A Royal Entry
Matthew 21:1-11
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,
“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look your king is coming to you,
Humble, and mounted on a donkey,
And on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
Jerusalem is the city sometimes referred to as the “spiritual navel of the world.” Regarded as a holy city by three major world religions: Judaism, Muslim and Christianity, it is loaded with theological and symbolic meaning. That translates into better then 3 billion or 53.5% of the entire world’s population. Even today when one visits Jerusalem, the impression of being in a place torn by conflict and contradiction is inescapable.
The old walled city is divided into sections. There is an almost palpable air of tension and yet one still gets a distinct feeling of being in what the Celtic tradition calls a “thin place,” a place where the gap between heaven and earth is thin. Political decisions that affect millions are made in Washington, London, Beijing, Moscow; but for many the sovereignty of the ages is tied to this place which has been fought over for centuries. The Psalmist calls us to “pray for the peace of Jerusalem.” “The City of the great King” it is called, yet it is the center of opposition to any erstwhile Messiah. It is the Holy City that “kills the prophets and stones the messengers sent to it.” Any religious personage with a strong sense of self-preservation would keep his distance. The “Holy City” is not a healthy environment!
Yet, even though born in another place, as Scripture indicated he would be, the Messiah would at some point have to make an appearance in Jerusalem ever to be identified as the legitimate claimant to that role. Scripture prophesied it. It must happen and indeed it had already been planned. Even a cursory reading of this account would strongly hint that the events of Palm Sunday were anything but random or reactive. A carefully orchestrated plan is unfolding, right down to very specific and concrete details.
The drama was set in motion when Jesus sent two of his disciples into a village just across a small but steep valley from Jerusalem. Instructions are again precise. Find a donkey tied there with a colt, untie them and bring them to me. If challenged, say “The Lord has need of them.” It was like a password that would be recognized and heeded. Certainly arrangements had been made in advance. The actual details crafted perhaps days earlier, but the scenario was described centuries before in a divinely inspired prophecy: “Your king is coming to you, gentle and mounted on a donkey.” (Zech. 9:9)
The disciples did as they were told. They found the donkey and without a hitch brought it to Jesus. Maybe in their absence the other disciples went and summoned the people along the route into Jerusalem. We’re not told, so we don’t really know how it came about; maybe the mere mention of Jesus’ presence in the vicinity was enough to raise a multitude. His reputation preceded him? But there they were and when Jesus hoisted himself on the donkey, a shout must have gone up. People got caught up in the moment, probably unaware that they were participants in a great drama.
I doubt they had the remotest notion that crowds of people 2,000 years later in places yet to be discovered would be remembering and re-enacting their parade, the parade that ushered the Lord of the Universe into the city of God – Jerusalem.
Some deep-seated longing rushed to the surface in the crowd. They threw their garments before him as he rode, the 1st century version of rolling out the red carpet. And they shouted “Hosanna! Hosanna to the son of David. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” Something took over. The euphoria, near hysteria, transcended the circumstances – much more was happening than met the eye. Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem raised the question that the event was planned to answer: “Who is this?” But the answer, as honorific as it was, fell short. This is the prophet Jesus… but He is so much more than a prophet. Only in retrospect would some of them grasp the meaning:. This is He, the Messiah, the Son of God. “Who is this?” It is He! The Messiah, the Anointed One. Savior of Mankind!.
That’s the story plucked from a much larger story that continues even to this day. It’s like saying that parade is so much longer than an initial glance would indicate. Inclined to relegate to history — to a history we believe to be dead, closed -- we’re conditioned in this current culture to think life happens in thirty minute segments punctuated by eight minutes of commercials. It’s almost as if we are all subject to a collective ADD, our attention span doesn’t favor reflection. If God wants to get in a word, he’d better say it quick, in sound-byte fashion. We’re more subject to that pace than we realize, I suspect.
The problem is exacerbated by the additional observation that we see life and interpret it through either myopic (near-sighted) or presbyopic (far-sighted) eyes. Myopic means we can only focus on the immediate, close range. Presbyopic, and, yes it shares the same root word as Presbyterian, is not being able to see well up close. Presbyopia is inability to focus sharply on close objects usually due to advancing age. So in addition to God having to say it quick, God has to bring His drama of salvation into that range where we can see it.
All of which is to say God has accommodated God’s self to our limited ability to hear and see. In Jesus he has complied with all the prophetic details and come unto his own… and as John’s gospel said, “His own received Him not.” At least not yet. You see those who greeted him with a rousing “Hosanna!” may well have been the same as those who only days later growled “Crucify Him!” It’s going to take more than a royal or triumphal entry into the Holy City for them to get it. It would take nothing less than a man coming back from the dead. And then, and it would seem only then, did it sink in. Everything that had happened that had kept his followers fascinated and mystified made sense. He is who He said He was… and continues to be.
Now here we are 2,000 years later on this side of the Resurrection. Do we get it or are we held captive to the pace, the distraction, the lack of vision and fickle faith of those folks along the current parade route? Do we recognize the rider? Is he one of a number of prophets, holy men, rabbis? Have we gotten the message Matthew and all the Gospel writers want us to get?
Have you noticed how often we only understand the significance of an event in retrospect? When it was actually happening we were too close, to involved, too consumed. Robert S. McNamara was Secretary of Defense during the Viet Nam War. An intense, fully devoted, micro-managing leader, McNamara has now written a book entitled In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Viet Nam. In it McNamara candidly revisits mistakes made in the days leading to America’s involvement in the war in Viet Nam.
In retrospect.
Fred Craddock tells of a man in a church in Cincinnati. A grumpy sort. A controlling man – and that was the problem Craddock had with him. He was one of those people who act like they’re just in the background, but who really hold the reins. He was in charge although he’d never claim that was so. Everyone knew it. He controlled his family. His kids. His grandkids. Those he works with. And the church.
Craddock preached in that church several times and ran into him at a denominational meeting several years later. “I saw him coming,” said Craddock. “There was nowhere to escape.” “I shook hands with him and could hardly believe the change in his countenance, a biblical word we don’t hear much on the street.” “How’s the church?” Craddock asked. “Better than we’ve ever been,” the man glowed. And this is what he said, “God is at work in our church.” I never heard him say anything like that before. Mostly he just criticized. “That’s wonderful. Who’s your minister?” “Oh we’ve got this woman.” “You do?” I was incredulous. “Yeah,” he said. “I voted against her and all my family voted against her (of course), but we got out-numbered.”
“And…?”
He said, “I was wrong. I was wrong in my estimation of women preachers.” And then he looked at me and said, “Brother Fred, if I was wrong about her, I was probably wrong about a lot of stuff.”
In retrospect, he saw something and began a whole new way. And somewhere in the heavens there just may have been an amen… or maybe it was just distant thunder.
My friends, if only we could see it now, could recognize Him for who He is and join the parade… not just Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, but the parade leading from His empty tomb to a new world!
In retrospect, we may see our lives in a new light. All those things that happened to us, some, maybe many, we didn’t understand and resented or which caused us to writhe in pain were ultimately working together for good, each drawing us nearer to saying of the man on the donkey – “I know Him. He is my Savior and Lord. It is to Him that I owe my life, my purpose, my service, my all.”
There was a plan afoot all along!
AMEN
A Royal Entry
A Sermon by
Dr. J. Lawrence Cuthill
March 16th, 2008
Winter Park Presbyterian