Sermon Archive


Cheers and Tears
© by the Reverend Dr. Byron E. Shafer
(Rutgers, April 8, 2001;  Palm Sunday, Year C)
Psalm 118:1–2, 19–29 (OT, pp. 625, 626);  Luke 19:28–42 (NT, p. 85)

 

“Bittersweet”—that’s the term I’ve long associated with Palm Sunday, a day swept by strong eddies and crosscurrents of emotion, a day when celebrations swirl with foreboding, when cheers echo back cries of "Crucify," when followers dizzily hail a Messiah who, just five days hence, will be scarred, tortured, put to death.

For the triumphal procession that we call to mind today will lead westward not just to Jerusalem but through Jerusalem, beyond that city’s farthermost enclosing wall, outside to the stark outcropping of unquarried stone called Calvary, Golgotha—The Place of the Skull.

Throughout this week, which climaxes our 40-day Lenten journey, we’re asked to relive the tortuous story of Jesus in Jerusalem, the story of Jesus’s passion and death.  And what’s asked of us today, specifically, is to find our place amidst the cheering, chanting disciples who’re processing to that city with Jesus.  We’re asked to identify with them, to find our place amongst them, so that the old, old Palm-Sunday story may remain ever-new, as we become part of it and it becomes part of us.

So journey with me in space eastward to the city of Jerusalem, and journey with me in time backward to that ancient Sunday-before-Passover.

Jesus has been conducting his three-year-long ministry outside of Jerusalem, for the most part far to the north, in the Jewish hinterland of Galilee.

There, early on, Jesus’s inner circle of traveling companions had come to include a bunch of scruffy fisherfolk—Peter, Andrew, James, and John—and even a seedy tax collector, named Matthew.

And none of the rest of his apostles has a distinguished pedigree either.  So far as we know, all the others are peasants—a couple of them, apparently, firebrands with insurrection on their minds.

After having chosen these twelve to be his inner circle of followers, Jesus had then gone on to create a great public scandal by adding to his entourage a different group of marginal folk, this time a number of women unaccompanied by husbands—including Joanna and Susanna and Mary, called Magdalene—men and women unrelated and unmarried to each other, traveling around together through the countryside.

Then, after two years or so of this itinerant ministry in Galilee, Jesus and his followers had turned southward, heading at a leisurely pace toward the Holy City of Jerusalem.

And during their extended journey, Jesus’s entourage had further expanded, adding the likes of: a mute man to whom Jesus had restored speech; a crippled, misshapen woman whom Jesus had healed after eighteen years of her being bent over; a Samaritan leper, a man doubly marginal—marginal because of his ethnicity and marginal because of his disease—yet a man whom Jesus had restored to wholeness; a blind beggar to whom Jesus had given the gift of sight; additional tax collectors, reviled though they are; and still more people infamous for being sinners, like prostitutes.

What a bizarre parade of pilgrims it is then that, on this Sunday morning, Jesus now leads the last few miles to Jerusalem, along a path downtrodden for centuries by caravans and conquering armies—Jesus and his joyous band, kicking up the dust with every step and singing psalms all along their way to Jerusalem, where later that week they will celebrate Passover and commemorate God’s liberation of Israel from slavery in Egypt back in the days of Moses. 
                                    “O give thanks to the Lord, for God is good;
                                                God’s steadfast love endures forever!… 
                                    This is the day that the Lord has made;
                                                let us rejoice and be glad in it.” 
(Ps. 118:1, 24)

First-century Jerusalem is, of course, a far simpler time and place than our own.  There’s no Sunday morning Jerusalem Times to blare the headline, "Jesus Leaves Jericho for Jerusalem."  The citizens of Jerusalem haven’t been titillated for weeks in advance by puff pieces about "The Celebrity Christ,” one of society’s "25 Most Intriguing People," either in a People magazine or on an Entertainment Weekly TV show.  There’ve been no paparazzi selling to a National Enquirer exclusive photographs of Jesus’s feet being bathed in tears and anointed with oil by an unnamed prostitute; no ancient Mark Shields and Paul Gigot debating what the real political intentions of Jesus may be; no first-century Gail Sheehy offering a psychological profile of Jesus for a Vanity Fair; no former-time Peter Jennings asking cult specialists to comment on the Jesus Sect and the way it’s been breaking up families.  There’s been no public relations firm stoking the ardor of Jesus’s fans by releasing a new CD of Jesus singing psalms at a synagogue and reciting parables along the shores of Galilee; no antique Barbara Walters advertising an upcoming exclusive tell-all interview with Jesus from her rooftop-garden; no old-time CNN Sunday morning news show featuring a first-century Wolf Blitzer quizzing Jesus, astride his donkey, about rumors he’s intending to disrupt business in the Temple.

So, at least as the Gospel of Luke narrates this Sunday morning scene, the crowds assembled around Jerusalem for the Passover are unprepared for the bizarre sight they now see: Jesus, riding on a borrowed burro and surrounded by a wildly exuberant mob of followers—a triumphal entry of marginals and misfits singing out,
                                    “Blessed is the king who comes
                                                in the name of the Lord! 
                                    Peace in heaven,
                                                and glory in the highest!” 
(Luke 19:38) 
[How amazingly like the heavenly host who sang of peace at Jesus’s birth these earthly followers sound!]

Jesus—the king of the fisherfolk and tax collectors, the sovereign of women and Samaritans, the monarch of the crippled and blind, of demoniacs and harlots, of the poor and the destitute—many of whom are throwing down garments on the road in front of Jesus, imitating the supporters of old King Jehu, who’d strewn his way with garments many centuries before.  (II Kings 9:13)

But Jesus seems such an ordinary man, and he’s riding such a common beast, and the garments being thrown as a carpet before him aren’t expensive cloaks woven of royal purple, but tattered tunics and dusty, sweat-stained shawls.

“Blessed is Jesus, the sovereign of sinners, the monarch of outcasts, the king of the sick, the poor, and the oppressed.  Blessed is the one who has shared our hardships, relieved our suffering, and accepted us, whom others will not accept, offering us, too, the gift of hope, the gift of God’s love.”  Such is what Jesus’s followers are shouting out, so that the stones along the road have no need to!

As Jesus’s procession crests the Mount of Olives, catches its first glimpse of Jerusalem, and begins its descent to the Kidron Valley, Jesus brings his young donkey to a halt and pauses to survey the Temple and its courtyards, outspread in their entirety before him.  He stops, and looks, and weeps, offering this lament: “If you, [O Jerusalem], had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!  But now they are hidden from your eyes.”  (Luke 19:42)

The time of Jesus’s entry is a moment of fragile possibility.  If only the people would see Jesus for what he truly is, a sovereign who comes offering not the start of strife and conflict, of which so many living under the Roman yolk are dreaming,  but a sovereign who comes offering the gift of love and wholeness to the diseased, the dispossessed, the disenfranchised.

Life is filled with moments when we can see what might have been.  And this is such a moment for Jesus.  His “triumphal entry” lives but an instant and then produces a stream of tears, as Jesus recognizes that the people of Jerusalem, the people of the city whose very name means peace, do not want the kind of peace Jesus has come to offer.  And the cheers give rise to tears.

Jesus’s weeping over the city as he first sees it evokes echoes of the motherly lament we heard him offer a few weeks ago: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!  How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”  (Luke 13:34)

The coming of God’s reign on earth offers good news for the poor, a place at the table for outcasts, sight for the blind, an end to subjugation for women, the responsible handling of wealth and property, a reevaluation of what constitutes holiness.  Two ways are set before Jerusalem and the world: the way of repentance and peace taught by Jesus, or the way of disobedience and destruction.  And Jerusalem and the world choose not Jesus’s way, the way of repentance and forgiveness of sin, but the other.

Jesus’s lament over Jerusalem arises from his vision of what could have been and from his grief over the loss of that vision.  Jesus’s lament expresses his love and profound caring for the city, his hope, which must painfully release the object of his hope, and his mixed feelings of sorrow and anger.  Jesus, filled with passion and compassion, weeps.

The powers and principalities of the world will not much longer tolerate this sovereign of sinners, this monarch of outcasts, this king of the sick and the poor and the oppressed.  Come Friday, five days hence, Jesus will be put to death.

So here’s a question we who are followers of Jesus are to ask ourselves today and each and every Palm Sunday, as we process alongside Jesus at the beginning of Holy Week, cheering wildly and then watching in astonishment as Jesus pauses to weep—here’s a question we are to ask ourselves today: Where will we be found come Friday?  Will we still be found at Jesus’s side?

Or will we perhaps become so frustrated by the apparent weakness in this world of Jesus’s kind of peacemaking and love and by the apparent victory of violence and bloodshed in places like Afghanistan, and Indonesia, and the Sudan, and Israel, and the West Bank, and San Diego—will we perhaps become so frustrated that by Friday we, like Peter, will be found among those denying we’ve ever really been followers of Jesus?Or could we even become so frustrated that by Friday we, like Judas, will be found among those betraying Jesus?

Or will we instead, even then, on Good Friday—like Mary Magdalene—still be found alongside Jesus, still be found standing watch at the cross, still be found standing convinced of the power of his love?

Yes, Palm Sunday is a day that’s swept with strong eddies and crosscurrents of emotion, a day when celebrations swirl with foreboding, when our cheers echo back Friday’s cries of "Crucify."

For by Friday, the cloak-strewn road will have led right through Jerusalem and beyond it to Calvary, to Golgotha—to The Place of the Skull.

What part will we play as the rest of this week’s drama unfolds?  And what impact will the rest of this drama have on our lives?

Dear companions in today’s "cheering, chanting, dizzy crowd," please join me here on Thursday evening at 7:00 p.m. for our reenactment of Christ’s last supper with his followers, and then again on Friday between noon and 2:00 p.m. to stand watch together at Christ’s cross.  Be present with Christ not only today for the cheers, but through the rest of this week for the tears.

 

Let us pray:

O God, may we walk with Jesus with cheers on our lips and tears in our eyes all the way to the cross and beyond. 

And Gentle, Suffering Messiah, may we be found at Your side throughout this week.  May we be found supping at Your table and kneeling at Your cross, that we may taste of Your grace and behold the cost of Your love.  Amen.


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