"Faces In The Crowd"
Luke 19:28-40
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Reverend Dr. Deborah K. Meinke
All kinds of faces appear in the crowd on Palm
Sunday. The followers of Jesus, a crowd of disciples (not just
the 12), women, curious strangers who had heard stories of Jesus,
sightseers at Passover time, children who love the excitement of a
parade, revolutionaries poised to throw Rome out of Jerusalem, all
kinds of people. Like a magnifying glass that focuses the sun’s
rays and can start a fire, Jesus is the focus of enormous hope and
probable danger, for Passover time always brought new hope that God
would act on Israel’s behalf and fear that common ordinary Jews would
rise up to reclaim their city, confident that God is on their side.
This Palm Sunday parade was not an impromptu
outpouring of support for the popular Jesus, but a well-orchestrated
beginning to a week of high drama. Holy or Passion Week is the
week when Jesus’ passion for the life-giving kingdom of God collides
spectacularly with the deadly kingdom of Rome. Jesus had planned
his entrance carefully, which is the deeper meaning behind the precise
instructions he gave to his disciples about bringing the donkey.
A donkey is hardly the vehicle of choice for a victorious hero arriving
for an important ceremony. Donkeys are humble beasts of burden
used in the ordinary tasks of daily village life. One would never
ride a donkey off to war but a great stallion. Of course, that is
precisely the point Jesus makes with his ‘grand’ entrance. He is
the king who comes in peace, who puts into practice prophet Zechariah’s
words “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zech.
9:9) He is the one to restore God’s reign, allow God’s people to
turn swords into plowshares, sit under their own vines, and enjoy the
tranquil life of farmers with abundant harvests.
The crowd affirms his message of peace – of
wholeness and restoration – that Jesus enacts in front of their
eyes. The people remove their cloaks, their status symbols of
rank and privilege, to cushion his ride and signal their understanding
and hope. Jesus will do the same on Thursday; he will remove his
cloak in order to wash the disciples’ feet. The disciples cry out
with praise for the signs of God’s kingdom they have already witnessed
on the road with Jesus – the people healed and brought back into the
life of their communities. Their cry echoes the heavenly host who
sang when the angel announced Jesus’ birth to shepherds (Luke 2:
13-14). These anonymous little people, the sheep of Israel, the
crowds of holiday travelers, seem like minor players in the cast of
Easter, but they represent us and we feel comfortable beside them
cheering Jesus on, recognizing him as the Good Shepherd. There
has always been something about Jesus, how he lives, laughs, cries eats
and drinks that attracts people like a magnet. It’s like God
himself touching deep places inside of us.
Coming in peace, however, is not a guarantee that
Jesus will be left alone by the powers, and we know that by the end of
the week the ‘might makes right’ steamrollers will have made sure that
Jesus is dead, really dead, and his motley movement scattered.
But for now, Jesus, a mere Galilean peasant, is in control of events as
he dismounts at the temple. Jesus loves the Jewish temple, but
Jesus hates what the temple has come to stand for – the taxes collected
to fatten Rome, the theft of land from poor Jewish families, the
neglect of widows and orphans.
And the crowd who enters with him on Palm Sunday
appears day after day with Jesus in the temple to hear him match wits
with the priests, scribes. A few examples:
1) Jesus cleans out sellers from
the temple court.
He accuses the temple of becoming
a safe haven for ‘robbers’ who have taken over the places
where Gentiles were permitted to worship God. (Luke 19: 45-48)
2) Jesus turns a trick question
on John’s baptism, his prophetic ministry,
back upon his adversaries, the
priests and scribes,
who are exposed in their
ignorance of God’s way. (Luke 20: 1-8)
3) Jesus turns the tables on
those who set a trap
with the question about taxes
paid to Caesar, hoping that his answer
either will turn the crowds
against him or cause his arrest by soldiers. (Luke 20: 20-26)
The leaders become enraged and anxious as Jesus gets
the better of them and the crowds stick with Jesus, amazed and
delighted with his success. The crowd is Jesus’ protection as
much as he is their advocate. But as Passover approaches, the
authorities get increasingly edgy; if Jesus were to say the word, this
crowd could turn into an ugly riotous mob, which has happened
before. Those who love to strut their power in daylight conclude
they must go under cover, hire an insider (Judas) willing to hand Jesus
over to them in private. By Thursday, secrecy, nightfall, and a
lonely garden replace the open daylight debate in the temple, because
they were afraid of the crowd. Once Jesus was arrested, a
different crowd would take over, a more private, by-invitation-only
crowd of soldiers and bureaucrats and angry religious leaders, to trail
Jesus to Pilate’s palace, then Herod’s villa, then back to Pilate
again, sending Jesus to crucifixion.
If Jesus were riding into our town this Palm
Sunday morning, where would your face be in the crowd? Would you
take off your designer jacket, your monogrammed bowling shirt, or your
choir robe to cushion his ride along Main St.? Would your voice
be raised in joy ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord’ or
in desperation ‘Save us, Jesus!’? What do you feel as you stand
by the side of the road? You might be cheering for Jesus, because
he is on your side, on our side, for the little guy who is buffeted by
economics and politics mostly beyond each person’s control. You might
feel invincible as he crushes the opposition with his passionate words
and actions. Maybe you would come back day after day because he
paints such a vivid picture of God’s kingdom and our place there that
you want to live like him. Or maybe you are a cynic because he
will fail by the end of the week. It was a nice run at the God’s
kingdom thing, but it was inevitable in the end that Rome and the
priests, scribes, etc. would triumph…
Imagine some of the faces in our Grove crowd
outside on the sidewalk, the faces that hope today in Jesus.
Silent stones who are waiting to come alive and shout out in support of
Jesus. I see a mother whose son is in prison for drug
offenses. In daylight, she knows his plight is complicated; he
made bad choices, couldn’t stick with a job, though the job options
were pathetic. Yet, she wonders in the dark of night what she did
wrong that let him slip away into this dead world. She loves her
son, and he loves her. Everyone knows this dark part of her life,
but no one asks - it’s as if he were dead. See Jesus ride by, she
thinks, “Jesus, can you heal him? Can you heal me?”
I see a couple who are glad to be on a holiday
weekend at the lake, away from the daily grind. Two jobs, school,
doctor visits with the kids, soccer practice, Rotary meetings - they
are so tired all the time, not to mention living on the edge of
chaos. Seeing Jesus ride by, they think, “Now, this is the way to
worship God, out here in the warm breeze, moving around and
singing. Jesus is the man – he shines of God more than anything
we have ever seen. Let’s stay in town a few more days and soak up some
more of Jesus.”
I see a family farmer who is going under for sure if
this year is as dry as last year. Big business farmers and
developers are pressuring him to sell off his inheritance, the land he
loves. He’s angry and depressed, looking for someone to blame. He
likes what Jesus has to say against the big shots who throw their
weight around. See Jesus ride by, he thinks, “At last, God is
about to grant me relief and security. Thank you, Jesus, for being on
my side.”
I see a woman surrounded by laughing friends, who
told her about Jesus. Her divorce was final a few years
back. It has been a long road coming alive after being ground
down by her ‘ex,’ finding a job and these supportive friends who have
been through it all, too. Seeing Jesus ride by, she gives him the
thumbs up. “Thank you Jesus for this miracle. I think I’m
going to make it. I really am worth something after
all.”
I see a fellow retired from a great career, in great
health, with a great nest egg and a great family. Life is just
great! But a nagging question picks at the back of his mind –
what’s next? Is it all downhill from here? Seeing Jesus ride by,
he wonders, “Why is he riding a donkey? How can you look so serene,
Jesus, when you’re running out of time to make God’s kingdom project
happen? Maybe I ought to get on board with God’s kingdom project, or is
it just a waste of precious time?”
There are others, too, who have been healed,
who have shared everything they have, who have been welcomed into
churches like ours, and have seen glimpses of God’s kingdom through
Jesus, the word made flesh, and who wonder how far they will be able to
walk with Jesus. Do you recognize any faces in this crowd that
gathers on Palm Sunday?
The Palm Sunday crowd will be back on Good Friday
walking with Jesus to the skull place, though some will skip out on the
horrible day. The Good Friday crowd will watch and wait until he
is dead. They will mourn, beating their breasts and crying out,
but finally the crowd will disperse and return to homes sad and
disappointed. Some will be too disappointed to hear the message
of Easter, for the promises of Jesus were not what they had
expected. But some of the crowd will be back after Easter to
continue on the way, the path of discipleship. Which crowd will
we be in Thursday night, on Good Friday, on Easter Sunday and
beyond? I pray we will be in the crowd that sticks with Jesus
because he has stayed with us and he has changed us. We want to
be freed from the burdens that hold us to the past as if we were
dead. We are bold then to take the invitation Jesus extends to
come to his table this morning to break the bread and share the cup
with him and one another, so that even today we try to live and die as
he did, confident that there is life beyond all kinds of death.
Amen.