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Bethpage. Little has changed
since the days of Jesus. It still sits perched on the rugged
ridge of the Mount of Olives. If you look back down the
narrow path, you can see the equally small village of
Bethany and the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus where Jesus
turned for respite and retreat in preparation for the week
ahead. If you look ahead across the narrow valley, you can
see the city of Jerusalem surrounded by its ancient walls.
Today the “Dome of the Rock,” a holy site for Moslems,
dominates the skyline and sits on the highest point of the
land. In Jesus’ day it would have been the great temple,
center of worship for the Jews. It’s amazing how this little
piece of ground can be holy to all three of the world’s
great religions, and today, in many ways, it is the center
of the tensions which sit at the center of the turmoil in
the Middle East. It’s a dramatic spot in more ways than one,
and it marks a dramatic moment in the life and journey of
Jesus.
Jesus made his way from the calm
retreat of the home of his friends, up the backside of the
mountain. He has made all the preparations. Now as he
arrives at the village of Bethpage, the crowds are asking,
“What will he do?” His critics are asking, “What will
he do when he gets to Bethpage?” In essence, they are
all asking, “What kind of a Messiah will he be?”
It’s a moment of powerful
symbolism for the oppressed people of Israel in Jesus’ day.
They were used to the sight of victorious conquerors,
surrounded by marching soldiers and cowering slaves, moving
to the beat of the Roman drum, with the victor riding on the
back of a white horse…the signs of conquest, power and
might. Not as frequently, they had also seen the victor
riding on a donkey, the symbol of one who comes in peace,
one who has fought the battle, but now comes to reconcile.
They hold their collective
breath to see what will happen. What will he do? What kind
of Messiah will he be? And at Bethpage, he climbs on the
back of a colt (a donkey) and begins his descent into the
city.
The crowds
burst into uncontrollable shouts of joy and praise:
“Hosanna!” (which means
“Save now!”)
“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”
“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.”
1.
HE COMES…RIDING ON A DONKEY.
Let me say quickly that the
colt, the donkey, was not necessarily the sign of contrite
humility, and certainly was not the sign of surrender or
submission. The conquering soldier returning from battle was
still coming as the victor, but the way in which he came
sent a message about the kind of victor he would be. This
symbol of the colt is the sign of one who comes to
reconcile, one who comes to unite, one who comes in peace.
Of course, I am sure there were
those in the crowd, especially in the inner circle of Jesus’
disciples, who wished it were otherwise. I mean, put
yourself in their place. They had given up everything for
his cause, left their families and careers, believed in his
vision. They’d been at this campaign for three years, worked
hard, struggled with the forces around them, given their
best. They were ready for their big day, their day in the
sun.
Ready to see the kingdom of God
come in its fullness…now!
Ready to see Jesus ride into the
city and vanquish his enemies, get rid of the evil Romans
and lift up the righteous.
Ready to establish his reign and
take over his kingdom.
There were those, I am sure,
especially among his closest inner circle, who would have
preferred a white stallion to the donkey. Maybe that’s what
motivated Judas to try to force Jesus’ hand into action, to
force him to take his stand and establish his authority. Who
knows?
In the Vatican museum, there is
a chamber with incredible paintings by Raphael depicting
Constantine at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 A.D.
In one scene, Constantine sees the vision of the cross and
the promise, “Under this sign you shall conquer.” He claims
the cross of Christ as his sign, paints what we now call the
“Chi Rho” on the shields of his soldiers, and in the next
panel Raphael shows him on a white stallion slaughtering the
enemy under the sign of the cross. It’s a great moment in
church history. Christianity was freed from persecution,
became the religion of the Holy Roman Empire, and began to
spread around the known world.
And
of course, there are still those who would prefer a
Constantinian Jesus.
There are those who would prefer
a Jesus who comes on a white stallion; a Jesus who would
combine the power of faith and the force of state; a Jesus
who would bless all our battles, fight all our foes and
promise us the victory.
Author Martin Marty recently
wrote an article in the Christian Century entitled
“Rambo Jesus.” He reminds us of Henry B. Wright, YMCA
liaison to the military during the first world war, who in
1917 tried to encourage new recruits by telling them of his
own vision—not unlike Constantine’s—“of Jesus sighting down
a gun barrel and running a bayonet through an enemy’s body.”
Marty says that once again in
our day it appears there is a call for a sterner, more
muscular, more bellicose image of Jesus—a Rambo Jesus, the
Jesus of the white stallion, the Lamb making way for the
Lion. He concludes:
These days, some folks assume
that because our opponents have an Allah, seen by many as
the god who inspires jihad, we need a warrior Jesus. If this
vision prevails over almost all of the gospel imagery of
Jesus, one might say, spiritually, Armageddon is already
here.
(Martin Marty, “Rambo Jesus,”
Christian Century, May 4, 2004, page 47)
But instead, Jesus comes
riding on a colt, a donkey, the symbol of the victor who
comes in peace.
And in case we missed the
symbolism, Luke records a particular moment of pathos, where
amid the shouts and cheers of the adoring throng, Jesus
pauses along the path, looks out over the city and weeps,
“Would that even today you knew the things that make for
peace.” And my guess is that if Jesus were to make the ride
from Bethpage to Jerusalem today, he would still weep—weep
for a city and a world which can’t see and doesn’t know the
things that make for peace.
Jesus
comes…riding on a donkey.
2.
AND JESUS COMES, RIDING TOWARD THE CROSS.
The first question of this day
was, “What kind of a Messiah will he be?” And as he mounts
the donkey, the second reasonable, logical question is, “How
far will he go?” The question really goes all the way back
to the beginning of his life, all the way back to the
beginning of the Gospel.
When God sent his son in human
flesh, born of a woman, made like us to take on our
experience and to share our humanity, you want to ask,
“How far will God go with this?”
When a teenaged Jesus finds
himself in the temple and discovers his own identity and he
tells his parents, “Didn’t you know, I have to be about my
Father’s business?”, you want to ask, “Yes, boy, but do
you have any notion what that will mean in the long haul?”
When a young, itinerant preacher
returns to his hometown to preach his first sermon and he
chooses for his inaugural text, “The Spirit of the Lord is
upon me because he has called me to preach good news to the
poor, recovery of sight to the blind, deliverance for the
captives and proclaim the year of our Lord,” you want to
shake your head and ask, “Does he really have a clue as
to where that kind of preaching will get you in this kind of
world?”
And now, when
he mounts a donkey at Bethpage and begins the final descent
toward the city gates; when the people throw their cloaks
and palm branches in greeting as the opposition leaders get
more anxious with the swelling crowd, you want to ask,
“How far will he go with this?”
The
answer is...ALL THE WAY TO THE CROSS.
He comes, not as a conquering
Lord, but as a redeeming Savior. He comes, not in the power
and might of the world, but in the overwhelming power of
love and mercy. He comes to give himself as a ransom for
many, so that through the blood of his cross, we might be
saved.
Another lasting impression out
of our all-too-brief week in Italy, in all those incredible
churches and all that unbelievably beautiful art, was all
that blood! In the graphic literalism of so much of the
Middle Ages and Renaissance art, there are crucifixes
covered in blood—blood spurting from Jesus’ side and
dripping from his hands and feet—and to our sophisticated 21st
century tastes, quite frankly, it’s all just too much. We
are just not crazy about bloody crosses, or
Fountains filled with blood
drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunging beneath that flood loosing all their
guilty stains.
But don’t let the repulsion of
the imagery undermine the power of the message. The message
is simply this:
Christ comes, willing to give
himself for us.
Christ comes ready to die, if
necessary.
Christ comes, willing to go all
the way to the cross if that is what it takes to redeem us,
to bring us back to God.
This week we will sing Charles
Wesley’s great hymn, which expresses the awe and wonder, the
amazing grace of this journey toward the cross—the only
proper response to the coming of our Savior:
O Love divine, what hast thou
done!
The immortal God has died for me!
The Father’s co-eternal Son
bore all my sins upon the tree.
The immortal God for me hath died:
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.
Is crucified for me and you,
to bring us rebels back to God.
Believe, believe the record true,
ye all are bought with Jesus’ blood.
Pardon for all flows from his side:
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
(UM Hymnal, page 287)
He
comes, riding toward the cross, so that through the blood of
his cross, we might be saved.
The movie End of the Spear
was released recently, telling the story of five young
American missionaries to Ecuador who in 1956 were killed by
a group of Auca Indians. I remember the story from my
childhood. I remember the book entitled Through Gates of
Splendor, and I remember hearing in my college days the
quotation from Jim Elliott’s college diary: “He is no fool
who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”
Even though they had guns with
them, they chose to fire into the air rather than to fire on
their attackers, and they gave their lives in order to carry
the Gospel to the Indians. A movie reviewer in none other
than the Wall Street Journal writes:
The explanation for the behavior
of these men is not easily comprehended in our time. They
had a worldview that transcended the material world. Such
tales of selfless love are rare today, and worthy of
celebration.
(“Triumph From Tragedy,” David
H. Howard, Wall Street Journal, 1/20/06)
And, of course, he is right.
Tales of selfless love are rare. And tales of selfless love
deserve celebration. That’s the theme of this day of
celebration:
Jesus comes…riding on a donkey.
Jesus comes…riding all the way to the cross.
Jesus comes…to die for us, the tale of selfless love.
No wonder the crowds gathered.
No wonder they voiced their praise. No wonder they worshiped
at his feet. And if we have any sense at all, we will join
them in their shouts of welcome and palms of praise.
Join all and sing, His
name declare,
Let every voice resound in acclamation.
Hosanna! Praise to the Lord!
Bless Him who cometh to bring us salvation.
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