"Palm Sunday"
Luke 19:28-48
March 28, 1999

v. 29 The order of towns is interesting because Bethany was further from Jerusalem than Bethphage. Perhaps it is both an identification of a general location and a specific town.

Today begins our commemoration of the Passion Week, the week of the culmination of our Savior's sorrows, leading to his death on the cross that Friday afternoon. Those six days, beginning with that long ago Sunday, were the most terrible and the most wonderful days that ever were or ever shall be in the history of the world -- and perhaps in the history of eternity as well. Our salvation, if we are saved; our happiness, if we are to be happy forever, came to pass in those days.

The four Gospels -- Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John -- bear their own witness to the fact that these days stand above all others. Matthew, the longest gospel, devotes twenty chapters to the first thirty-three years of the Savior's life, and seven chapters to these last six days. Mark devotes nearly forty percent of his total space to the passion week; Luke twenty percent of his gospel to these five days; and John nearly half of his gospel. We are not dealing here with only part of the history of Jesus and salvation: we are dealing with the heart and center of it, the point and the purpose and the fulfillment of all the rest.

The early church saw this clearly. You may have noticed yourself how in the early creeds, in the confessing of Christ, his entire public ministry is left unmentioned. "I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried."

Here we have the same recognition again. Though Christ's life and three-year public ministry was important, of course, nevertheless the days of his passion, the final week of his life: the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the night spent in the Upper Room with his disciples, his hours in Gethsemane, his trial, his scourging, his crucifixion, his death and burial -- it was for this, above all, that he came into the world; it is upon these things that eternal life is founded, these events, packed into those six terrible and magnificent days.

That week began on the Sunday we now commemorate as "Palm Sunday." It was apparently later in the day that Jesus entered the city to the thunderous welcome of great crowds of people, for Mark tells us (11:11) that shortly after entering the city and reaching the temple, Jesus returned to Bethany with the Twelve because it was late in the day. It may well be that the Lord's timing of his entry into the city was calculated to have the maximum effect and so it was delayed until the largest number of people could learn that he was approaching and make their way out to the road to greet him. However that may be, the scene was such as Jerusalem had not witnessed in centuries: a conquering hero, a new King, was approaching and vast multitudes turned out to hail him.

Now, do we understand what happened on that long ago Sunday? And do we understand its connection with the events of the five days that follow? Remember, these are not simply statements of theological truth. This is history, history of the most accurate kind. It was Spring, probably a sunny, warm Sunday. Give wing to your imagination and see in your mind's eye the events as they unfolded: the noise of the huge crowd, the shouts and cries of 'Hosanna', the Lord Christ coming down through the crowd on that donkey -- hard to see him through the people crowding the road -- perhaps for a moment or two amid the din, the clop of the donkey's hooves on the paving stones, the stones not yet covered by cloaks and palm fronds.

What does all of this mean? What is happening here? To answer that question we must go back a year or so, to a mountain top in Galilee, where, one night, in the presence of the inner circle of the Twelve -- Peter, James, and John -- Jesus was transfigured -- revealed in his divine glory. Moses and Elijah appeared to him that night and spoke with him about his impending death.

From that fateful night, the Gospel writers tell us, the Lord "set his face toward Jerusalem." He began speaking openly and directly about what was to happen to him -- that he would fall into the hands of the Jews in Jerusalem, be put to death by the Romans, and then rise again to life on the third day. As often as they heard him speak about this, the disciples did not really understand or believe what Jesus was telling them.

And as the Lord, with his entourage, made a slow southward progress toward the capital, he took a number of steps that could not help but both advertize his coming and provoke the Jewish leadership -- already fulminating against him in their envy of his popularity and, no doubt, their hatred of his goodness. He sent out 72 of his disciples on a preaching tour, a tour in which they cast out demons and worked miracles -- creating an immense stir over the countryside. News of all this, no doubt, was filtering down to Jerusalem all the while.

At the end of this period the Lord was in Judea itself and there, in the several weeks immediately prior to Palm Sunday he performed two of his most stunning miracles. The first was at Jericho where, on a road crammed with Passover pilgrims, he gave sight to the blind beggar Bartimaeus merely by speaking a word. Within hours the story would have been spreading in the capital. But, then, some days later, in Bethany, just two miles from Jerusalem, our Savior raised his friend Lazarus from the dead. This too was done in full view of witnesses and the news would have spread like wildfire.

We know from the gospels that the raising of Lazarus was the last straw for the Jewish leadership. They did not deny that a miracle had occurred; they could not, it is not unlikely that some of them witnessed it; but they realized that, in view of such power, they could not compete with Jesus of Nazareth; he had to be destroyed. Such is the grip of unbelief on the human heart!

After that great miracle, the Lord retired from public view for several days. But during that time the anticipation of the people grew to a fever pitch. They knew Jesus the wonder-worker was nearby. People everywhere were saying that he was the Messiah, the long-awaited King who would deliver Israel from her enemies. Passover was near, the most patriotic time of year for any Jew. Pilgrims had come from all over the world to be present in Jerusalem. Scholars tell us that the ordinary population of 30-50,000 would swell to upwards of 150,000 people during the feast. Those of you who have been to the middle east can imagine the crowded bazaars, the streets jammed with people, homes and dinner tables full with friends and relatives from afar and on everyone's lips talk of Jesus. When would he appear? What would he do? What would the Romans do? Some would wonder aloud about the miracles, others would point out that no one who was there had any doubt about what had happened. Could this be the King of the Jews, the Warrior Prince who would finally deliver Israel from the galling yoke of Rome?

Our Savior, of course, kept the Sabbath Day holy as he had always done. He spent it in Bethany with the Twelve and his good friends Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. No doubt he understood how much he would need the refreshment of that day, knowing, at least in general, what the next week was to bring.

Then, on Sunday, in the company of his disciples, and, so far as we can tell, a growing crowd of followers -- his whereabouts could hardly have been kept a complete secret -- the Lord left Bethany and began to make his way up the western slope of the Mount of Olives. He came near to village called Bethphage, which is almost certainly the village where he told his disciples to find the colt. There he gave these strange instructions which were bound to create still more interest and excitement, all the more when the disciples returned to say that everything had happened just as the Master had said.

By now, of course, the crowd accompanying Jesus would have become much larger -- the day after the Sabbath in Passover week would have been a day for many to go into the city, and news of his approach would have reached the city and spread rapidly, electrifying the population. Streams of people would have flowed out of the city to welcome the coming King. And, as happens in such situations, the larger the crowd, the greater the excitement, the louder the noise, and soon the "Hosannas" could be heard and were taken up by the multitudes -- "Hosanna" one of those great OT words of exclamation and praise, which, in Psalm 118:25 is followed by this chant "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord, and so on." We've witnessed crowds wildly chanting such things many times in the 20th century -- from "Heil Hitler" to "We shall overcome" to "Allah is Great!" And then one person laid down his cloak or a palm frond and soon everyone was doing it.

It is not so difficult for a citizen of our century to imagine the scene: the crowd shouting, the excitement mounting, and the Lord's disciples beaming and laughing, talking with the crowd as they walk toward the city gate. This, of course, was the fulfillment of all their dreams. Their day had come!

We might have supposed that the adulation of the crowd, their virtually crowning him their king, would have been an immense satisfaction to the Jesus Christ as well, to ride into the capital in triumph in this way. But, Luke reminds us that the Lord was far from feelings of triumph and vindication.

In the first place, he was well aware that the acknowledgement he was receiving from the crowd was misplaced and bound to be short-lived.

The picking criticism of the Pharisees was only a reminder that neither they nor anyone else really accepted who he was or what he had come to do. John tells us in his account of the triumphal entry (12:16) that even the Lord's disciples did not understand what was happening and would not until after the resurrection. The crowds weren't receiving Jesus, they were rejecting him. Luke tells us in v. 37 what was in their minds. They saw him as a man with power to work miracles, someone who could exercise that great power on their behalf. They were thinking of what miracles he would perform for them and for Israel. They were not thinking of their need to be delivered from sin or their need for a Redeemer to die for their sins. That was the last thing they had in mind.

And so we hear the Lord saying, in v. 41, "if you, Jerusalem, had only known what would bring you peace..." but you did not know it. Not victory in battle, not a miracle worker, but righteousness with God that only a Redeemer who was both God and man could provide you. But you welcomed only the miracle worker; you had no time for the Redeemer who would die for the sins of the world.

He knew what was in the hearts of those who so wildly welcomed him and praised him. Like a salesman, whose florid compliments do nothing to raise your self-esteem, the praises that were rolling over the Lord as he made his way slowly down the road were no encouragement to him at all.

What is more, he knew what was in store for Jerusalem because of its rejection of him. He knew that she was to be destroyed, that before too many years had passed, not one of those massive stones in the walls of the great city, those stones now towering above the road, would be left on top of another. These are people with death and the wrath of God resting on their shoulders and they did not know it. They welcomed Christ because they thought he could deliver them from the Romans, and he knew that because they would not welcome him as their Savior from sin, the Romans would utterly destroy the city and leave Judea a wasteland.

He sees all of that as he rides along! And for a man of the truest sympathy as Jesus was, to know, to see such a future was heartbreaking. And so, while others shouted with glee, the Savior rode along in tears. What a remarkable scene! What a world of meaning in the contrast between the Lord's tears and the gaiety of the crowd and even the Twelve! He really would tread the winepress of the wrath of God alone! No one with him; no one understanding; no one able to lift him up with fellow feeling.

But, in the second place, the Lord also knew that this triumphant celebration could not help but hasten his death.

Indeed, he had no other intention but that it should. He entered the city on the day when it would be ready to receive him with the wildest enthusiasm. He ordered a colt upon which to ride, one never before ridden, which, according to the imagery and the history of the OT made this procession a royal procession, the public announcement that Jesus of Nazareth was the King of the Jews. That is why Jesus drew special attention to the arrangements for the donkey colt. He wanted everyone to pay special heed to the manner of Jesus' procession to the city. It will be just as Zechariah the prophet had foretold centuries before,

"Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! Behold you king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey."

The crowds didn't miss the significance of what Jesus had done. They began strewing the way with cloaks, and, the other gospels tell us, with palm branches. They were welcoming a King! And the Lord, to the exasperation of the Pharisees, accepted their welcome. Told the Pharisees straightout that it was right for them to praise him.

How different this from the three years preceding, during which Jesus went out of his way to avoid such a direct assertion of his Messiahship. Over and again he had told people he had healed -- sometimes healed in the most spectacular fashion -- to say nothing about it to anyone. He told his disciples pointblank that they were to tell no one that he was the Messiah. All of this was his way of delaying the eventual confrontation with the religious authorities of the people. He would lay his life down, he said, but only when the time had fully come.

Well the time had come. All need for restraint was past. By entering Jerusalem this way, he as much as threw down the gauntlet before his enemies. He was, in other words, precipitating the crisis that would lead inexorably to his death. He knew that. He was already under a ban. The chief priests and Pharisees had already begun plotting to kill him. As Klaas Schilder perceptively put it, in the foregoing months we observed Christ "as he stood in the vestibule of the house of sorrows. Now we shall see him put his own hand on the latch of the door that leads into the temple proper." [Christ in his Sorrows, 101]

The whole significance of the life and death of Jesus Christ is thus revealed in the events of that Sunday -- the isolation of the Savior in the midst of an unknowing world. And, his going to death, to give his life a ransom for many. "While we were his enemies, Christ died for us!"

Some of you, no doubt, have already read the new John Grisham blockbuster bestseller, The Testament. I had never read a Grisham novel -- they are all about lawyers in some way and all are eventually turned into successful movies -- but several folk told me I should read this one and then I saw several reviews in Christian publications that celebrated the book as a statement of Christian faith.

Grisham himself, I had not known, is a Southern Baptist evangelical. He said in an interview in Christianity Today some time ago that he writes his books so that his boys could read them. But none of his novels to this point, had been so avowedly religious in character. He said he wanted to see if he could write sympathetically of Christian faith in the kind of novel that he has specialized in, novels written for popular consumption.

Well, I salute him. I got a copy in the Minneapolis airport and read the book on the flight to Sea-Tac. And it is an interesting story. It concerns an eccentric billionaire who leaves his fortune -- to the great consternation of his several wives and various children -- to a heretofore unknown illegitimate daughter. It turns out that this woman is a missionary to Indians who lives in one of the most remote and inaccessible parts of Brazil. A lawyer, a man just concluding a stint in alcoholic rehab is sent to find her and inform her that she is now the richest woman in the world. The man, whose life is in serious disarray, does finally find her, after many adventures, but she doesn't want the money. What is more, she puts her finger on his spiritual problem and -- we would say -- she witnesses to him and he is converted, though Grisham wisely stays away from the jargon of evangelical Christianity.

The story is more complex than that, but the heart of the story is that the man's life is changed by his encounter with God, through this faithful woman who has given her life to bring the gospel to Brazilian Indians.

It is very interesting to see lots of people in airports with this book under their arm and one wonders what they are making of it. They are buying it in colossal numbers as they do every Grisham novel.

But one thing concerns me about the book. Now, don't mistake me. I'm glad for Grisham's courage and skill in bringing faith into such a popular story and making faith and Christian commitment so attractive and so ennobling. I salute him for that. And I don't wish to be taken to be criticizing his effort at all. I think it is, in fact, quite possible to tell the story of faith and transformation by the grace of God without saying everything that must eventually be said.

But, I did regret that such a fine effort in this direction should leave Jesus Christ, his life, his death, his resurrection, the entire subject of "Christ for us" almost completely out of account. It is not entirely forgotten -- Christ is mentioned a few times and the lawyer at one point finds himself in a church looking up at a crucifix -- but, by and large, the story that is told is of the missionary telling him of God's love and purpose for him and of his praying to God. Sins and forgiveness are mentioned, but not specifically Christ as his redeemer from sin and guilt. There is no mention of his death on the cross.

But we cannot remember Palm Sunday and the events that led up to it and those that came after it and not remember, and not feel with the deepest conviction, that it is, after all, Jesus Christ who, by the Father's own appointment, stands at the very center of all life and all salvation and all happiness and all hope. From him and for him and to him are all things! And it is before Him that every knee will someday bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord, to the glory of God the father. Let us honor him in our hearts this Palm Sunday!

This great personality at the center of human history, this tender, patient, kind, merciful Lion of a man. This prophet, priest, and King. This friend of sinners and Son of God, the creator of the world, who stands above all the life of all mankind. The fate, the destiny, the happiness or woe of every human being is determined finally by nothing else but by whether a man or a woman knows and loves and follows Jesus Christ or not. He himself said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father but by me."

We see him on his way into Jerusalem, that long ago Palm Sunday, and we realize that this is so and why it is so. He was the Savior of the world but sinful men and women are not at all inclined to believe that. They are still inclined to see their problems in terms of their earthly wants rather than their sins against God. What do you see your problem to be? What would complete your life: something this world can give you or God's forgiving your sins? The choice is the same today as it was then: to refuse Christ (whether that refusal takes the form of outright rejection or praising him for all the wrong reasons) because you are really not interested in what he offers you; or to honor him as the Son of God and the Savior of sinners, who came precisely to give you what you needed above all else -- peace with God.

And the outcome of that choice is the same today as it was on that day. Either all your hopes will eventually be dashed and the world disappoint you, or Christ will carry you with him to heaven. It is exactly that; momentously that; nothing less than that!

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