“Getting Ready to Shout” - Luke 19: 28-40
April 1, 2007 (Palm Sunday)
Dr. Michael C. Yarbrough

          The parades were pretty much the same.  The same pattern – just new banners – new colors – new faces – new times.  Once a war was over, the peace was secure, and the victor determined, the conqueror entered the city.

          Each time, the king or general was escorted into Jerusalem by citizens who saw him as liberator, or by the army that had made the victory possible.  Each time, the “triumph,” as the Romans called it, was accompanied by hymns or acclamations shouted from the escorting crowd or army.  Each time, the procession included elements chosen to depict the authority of the honored one.  Each time, the “triumph” ended at a temple where a sacrifice or ritual of appropriation was held, and the victor claimed the city as his own.

          On this day, in the year 30, two processions entered Jerusalem.  From the west, Pontius Pilate, the Roman Procurator, or governor, of Palestine, returned to Jerusalem from the city of Caesarea Maritima with a column of imperial cavalry and infantry.  Pilate lived on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, but thought it prudent to come and make a show of Roman force at the time of this most important of all Jewish festivals called “Passover.”

          Pilate’s parade was solemn and orderly – a pageant reflecting majesty and overwhelming military power.  All who witnessed it could not help but be impressed by the trumpets playing fanfares, the drums beating out the rhythm of marching feet – the leather and crimson uniforms – the brass ornaments and golden eagles shining in the sun.  All were sensual reminders to the people of Jerusalem that Rome’s emperor is the Son of God!

          On this day, in the year 30, a second, unsanctioned “triumph” also entered Jerusalem.  The second one was relatively small, and seemed almost spontaneous.  In fact, it happened so quietly and so quickly that it didn’t even draw the attention of the Roman soldiers who were garrisoned in Jerusalem to keep the peace.  The gospels of Matthew, Mark, John, and Luke each tell their own version of the event, but we’ve heard the story told or read so many times that we’ve intermingled the different versions.  They are not the same.

          This morning, we are only concerned with Luke’s telling.  He doesn’t describe any festival crowds lining the streets.  Luke, unlike the others, doesn’t quote the Hebrew prophet, Zechariah, about a ruler who would ride into town on a colt.  In Luke, no one shouted “hosanna,” the Hebrew cry to God for help.  No one stripped the date palms of their leaves to wave as the “Honored One” rode by.  The way he wrote the story, it is almost as if this processional is just something personal between Jesus and his disciples.

          The way Luke depicted it, it was two of Jesus’ disciples who went to retrieve the young, unbroken colt for Jesus to ride.  It was the disciples who threw their own cloaks onto the colt as a seat, and then “set Jesus on it.”  According to the subtleties of Greek grammar, it was the disciples (not some parade-going bystanders on the streets) who threw their garments on the road across which Jesus’ colt trod.  Did you notice that Luke called the crowd who accompanied Jesus “the whole multitude of the disciples”?

          In Luke’s version, the disciples were propelling the action of this “triumph” forward.  It was the disciples, according to Luke, who proclaimed Jesus as Messiah with their actions and proclamations.  And for a few hours, this morning, the disciples recognized in Jesus, the fulfillment of their hopes and the answer to their prayers.  For a few hours, this morning, they had a glimpse of what the Kingdom of God could possibly become – and their hearts soared with joy – and they dropped their outer garments on the dusty street so that their messiah might ride across them.

          In their own version of the Roman “triumph” they were the escorts of their conqueror – they “began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice…” – and they laid their garments on the road to demonstrate the authority of Jesus in their lives.

          In ancient times, to lay down one’s own coat for a king or his steed to tread on was an act of submission.  It was a sign of acclamation found as far back as II Kings when the people of Israel laid their garments before King Jehu at his coronation (II Kings 9:13).  In that same tradition of submission, off came the disciples’ cloaks – downward they were spread – each piece of cloth a powerful visual symbol of one life promised to Jesus.  The clothes they laid in the street were the coats of fishermen and Samaritans and prostitutes and blind men and cripples and widows and ex-tax collectors who returned their wealth to the people.

          Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was a moment filled with fragile possibility.  The disciples were hoping that their future dreams had pushed into the present.  They may or may not have seen the power of the moment – but if they did, they certainly misunderstood it.

          On this day, in the year 30, two parades entered Jerusalem.  One was the triumph of military might and secular power over a conquered people.  A second was a quieter, more intimate event – a celebration of a small group’s hopes and dreams that got kind of carried away.  Some who saw the second procession realized what a dangerous moment it was.  Worried that the procession would bring the brutal Roman soldiers running, they wanted everything to stop.

          The Pharisees were more concerned with personal safety than listening to God.  They thought that you can just press the mute button on the Kingdom of God.  They thought you could just “shush” the disciples and pick up the coats with hoof prints on them and pretend that nothing happened.  They were probably thinking about Pilate’s processional: all the soldiers and weapons brought into town to keep something just like this from happening.  They wanted to avoid trouble, keep everything quiet, and worship at the temple in peace.  Jesus’ unofficial processional was politically confrontational and dangerous.  Surely, the Romans would view this parade as a threat to their control over the people of Judea!

          This morning, Jesus looked the Pharisees in the eye, pointed to the rocky berm of the road, and said, “I tell you, if these (folks) were silent, the stones would shout out.”  Jesus was saying that trying to stop the Kingdom of God from happening is like trying to stop the rain from falling – or earthquakes from trembling – or the tide from coming in.

          It is true that Jesus once spoke of the Kingdom of God as a seed growing secretly, and yeast making bread rise.  But more often, Jesus talked about the Kingdom as a loud wedding reception – and a huge feast to which the world is invited.  He talked about a father throwing a “welcome party,” and a gathering of the neighbors together to celebrate a found sheep or coin with uninhibited joy.  And the Kingdom of God is the procession of a young man riding a donkey westward toward the city of Jerusalem, exciting a small group of people who believed in who he was and what he said.

          On this day, in the year 30, two processions entered Jerusalem.  The big one – the bright one – the noisy one never made it into any historical records – and no one remembers it.  The small one, the quiet one, is celebrated by millions of people year after year, and was recorded in four gospels.  Everyone remembers it because it changed the world.  Get ready to shout your joy.  Get ready to sing out your praises – because if you don’t – if you are silent in the Kingdom of God, even the stones would shout out.  I invite you to say the acclamation with me: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

          Let us pray:

          O God, what a joy-filled day this is!  You’ve given us a glimpse of the triumph of those who place you at the head of their lives!  Take, today, our prayers – our intentions – and our praises – so that the hopes and dreams of the disciples on this day, in the year 30, will be transformed into the fullness of this fragile and even dangerous possibility!  In Jesus’ name we pray it.

Amen.