Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
What Would Jesus Do?
Luke 19.29-44
9 April 2017, NL3-31,
Palm Sunday (are you all in?)
Today’s scripture
reading is from the gospel according to Luke, chapter 19, beginning at verse
29, and can be found on page ___ of your pew Bible if you wish to follow along.
For many weeks now, we
have been walking with Jesus as he set his face toward Jerusalem. Jerusalem
was, and still is, the most important city for the Jews. It was home to around
500,000 people, contained palaces for the king and for the Roman officials who
might need to visit to keep order, and of course the Temple was there, at the
city’s highest point. Jerusalem is so important that one always goes “up” to
Jerusalem, and “down” from Jerusalem, no matter the direction one is traveling.
In today’s reading we find Jesus east of the city, approaching the Mount of
Olives (which is of similar elevation as the Temple Mount), on his way up to
Jerusalem for the final week of his earthly ministry.
…
When he had come near
Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of
the disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it
you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring
it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?” just say this: “The Lord
needs it.” ’ So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them.
As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, ‘Why are you untying the
colt?’ They said, ‘The Lord needs it.’ Then they brought it to Jesus; and after
throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along,
people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the
path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began
to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they
had seen, saying,
‘Blessed is the king
who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven,
and glory in the highest heaven!’
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’
As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.’
‘Blessed is the king
who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven,
and glory in the highest heaven!’
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’
As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.’
Try for a moment to
picture the scene of that first Palm Sunday, as Luke tells it. What do you
notice happening? (multitude of disciples…no Hosannas, no palms…stones shouting
out…praising God for all the deeds of power they had seen)
The last parade I
attended was the Cubs World Series victory parade—which was amazing, with
energy and cheering and singing. My friends and I made early morning guesses
about how many times we would hear the song “Go Cubs Go” and then we kept a
count throughout the day. There were throngs of people, and they really did
seemingly spontaneously burst into song.
Palm Sunday wasn’t
exactly a victory parade, though. The Roman empire was well known for victory
marches, and some scholars even say that it’s likely Pilate arrived in
Jerusalem with a show of strength around the same time Jesus arrived riding on
a donkey. The Palm Sunday procession was more of a protest march than a victory
parade, intentionally different from what Pilate or the Emperor would have done.
So I think back to protests I’ve attended over the years—to the women’s march a
few months ago, for instance—and how multitudes of people moved through the
streets, sometimes chanting rhymes that became something of a mantra, and
sometimes just chatting to each other along the way about things that are
important enough to draw us out of our comfortable beds and into the crowded
streets.
Each of those
experiences in the streets of Chicago were very different. The atmosphere and
the sense of purpose in the group were clear both times, one a long-awaited
celebration, the other a day of passionate concern.
Twice, I have visited
Jerusalem and walked the path down from the Mount of Olives, and up to
Jerusalem and its Temple. Both times, I happened to walk that street right
behind a large group of Israeli soldiers, in army uniforms and carrying large
weapons. To say it was jarring to read the story of the Prince of Peace while
walking behind a dozen rifle-carrying soldiers would be an understatement.
That’s now the image I have in my mind when I picture the scene…and I wonder
what would have happened, if those who ordered Jesus to silence his disciples
had that kind of backup when he refused.
Everyone in the city
would have known what they were seeing. From the very beginning, Jesus has said
that today, in our hearing, while we are together in his presence, scripture is
being fulfilled. He found a donkey colt and so even more scripture was
fulfilled—that the Messiah would enter the holy city riding on a donkey. People
around him were chanting and singing “blessed is the king who comes in the name
of the Lord” and talking about all the miracles and healings and teaching he
had done. No one could have missed the meaning behind this protest, especially
at a time when the Empire was sweeping into the city with their own display of
power and might, their own understanding of keeping the peace.
So the Pharisees ordered
him to stop it. It’s dangerous to be part of a crowd in these days, and this
crowd looks an awful lot like treason, with words like “peace” and “king”
ringing off the stone walls of the city. But Jesus knows there is no way to
stop the good news, because God is able from these stones to raise up children
for Abraham. God’s voice will be heard, even if the stones themselves have to
do the shouting. The ground itself cries out for justice and for peace, for an
end to bloodshed and fear, for a world of hope and love, where scripture is
fulfilled and the blind see, the lame walk, the deaf hear, and the poor are
lifted up in the year of jubilee.
Jesus knows that the
power of the Empire is the power of violence, which relies on silencing the
voices of the other—voices of the oppressed, voices of dissent, voices of pain
or grief. That was never more true than in the act of crucifixion—a
torture designed to be so shameful that the one facing it would be left to
decompose and his family would never speak of him again. Crosses lined the
roads of the Roman Empire, testament to the power of violence.
But Jesus refused to give violence that power. Even if
everyone else’s voice is cut off, God’s will still speak—through stones if
necessary.
And Jesus knows it will be necessary. He knows the day is
coming when even his most fervent supporters and closest disciples will fall
silent under the weight of fear and betrayal. He sees that so many of us will
choose being peace lovers rather than peace makers, as the quote on the
bulletin says. We will say the words, but we can’t seem to see our way to the
work of peace. We too fall silent, for many personal reasons ranging from party
loyalty to fear of retribution to belief that we can’t make a difference and
everything in between, and our silence is what gives the empire its power to
enforce its own version of peace through violence.
And Jesus wept over Jerusalem, looking across the valley at
the Temple, at the thousands of residents and pilgrims, at the multitudes of
disciples cheering around him and the Pharisees with their angry and scared
faces… “if you had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace.”
If only we could see what Jesus sees, and understand his teaching and his life
and his path…if only we could walk the way, the truth, and the life.
I can imagine Jesus’ tear-streaked face today, looking
across the world at all the ways we have openly decided not to care for each
other, the ways we have made war as if it will lead to peace, the ways we have
believed that peace can exist without justice or hope, the ways we have turned
inward seeking our own security and left God’s creation and God’s children to
fend for themselves. God’s heart breaks in Syria, in Yemen, in the Sudan, in
Palestine, in Colombia, in Mexico, in the halls of our shockingly segregated
schools and prisons, in Egypt. I hear Jesus’ voice, thick with emotion and
maybe shaking a little with sobs: “if you had only recognized the things that
make for peace.” And I think of all the pretty words I’ve said, the hymns we
sing and the token offerings we make, and I wonder: what are the things that
make for real peace? What would it take for us to be peacemakers, not just
peace lovers?
Kierkegaard wrote that many of us have fallen into the trap
of admiring Jesus, like fans on the roadside during a parade, rather than
following Jesus[1].
We aren’t called to be just fans, like of our favorite team or band. We’re
called to follow—to walk in Jesus’ footsteps, to do what he did. To be a
disciple is to pattern our lives on the one we trust, not only to think his
teaching is good and important. The word disciple comes from the word
discipline—to follow Jesus is a discipline, a practice, of trying to be like
him. Kierkegaard wrote that admirers remain detached, not seeing that the thing
we admire has a claim on us, and so we fail to become like what we admire. The
fan uses plenty of words about how they love and treasure Jesus and his
teaching…but it never reaches beyond words. The follower, though, tries with
all their heart to be like Jesus, even if that means changing behavior or
activity or life.
On that first Palm Sunday, there were plenty of fans, lots
of admirers. And some naysayers, of course, who were at least open about their
desire to silence the living Word. The trouble is that fans want silence too,
as soon as the Word begins to speak about things that challenge their own
beliefs, security, or plans. They’re just sneakier about how they seek that
silence, using the threat of waning popularity or safety or money as their
preferred tool. Remember that even the fans mostly deserted Jesus or turned
against him as that first Holy Week went on and his challenge to the government
and religious leaders became more clear. But the stones will still shout, no
matter how silence is achieved. God has things to say, and they are things we
need to hear, to see, to recognize—about peace and justice, love and grace,
hope for the future, passion for the kingdom of God to come here on earth as it
is in heaven.
As we enter this holiest of weeks, I encourage you to listen
for what the stones are saying. As we walk this journey to Jerusalem, consider
whether we do so as fans, or as followers. As a Holy Week practice, I think we
should ask ourselves frequently “what would Jesus do?” It sounds cheesy, but it
is as relevant a question as ever. When reading or hearing a news story, ask
“what would Jesus do?” When we see a neighbor, or a co-worker, or another
driver on the expressway, ask “what would Jesus do?” When we come to church, or
read our email, or get out our offering envelopes, ask “what would Jesus do?” In
small moments and big decisions, there’s the question: how would Jesus see
this? how would he respond? what words or feelings or actions or prayers or
offering or gesture would be most like Christ?
And then…here’s the catch. Try to do what he would do. After
two seasons of reading Luke’s gospel straight through, we know Jesus’ mission:
to feed, to free, to heal, to lift up, and to change the system that keeps
people down. This can be the day that we recognize the things that make for
peace—and not just that we see them, but that we do them. We can work to make
our behavior line up with the pattern he set with his life, death, and
resurrection. This Holy Week we will learn yet again that violence can never
drive out violence, death can never drive out death, hate can never drive out
hate, apathy can never drive out apathy, fear can never drive out fear…only love can do that.
May we be all in with Jesus.
Amen.
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