to transform it with divinely-appointed power.
For all of Lent we have been following the account of Luke regarding the journey of Jesus on his way to his destiny in Jerusalem. Luke was a Gentile. He did not see Palm Sunday exactly as the other three Gospel writers, all of whom were Jews, saw it. He couldn’t. But in being swept into the excitement and exhilaration of having been told by someone about Palm Sunday, in effect Luke became like a messianic Jew, just by having become a Christian.
Luke gives us a detail that none of the other writers provides. He wrote, “And some of the Pharisees in the multitude said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples!’” They were upset that Jesus would allow such a demonstration. They believed it was sacrilegiously inappropriate. Luke has Jesus defiantly answering them, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out!”
Jerusalem is a city of stone. It is set on top of mountain ridges of limestone and sandstone rock. All the buildings in the city are constructed of stone. There are no bricks or wood siding to be seen there. The walls of the Temple Mount, built by King Herod I a generation before the time of Jesus, are huge stone ashlars, perfectly cut and set in place, each of them weighing many tons apiece, some of them thirty feet long and five feet high and five feet wide. “I tell you,” said Jesus, “if this crowd was silent, the very stones themselves would shout out in acclaim!” The primordial rock beneath their feet, the glistening stones of the great buildings and the houses and the temple itself, would raise their voices in praise, Jesus declared to his theological adversaries.
From Luke’s account, it can be reliably deduced that the Palm Sunday processional must have proceeded down the west side of the Mount of Olives into the deep Kidron Valley, which runs between the Mount of Olives and the Temple Mount. Then Jesus and the disciples would have walked up the steep paths which led to the Temple Mount itself. There is a gate through the city wall on the south side of the huge temple platform, and another on the east side. Either way they went, Jesus would have been looking up at the platform upon which the temple itself stood. When Jesus saw that magnificent sight, he was suddenly overwhelmed by it.
Here is how Luke tells it: “And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace! But now they are hid from your eyes’” (19:41-42).
Jesus came into Jerusalem very consciously portraying that he was bringing peace, not war. The crowds who greeted him understood that, because of the kind of animal he rode. Later, totally unanticipated, Jesus was overcome by deep sorrow for the most holy city in the world.
Jesus had always been a keen observer of everything around him. His parables reflected his awareness of nature and agriculture and human interaction and social issues and political realities. Politically, Jesus also knew the Jews were in a very precarious condition. They had been under Roman occupation for over three-quarters of a century. Opposition to Rome was growing every year. Zealots were everywhere in the land of the Jews. They were Jews who wanted the violent overthrow of the Roman legionnaires who controlled their every move. One of Jesus’ disciples was called Simon the Zealot. Another, Judas Iscariot, may also have had zealot leanings.
Jesus sensed that warfare would break out sometime in the near future. When that happened, Jesus foresaw the complete destruction of the holy city. “For the days shall come upon you, when your enemies will cast up a bank around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side, and dash you to the ground, you and you children within you, and they will not leave one stone upon another in you, because you did not know the hour of your visitation” (19:43-44).
Forty years after Jesus uttered those prescient words, the Jews did rebel against Rome, and the Romans did crush them. Jerusalem was completely destroyed, the temple was burned and knocked down, and all the walls of the Temple Mount were flattened with the exception of the western wall. That is the one that Christians, but not Jews, call the Wailing Wall. To Jews the Western Wall is the most sacred place in Jerusalem, because it is the only remaining part of the original temple structure from the first century, before everything else was destroyed by the Romans. “And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it” (19:41).
It is a terrible thing to foresee or to observe the destruction of something that is greatly loved --- Carthage in the Punic Wars, Rome in the barbarian invasions, Berlin at the end of World War II. It is horrible to contemplate the death of a young man who detonated several bombs in the capital of Texas; a young man who walked into a school in southern Maryland, shot two students, and then was shot to death in response, a young man who walked into a school in south Florida and killed seventeen people and injured seventy-five, and then was captured without further bloodshed. Sorrow knows no bounds for the family members involved in such circumstances. When Jesus saw the majestic beauty of Jerusalem, he was stricken by profound grief, because he knew that all too soon it would be turned into a dust heap.
Besides being the most majestic in his life up to that point, Palm Sunday was also his most troubled day. Jerusalem the golden was to become Jerusalem the devastated. In light of everything else we have learned, only Luke writes about Jesus weeping over the holy city.
Late in his life, Jesus had begun to wonder whether God had anointed him as His Messiah. The enthusiasm of the crowd seemed to affirm both that notion and him as the focus of that notion. With hosannas resounding within him, Jesus was strengthened for the next five momentous days. But the sight of the city sent him into a sudden, sharp depression. Jews would be further injured and humiliated, and their hopes would be dashed against falling stones.
Exhilarated, and devastated, Jesus was ready for the next crucial events of his life, events which would lead him to a trial, a cross, a terrible death, and a resurrection from the tomb. No one, perhaps not even he, could imagine that. But it all was coming, and very soon.