PART ONE: Luke 18:31-43
Jesus took the Twelve off to the side and said, “Listen carefully. We’re on our way up to Jerusalem. Everything written in the Prophets about the Son of Man will take place. He will be handed over to the Romans, jeered at, made sport of, and spit on. Then, after giving him the third degree, they will kill him. In three days he will rise, alive.” But they didn’t get it, could make neither heads nor tails of what he was talking about.
He came to the outskirts of Jericho. A blind man was sitting beside the road asking for handouts. When he heard the rustle of the crowd, he asked what was going on. They told him, “Jesus the Nazarene is going by.”
He yelled, “Jesus! Son of David! Mercy, have mercy on me!”
Those ahead of Jesus told the man to shut up, but he only yelled all the louder, “Son of David! Mercy, have mercy on me!”
Jesus stopped and ordered him to be brought over. When he had come near, Jesus asked, “What do you want from me?”
He said, “Master, I want to see again.”
Jesus said, “Go ahead—see again! Your faith has saved and healed you!” The healing was instant: He looked up, seeing—and then followed Jesus, glorifying God. Everyone in the street joined in, shouting praise to God.
PART TWO: Luke 19:28-40
After saying these things, Jesus headed straight up to Jerusalem. When he got near Bethphage and Bethany at the mountain called Olives, he sent off two of the disciples with instructions: “Go to the village across from you. As soon as you enter, you’ll find a colt tethered, one that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it. If anyone says anything, asks, ‘What are you doing?’ say, ‘His Master needs him.’”
The two left and found it just as he said. As they were untying the colt, its owners said, “What are you doing untying the colt?”
They said, “His Master needs him.”
They brought the colt to Jesus. Then, throwing their coats on its back, they helped Jesus get on. As he rode, the people gave him a grand welcome, throwing their coats on the street.
Right at the crest, where Mount Olives begins its descent, the whole crowd of disciples burst into enthusiastic praise over all the mighty works they had witnessed:
Blessed is he who comes,
the king in God’s name!
All’s well in heaven!
Glory in the high places!
Some Pharisees from the crowd told him, “Teacher, get your disciples under control!”
But he said, “If they kept quiet, the stones would do it for them, shouting praise.”
Today is Palm Sunday – a day that can be a preacher’s nightmare. For this year I’ve narrowed it down to two readings – one from chapter 18, one from 19, but there is in these two chapters alone enough material to keep a preacher busy for at least three months’ worth of Sunday sermons. Whatever is chosen, so much important stuff is being left out.
I’ve chosen the first reading here for several reasons. The first is the hopefully obvious one that here Jesus himself tells his followers exactly what is going to happen:
I’ve chosen the first reading here for several reasons. The first is the hopefully obvious one that here Jesus himself tells his followers exactly what is going to happen:
“Listen carefully. We’re on our way up to Jerusalem. Everything written in the Prophets about the Son of Man will take place. He will be handed over to the Romans, jeered at, made sport of, and spit on. Then, after giving him the third degree, they will kill him. In three days he will rise, alive.”
Of course, they didn’t get it, but then, I’m pretty sure that none of us would have “gotten it” either at that point. They were following Jesus because they were caught up in the triumph of it all, that this man who could do miracles was living and acting and teaching, not among the rich, but right there with ordinary people. They had seen things that had changed their lives – changed them forever. He was promising them vindication for all their sufferings, pay-back for all they had lost. Regardless of what Jesus actually said, what many of them heard was "freedom from Roman rule."
These people had hope again after a long hope-less drought. I suspect they literally could not imagine failure of the sort Jesus was describing to them.
The second point I see is that, after he healed the blind beggar, the people “followed Jesus, glorifying God. Everyone in the street joined in, shouting praise to God.” This sounds to me like a mini Palm Sunday procession – almost a trial run – in some unnamed village – but not yet in Jerusalem. Just an interesting point.
The third point is the question of just who all these people were? This is the biggie for me today. There are clearly more than twelve people here, and if we listen closely we hear a difference in vocabulary in these stories. In many places the gospels speak of Jesus’ “disciples” but in other places it is “the twelve.” We know that the twelve specifically “called” disciples traveled with Jesus, but it is also clear there are often many more people than that. In many places in Luke’s gospel account, Jesus speaks to the disciples but then later pulls the twelve aside for some private talk. There is a clear distinction made between disciples and the twelve.
We know that people came out to see and hear Jesus wherever he went – and some of them, apparently, never went home again afterward. These are the disciples, the ones who “left home and family” for his sake, to follow – to walk with him wherever he went.
Now we move on to the second reading, the one from chapter nineteen– the “real” Palm Sunday procession – except that in Luke’s retelling there are no palms and no one anywhere is singing ‘hosannas’ – and they aren’t actually in Jerusalem yet, either, more still out in the suburbs somewhere, because right after this reading Luke tells of how Jesus wept “when Jerusalem came into view”.
Luke places a couple of important stories in between these two readings, while Jesus and his followers are presumably on their way to Jerusalem. First is the story of Zacchaeus, the little man in a tree – where Jesus stops and invites himself for a meal. The second story – which this translation says Jesus told “while he had their attention” is that of the talents and our requirement to use them wisely rather than burying them out of sight somewhere.
And then they reach those suburbs. And then the crowd follows Jesus cheering and softening his journey for awhile with their cloaks on the ground. This is not a crowd of strangers – this is that crowd that has followed Jesus wherever he led them. New people -- locals -- may have joined them, but these are largely the ones who have been with him all along. And now they are getting ready to enter Jerusalem at last, praising God and singing.
These people believe they are participating in a triumphal procession – and, of course, from our position centuries later, we know that they are – but it is no triumph that they will be able to recognize for a long time. Instead, it will feel like loss and failure and betrayal until they come to re-define just what triumph they are actually celebrating.
And this, of course, is where it all gets sticky – when their triumphal march turns out to be a death march – when the excitement and wonder that has them all turned-on and ready for freedom and miracles and vindication falls apart and turns as ugly as anything they could imagine. Within a few days this one they’ve been following will be dead, and so will their hopes and dreams and all that beautiful promise.
Oh sure, again from our position in history we know that it all comes around and ends in glory – at least we think it does, we believe it does – but there is so much “ugly” in this story before we get there. There is still so much ugly in the world – then and now.
These same people, lifted so high by hope and then beaten so low by failure had to somehow rise up again with a new vision. It is tantalizing to wonder how many of those present that day bailed out and ran back to obscurity and how many actually stuck it out, or at least came back to the new vision, the one they finally realized Jesus had been talking about all along.
And it should be humbling for us to wonder which side we would have stood on had we been there back then. After all, for 2000 years the world has continued to enslave and slaughter each other. “Ugly” is where a whole lot of the world still lives everday. Knowing this, do we, today, still have the courage to join the procession and continue to sing, in spite of all appearances to the contrary:
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Glory to God in the highest!
Can we, in the face of failure and loss, still keep believing, still keep proclaiming our faith and our belief? Can we – do we still follow the one who still leads us on unexpected paths? The one we trust to show us the way, God’s way – the way we were born to follow, whether it is the way we think we see or not? Do we still follow him?
These people had hope again after a long hope-less drought. I suspect they literally could not imagine failure of the sort Jesus was describing to them.
The second point I see is that, after he healed the blind beggar, the people “followed Jesus, glorifying God. Everyone in the street joined in, shouting praise to God.” This sounds to me like a mini Palm Sunday procession – almost a trial run – in some unnamed village – but not yet in Jerusalem. Just an interesting point.
The third point is the question of just who all these people were? This is the biggie for me today. There are clearly more than twelve people here, and if we listen closely we hear a difference in vocabulary in these stories. In many places the gospels speak of Jesus’ “disciples” but in other places it is “the twelve.” We know that the twelve specifically “called” disciples traveled with Jesus, but it is also clear there are often many more people than that. In many places in Luke’s gospel account, Jesus speaks to the disciples but then later pulls the twelve aside for some private talk. There is a clear distinction made between disciples and the twelve.
We know that people came out to see and hear Jesus wherever he went – and some of them, apparently, never went home again afterward. These are the disciples, the ones who “left home and family” for his sake, to follow – to walk with him wherever he went.
Now we move on to the second reading, the one from chapter nineteen– the “real” Palm Sunday procession – except that in Luke’s retelling there are no palms and no one anywhere is singing ‘hosannas’ – and they aren’t actually in Jerusalem yet, either, more still out in the suburbs somewhere, because right after this reading Luke tells of how Jesus wept “when Jerusalem came into view”.
Luke places a couple of important stories in between these two readings, while Jesus and his followers are presumably on their way to Jerusalem. First is the story of Zacchaeus, the little man in a tree – where Jesus stops and invites himself for a meal. The second story – which this translation says Jesus told “while he had their attention” is that of the talents and our requirement to use them wisely rather than burying them out of sight somewhere.
And then they reach those suburbs. And then the crowd follows Jesus cheering and softening his journey for awhile with their cloaks on the ground. This is not a crowd of strangers – this is that crowd that has followed Jesus wherever he led them. New people -- locals -- may have joined them, but these are largely the ones who have been with him all along. And now they are getting ready to enter Jerusalem at last, praising God and singing.
These people believe they are participating in a triumphal procession – and, of course, from our position centuries later, we know that they are – but it is no triumph that they will be able to recognize for a long time. Instead, it will feel like loss and failure and betrayal until they come to re-define just what triumph they are actually celebrating.
And this, of course, is where it all gets sticky – when their triumphal march turns out to be a death march – when the excitement and wonder that has them all turned-on and ready for freedom and miracles and vindication falls apart and turns as ugly as anything they could imagine. Within a few days this one they’ve been following will be dead, and so will their hopes and dreams and all that beautiful promise.
Oh sure, again from our position in history we know that it all comes around and ends in glory – at least we think it does, we believe it does – but there is so much “ugly” in this story before we get there. There is still so much ugly in the world – then and now.
These same people, lifted so high by hope and then beaten so low by failure had to somehow rise up again with a new vision. It is tantalizing to wonder how many of those present that day bailed out and ran back to obscurity and how many actually stuck it out, or at least came back to the new vision, the one they finally realized Jesus had been talking about all along.
And it should be humbling for us to wonder which side we would have stood on had we been there back then. After all, for 2000 years the world has continued to enslave and slaughter each other. “Ugly” is where a whole lot of the world still lives everday. Knowing this, do we, today, still have the courage to join the procession and continue to sing, in spite of all appearances to the contrary:
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Glory to God in the highest!
Can we, in the face of failure and loss, still keep believing, still keep proclaiming our faith and our belief? Can we – do we still follow the one who still leads us on unexpected paths? The one we trust to show us the way, God’s way – the way we were born to follow, whether it is the way we think we see or not? Do we still follow him?
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