Hidden

Scriptures:      Isaiah 50:4-9a             Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2:1-11       Luke 19:28-48

Today, of course, is Palm Sunday, when we celebrate Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, when we wave our palm branches in remembrance of the crowds who saw Jesus riding on a donkey and shouted, “Hosanna!”  “Save us now!”  Like last Sunday’s reading about the woman anointing Jesus’ with perfume, versions of the Palm Sunday story are found in all four gospels – and I gave you printouts of all four versions.  It’s always instructive to compare similar stories across the gospels to note both the similarities and the differences, and to reflect on why each Gospel writer told the story in the way that he did.

As with last week’s readings, Luke’s account of Palm Sunday includes some striking differences from the other gospels.  For one thing, Luke’s account of what we call Palm Sunday doesn’t include any palms!  You can even look at the reading from Luke’s gospel as shown on the printout.  No palms, but we’re told that the disciples put their cloaks on the donkey Jesus was to ride, and spread their cloaks on the road ahead of Jesus.  So, I suppose, if Luke’s gospel were the only gospel available for us to read, we’d be calling today Cloak Sunday instead of Palm Sunday.  I should say that Matthew’s and Mark’s gospels mention both cloaks and palms, while John’s gospel mentions only palms. That said, there are a lot of similarities – in Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s gospels, Jesus tells the disciples to go into the village ahead of them – Bethphage and Bethany – and find a colt that has been tied up – Matthew’s gospel actually has Jesus’ disciples taking both the colt and its mother, while Mark’s and Luke’s gospels tell us that it’s a colt that has never been ridden – and that when the owner raises objection, to tell the owner, “The Lord has need of them.”  It has been said that for Jesus to be able to ride a colt that hadn’t been broken without the colt throwing him off was in itself a miracle….maybe we could call Jesus “the colt whisperer.”   But there’s also the sense that this colt had been set aside for this sacred purpose.  Also in Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s gospels, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is closely followed by his driving the moneychangers from the Temple – in Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels, this seems to happen right after Jesus rides into town, while in Mark’s gospel, Jesus rides into Jerusalem, scouts out the territory, leaves Jerusalem, and then returns to Jerusalem the next day to drive out the money changers.  John’s gospel also tells of Jesus driving the moneychangers from the temple, but this account (John 2:13-22) is in the beginning of John’s gospel, shortly after he has chosen his disciples and right after the wedding at Cana, which was the site of Jesus’ first miracle. 

There is one other striking way in which Luke’s gospel differs from the others:  there seems to be a profound emotional disconnect in this moment between Jesus and his disciples.  In the other Gospels, the crowds are shouting “Hosanna” to Jesus, but in Luke’s gospel it’s the multitude of Jesus’ disciples that are doing the shouting, not the crowds, so the procession is smaller and quieter in Luke’s gospel than in the others.  But more than that, Luke tells us that while Jesus’ disciples are joyfully caught up in shouting praises to God, as they draw closer to Jerusalem, Jesus begins……..to weep.  To cry.  Not tears of joy either, but of wrenching grief.  As the disciples shout with joy, Jesus rides, and weeps, and says, “‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”  This is not the first time Jesus has lamented over Jerusalem; several weeks ago we read where Jesus said, “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! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when^* you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”  In today’s gospel, this moment has come.  Now they are seeing Jesus – and the disciples are shouting “blessed!” – but Jerusalem is still the city that stones the prophets and kills those sent to it, and Jesus know that he will be one more in the long line of those sent by God and killed in Jerusalem.  And so as his disciples are shouting for joy, Jesus breaks down in tears, abandons all attempts at maintaining composure,  just loses it.  Earlier, Jesus had said of Jerusalem, “See, your house is left to you”; that is to say, abandoned to its enemies, like chicks who run from their mother right into the mouth of ravenous wolves.  In today’s reading, Jesus goes much further, saying that the city would be destroyed, not one stone left on another, because, Jesus said, “You did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”  We might wonder whether Jesus’ words temper the enthusiasm of the disciples, or whether they just heedlessly continue with their celebration.

I’d like us to focus on these two statements from Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem.  The first is this:  “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace.  But now they are hidden from your eyes.”  And here’s the second:  “You did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”  Might these words of Jesus apply to us as well?

Ironically, Jesus was hardly the only person concerned about peace at that moment.  Jesus was riding into Jerusalem, among other reasons, to celebrate one last Passover meal with his disciples – we’ll be remembering this meal on Maundy Thursday, which is this Thursday.  And Passover was a tense time in Roman-occupied Jerusalem.  The remembrance of the Jew’s liberation from Egyptian slavery always reminded many that they weren’t truly free, but were crushed under a new form of servitude, the Roman occupation.  The remembrance of the Jews’ throwing off Egyptian rule led many to dream of throwing off Roman occupation, and some, the Zealots, went beyond dream to acting out in violent attacks on Roman authority.  And so each Passover, Rome would “keep the peace” – with shows of force, with soldiers and spears and chariots.  The religious leadership, to some extent in cahoots with Rome, did all they could to discourage any thought of rebellion against Rome, did all they could to encourage the people to surrender to their chains.  And this was Rome’s vision of peace – the famed Pax Romana, the Roman peace - a “peace” enforced by an army, a peace coerced by use of terror.   Needless to say, this was not the peace Jesus had in mind.  And so Biblical scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan tell us that there were likely not one but two processions into Jerusalem that day.  From the west, the representatives of Roman power, led by Pilate, marched into town with soldiers and horses and chariots and spears.  From the east, Jesus on a colt, the never-before-ridden colt perhaps bucking a bit to throw Jesus off, Jesus’ toes perhaps dragging in the dust, the disciples spreading their cloaks and shouting and, according to the other gospels, waving palm branches.   We view Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem through a haze of religious sentimentality, but what Jesus was doing was subversive, a kind of non-violent protest, the optics of his entrance a parody of Roman power.  And Rome certainly got Jesus’ message, even if we miss it: Jesus was dead less than a week after riding into town.

What would Jesus say if he were to ride again, this time into Washington, DC, or into Harrisburg, or into Philadelphia, or even into Bridesburg, down Thompson Street, making a turn onto Fillmore?  Would Jesus weep over us, as he wept over Jerusalem?   Do we recognize the things that make for peace?  Now, I think we all want peace – but what kind of peace, and under what terms?  Whose vision of peace do we crave, that of Rome or that of Jesus?   Do we seek peace through superior firepower, or do we seek peace by means of piling up possessions, as do those who live in gated communities who literally put walls between themselves and the pain of their communities, or do we seek peace by numbing our minds and spirits through alcohol or drugs or overeating or overworking or other short-term pacifiers – pacifiers that may take the pain away for a minute, but inevitably return our pain to us soon enough, with compound interest - or do we seek the peace of God that passes all human understanding?  Whose parade are we marching in, Pilate’s or Jesus’?  Do we recognize the times of God’s visitations in our lives, and in the life of our church?

Last Thursday I was at the monthly meeting of the Philadelphia Association Committee on Ministry, a group of clergy and lay leaders from our denomination’s churches of the greater Philadelphia region whose charge it is to evaluate the fitness of candidates to be ordained, and of clergy to maintain their ordained status.  In the Roman Catholic church and the Orthodox churches and in some Protestant denominations, this work is done by a bishop, supported by an administrative staff, but in our denomination, the United Church of Christ, this work is done by committees working on a volunteer basis.  After four and a half years of weary service as co-chair of that important but sometimes-beleaguered committee, it was my last meeting, a red-letter day for me indeed, and please believe me when I tell you that I am grateful to lay that burden down.  Our Conference Minister, the Rev Bill Worley, who many of you have met, was there as well to represent the Conference.   I led the devotional for this last meeting that I co-chaired, and we discussed today’s gospel reading.  And Rev Worley had an interesting take, which comes in part from his experience as a military chaplain:  In his entry into Jerusalem, Jesus was riding into pain.  Everyone else was trying to avoid pain:  the disciples hoped Jesus would take away their pain; the Romans displaced their pain by inflicting it on their subjects; the religious leadership tried to make people content with their pain.  But Jesus rode into the pain, rode into the storm, for us.  For us.

Jesus rode into the pain.  The way to Easter Sunday goes through Good Friday – through, not around.  The road to resurrection leads through crucifixion, not only for Jesus, but for us as his followers, who with Jesus walk the way of the cross.  We can try to avoid pain, try to fast-forward from Palm Sunday to Good Friday – in one of the bulletin inserts, our Associate Conference Minister, the Rev Sharon Morris, has an insightful meditation about the upcoming week, which I’d strongly urge you to read when you get home – but the way of Jesus is the way of the cross.  It’s a painful road, and yet the road to God’s peace is a road through pain – through, not under or over or around, but through pain.  We go through pain, not because we’re masochists, but in order for God to transform our pain into blessing, for ourselves and others.  The way of the cross is a way of pain, and yet Jesus promises that we will not be alone in our pain, for he said, “I will be with you always.”  Jesus will be with us, because Jesus lives in each of us, and we will be with one another.  I am continually amazed at, and can’t stop talking to others about, the deep caring that you, the members and friends of this congregation, show for one another and for this community.  At Emanuel Church, Christian community doesn’t just happen on Sunday during the coffee hour.  At Emanuel Church, this Christian community is at God’s work every day, with every phone call, with every Facebook post of encouragement and support, with every care package of food and supplies shared with those in need.  Make no mistake: there’s a lot of pain here, overwhelming pain, nearly unbearable pain, among our members and in this neighborhood.  But, led by our Risen Savior, we don’t cower from the pain, but walk through it, together, picking one another up when we stumble, providing for one another when we can’t go another step.  We go through the pain, together, transforming the pain into blessing for one another and for those around us.

May we be open to God’s revelation to us of “the things that make for peace”.  May God open our spirits so that we recognize the times of our visitation by God, those times when God is active in our lives and our community.  May we, together, follow Jesus on the way of the cross, which is also the way of resurrection.  Amen.