Luke 19:28-40
March 24, 2-13/Palm Sunday
One
of the things I strove to do this past week in Nashville was take Phoebe around
to as many of my old haunts as I could.
First on that list was a trip to the neighborhood I grew up in: Green Hills.
When I was a kid Green Hills was just fine. It was a modest but nice neighborhood with
big lawns and lots of trees. The hills
around it were definitely green. It was
bordered by some wealthier neighborhoods, such as Belle Meade, which was
originally the Belle Meade horse plantation, but Green Hills was just
nice.
Mighty
changes have been taking place in Green Hills over the last several years. The family friends we stayed with described
Green Hills as “trendy.” Other friends
said they tend to avoid the area because the traffic has gotten
outrageous. But I charged over there,
determined to show Phoebe as many places from my childhood as possible.
Well
trendy is a bit of an understatement. My
high school, which is in the middle of Green Hills now has a refurbished gym
and looked a little fancier than the last time I was there. The stores around the school have changed,
becoming more upscale and gentrified with each transformation. I was happy to see that the Donut Den, which
sits right next to my high school and was the site of an infamous “bust” by the
school administration of students who weren’t supposed to be off-campus during
school hours is still there. But even
that once non-descript little store has taken on a fancier sheen and polish.
But
the trendiest of all the places in my old stomping ground is the Green Hills
Mall. Or, if I refer to it by its proper
name, The Mall at Green Hills. The mall at Green Hills was not much more than a
strip mall when I was a kid. The one
store of note in my eyes was the Game Store and that’s because they sold doll
houses and doll house furniture. There
were two department stores which were Nashville institutions, Cain Sloane and
Castner Knott’s, a shoe store that sold Buster Browns and the site of my first penny loafers purchase, and not much more than that.
But
as Phoebe and I walked around the Mall at Green Hills I realized we were not in
the mall I once knew. There is a Louis
Vuitton, which I associate with Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills and Fifth
Avenue in New York. Tiffany’s has a
store there! Tiffany’s! I say again that trendy is probably an
understatement.
But
here’s the thing about trendy. What’s
trendy today may not be trendy tomorrow.
I doubt that the mall or Green Hills for that matter will go from
upscale to slum overnight. I don’t know that Green Hills will ever be anything
but upscale from now on. Yet I do know
that trends are fickle because people are fickle. What’s hot and hip and cool now may not
always be so. People are fickle.
The word fickle
has been on my mind this past week. It’s
a word that is often used to describe the crowds that greeted Jesus as he
entered Jerusalem. The fickle crowds
laid their cloaks on the ground before him.
It was a fickle crowd that welcomed Jesus, hailed him as King and Savior
one minute, then angrily shouted “Crucify him!
Crucify him!” the next. The
crowds that met Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem were fickle indeed.
If
you’ve been paying attention to the specifics of Luke’s version of this story,
you’ve probably realized that there are some differences from the other gospel accounts. Luke makes no mention of palms or leafy
branches, just cloaks. Matthew and Mark
both recount that the people laid down their cloaks and leafy branches they’d
cut in the fields. Matthew has Jesus
commanding the disciples to bring a colt and a donkey. John just has palm branches and it’s a
donkey’s colt that is brought for Jesus to ride on. I mention this because I think we sometimes
fall into the habit of assuming we know the story when actually each gospel
tells its own unique version of the events surrounding Jesus’ entry into
Jerusalem.
Yet
whether its cloaks or palms, a donkey, a colt or some combination thereof, all
the gospels tell how Jesus made his way into Jerusalem surrounded by great
crowds of cheering, confident people.
They are confident in his kingship and their greeting expresses all of
their faith, their hope and their expectations.
However
these aren’t just general groups of people gathered to see what all the fuss is
about and getting caught up in the moment.
These are described as the “multitude of disciples.” Luke doesn’t give us any clear understanding
as to whether this multitude was also part of that fickle crowd who called for
Jesus’ death later in the week. Perhaps
these are disciples who stayed loyal to Jesus until the end. Perhaps not.
One
significant difference from the other gospels in Luke’s telling comes at the
end of the story. As Jesus is processing,
and as the people are shouting and cheering, some dismayed Pharisees along the
route try to pressure Jesus into making his disciples stop the yelling, the
cheering, the acts of adoration. I don’t
think it’s fair to just assume that the Pharisees were being the spoil sports
of the day, trying to rain on the parade.
Perhaps the Pharisees were concerned that all of this commotion and
hubbub would draw the attention of the wrong people. Maybe they were worried that the Roman
government wouldn’t see this event as something to be pleased about, and their
wrath would rain down on every Jew.
These were not impractical or ludicrous concerns on the part of the
Pharisees. Yet Jesus’ response does
nothing to reassure them.
“I
tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”
Even
if Jesus were to enter Jerusalem in absolute silence, the multitude of
disciples hailing his approach with only mute stares and glassy eyes, the noise
from the stones would still be deafening.
If the human creation would not proclaim the coming of the Lord, the
rest of creation would.
The
stones would shout.
Although
Luke does not give us palms in his version, it is still Palm Sunday; the day
when we commemorate the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.
Whether it was with palms or cloaks or something else, the practice of people
laying down something before a coming hero or king was not uncommon in that
culture. It was a customary Roman tradition
to hail the coming of a royal or a great conquering warrior with branches or
cloaks. A procession through the streets
signified that the coming one was great, a hero or king who was conquering and
powerful and mighty.
And
the crowds who hailed Jesus that day believed that he was their king, their
long-awaited Messiah, the victorious champion who would change everything for
them from that point on. They were
expectant and eager and hopeful for all that Jesus was about to do. But we who know the rest of the story know
that Jesus did not meet their expectations.
We know that the kind of conquering Jesus did was not military or
political or a form of violent overthrow.
I guess the claim could be made that Jesus did come to conquer, but it
was accomplished through sacrificial love, not military might or worldly
power.
But
if you were a part of the crowd that day and you expected military might or
hoped for worldly power, then the kind of conquering Jesus brought was a
disappointment. So these fickle crowds
turn their backs on Jesus when they realized he was not the warrior they
wanted.
We know
differently. We know who Jesus was and
is and what he really accomplished in Jerusalem. We know the truth that was found on that
cross and when the stone was rolled away from an empty tomb.
But
even if we didn’t, the stones would shout.
Maybe what Luke is trying to get across to his readers and us is that
even if we don’t always get it, even if we’re sometimes as fickle as those
crowds or as prone to misunderstanding as the early disciples, it doesn’t
matter. The stones would shout. Even if no one turned around to hail Jesus’
entry into Jerusalem,
the city where God’s greatest triumph would take place, it doesn’t matter. The stones would shout. Even if we miss the opportunity to proclaim Jesus; if we just push our way through this Sunday and this week as quickly as possible, trying to get to the joy of Easter without the pain of Good Friday, it doesn’t matter. The stones will shout.
Nothing
can stop the glory of God. Nothing can
hinder that glory from permeating the world and transforming it. The glory of God, the triumph of Jesus has
set all of creation free. Even if we
remain silent, never raising our voice or even clearing our throat, the stones
will shout.
The
stones are shouting that God has come, God is coming, the Lord is at hand, our
Savior soon dwells among us. Let us join
with all creation on this day of days and shout our joy that the Lord is
coming. Let us make the foundation of
this church ring with our cries and our hosannas. Jesus is coming! Let the stones shout! Amen!
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