Luke 19:28-40/Luke 23:1-25
April 13, 2025
My first memory of attending a
parade was when I was a very little girl, probably three or four. It was the
Christmas Parade in Nashville, and my dad took us up to his office so we could
watch from above. If I’m remembering correctly, and I might not be, his office
was right along the parade route, so, even just a couple of stories up, we
could see the entire parade unfold. It was exciting for us to watch the parade
from this bird’s eye view, and for my dad, who was a quiet, sweet introvert, it
meant that he didn’t have to be jostled and squeezed in a huge crowd of people to
enjoy the spectacle.
When my kids were little, we braved
the crowds at the Christmas Parade in our town each year. The crowds didn’t
bother me as much as they did my dad, but regardless of what date the parade
fell on each year, it was always the coldest night in December. So, attending
the parade meant bundling up in long johns, heavy coats, gloves, scarves, hats
and then jumping around just trying to keep warm.
Parades are ubiquitous in our
culture, so universal and common that I have never given much thought to their
origin. According to what I found in a brief search on the internet, parades
first began around 2000 BCE. They were processions used for religious or
military purposes. The Babylonians used a parade or a processional to honor
deities. Parades were a means of displaying military strength and might,
especially to people conquered by that military might, as if to say, “Do you
see how powerful we are? Don’t even think about trying to overthrow us. It’s
never going to happen.”
The heading in many of our bibles
for these verses from chapter 19 in Luke’s gospel reads “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry
into Jerusalem.” Jesus, who had set his face toward Jerusalem a while back, had
finally arrived at the gates of the great city. Jesus, referring back to
prophecy from Zechariah, arranges his entrance by sending his disciples to take
a colt that has never been ridden and bring it to him. He rides that colt into
Jerusalem, and as he and his followers process, more and more people line the
route. They take off their cloaks and throw them onto the ground before him – a
spontaneous red carpet – and the disciples and the people began to chant,
“Blessed
is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in
the highest heaven!”
The
crowd of people must have taken up the chant because they grow louder and
louder, causing consternation among the Pharisees who were among the throng of
folks. They tell Jesus to order his folks to be quiet. Shhh! Quiet down! You’re
too loud! You’re going to bring trouble on our heads! But Jesus tells them that
even if every person there went quiet, silent, and still, the noise would still
be deafening because even the stones would shout. Creation won’t be quiet, even
if all the people are.
If
this story were to proceed as we expect stories should, then Jesus would have
entered Jerusalem, faced the powers that be in a mighty battle, vanquished the
oppressors, run the Romans out-of-town, and it would end with another, even
greater, parade, only instead of riding on a colt on hastily thrown cloaks,
Jesus would have been hoisted on the shoulders of the people. He would have
been lauded as a conquering hero, a mighty warrior, the once and future king –
to borrow from T.H. White.
But
that’s not how this story goes. The crowds that hailed Jesus’ triumphal entry
with praise and shouts of joy become the crowds that shout, “Crucify, crucify
him!”
Crucify,
crucify him! I realize that we can never know precisely who was in each crowd.
But I think it is fair to speculate that there was overlap between them. The
crowds hailed Jesus as the one who would save them, deliver them from the
occupation and oppression of the Romans. Jesus would be their mighty warrior
and conquering hero, their new king. But that’s not what they got because Jesus
was and never proclaimed to be that kind of king. He told his disciples
multiple times that being the Messiah meant something else altogether. It meant
suffering. It meant death. It meant rising again. But they could not fully
understand that, and to be fair, neither can we.
We
don’t have the time in this one worship hour to read all that happens between
Jesus triumphal entry into Jerusalem and where our story picks up in chapter
23. We don’t even have the time to read through to the crucifixion itself. We
don’t read about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane or Judas betraying Jesus or
Peter trying to defend Jesus from the guards who come to arrest him. We just
see these two moments, these glimpses, when the crowds who welcomed Jesus
become the crowds who demanded his death.
In
the first the religious leaders tried to quiet them and in the second the
religious leaders riled them up. But I suspect it didn’t take much effort to
rile them. These were people who were bitterly disappointed. These were folks
who thought that finally they would no longer have to live under the brutal
hand of Rome. Yet nothing seemed to have changed. Rome was still in power.
Jesus did not fight back, and what’s worse, he submitted willingly to his
arrest.
While
the first crowd was hopeful and joyful the second crowd was angry and vengeful.
While the first crowd welcomed Jesus the second crowd turned on him. And even
without a roll call of attendance for both crowds, it is more than probable
that the same people who shouted acclamation became those who demanded death.
Our
second passage from Luke begins with the assembly rising up against Jesus and
bringing him before Pilate. This assembly was the council of the elders of the
people. It was both the chief priests and the scribes. In the verses before
they have been questioning Jesus, saying to him, “If you are the Messiah, tell
us.”
But
Jesus’ response was, “If I tell you, you will not believe; and if I question
you, you will not answer. But from now on the Son of Man will be seated at the
right hand of the power of God.”
They
asked him to clarify. “Are you the Son of God?” But Jesus would only answer,
“You say that I am.”
This
was all the justification the authorities needed. They bring Jesus before
Pilate, accusing him of inciting the people, forbidding them to pay taxes to
Caesar, and claiming that he is the Messiah, a king. Pilate questions him then,
asking Jesus if he is the king of the Jews? Jesus answered Pilate in the same
way he answered the Pharisees and scribes, “You say so.”
It’s
as if Jesus was refusing to be labeled or categorized or put into a box of the
people’s making. If you want to call me king, then call me king, but you don’t
understand what that means. If you choose to call me Messiah, then call me
Messiah, but you have no comprehension to what being the Messiah really is.
Pilate can find no wrongdoing by Jesus, and when he finds out he is a Galilean,
he sends him to Herod.
This
is not the Herod who massacred innocent babies trying to kill Jesus. This is
Herod’s son, and clearly Herod has heard about Jesus. He has been hoping to
meet him so he can see Jesus perform a miracle. But Jesus isn’t a performer,
and his signs and miracles are not magic tricks. Herod questions Jesus too but
receives no answers from him. The chief priests and scribes continue to accuse
Jesus. Then Herod jumps on board and he and his soldiers mock and deride Jesus.
They put a robe on him, maybe a robe that a king would wear, and return him to
Pilate.
This
is where we see this second crowd. We already know that the religious
authorities are determined to see Jesus die, but now the people get involved. And
they are angry and riled up, and with the religious authorities spurring them
on, their voices join in the demand for Jesus’ execution.
Pilate
repeats that he has found Jesus guilty of nothing. He will have him flogged and
released, but the people demand that Barabbas, a prisoner guilty of
insurrection and murder, be released instead. Their cries for Barabbas’ release
and Jesus’ crucifixion overwhelm Pilate’s declaration of Jesus’ innocence. So,
Pilate gives the people what they want. Barabbas is freed and Jesus goes to the
cross.
Two
crowds. One that welcomed Jesus as the longed for Messiah Warrior, Savior and
Deliverer. One that turned on Jesus and shouted for his death. I’ve quoted this
in past sermons, but I think it bears repeating – we should never assume that
we are always the good guys when it comes to what we read in scripture. We
should never assume that we were only present in the first crowd and not the
second. Just as I asked which brother are we when we read the story of the
Prodigal Son, I ask now which crowd? Which crowd have I joined? Certainly I
have been in crowds that were joyful and excited and welcoming. But have there
been times when I have habited the second crowd? Have there been times when I joined
the chorus of voices demanding a justice that wasn’t just? Even as I examine
momentous times in history and wonder what side I really would have taken, I
must ask myself this question of the crowds. Which crowd would I have joined?
Would I have been in one and not another, or would I have gathered in both? Would
I have offered welcome then betrayal? Would I have experienced hope then bitter
disappointment?
It
would be easy to just read about Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem,
celebrate the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, then leap for joy on Easter
Sunday. It would be much easier to go from joy to joy. But this holiest of
weeks leads us inevitably to Good Friday. We must enter into that suffering,
that betrayal, that terror. We can’t go around it. We who know the rest of the
story are indeed Easter people, but we live in a Good Friday world.
So
as we move through each day of this week, my prayer for all of us is that we
ask ourselves which crowd, not out of shame and degradation, but honesty. I
pray that we gather at the table one last time on Maundy Thursday and that we
face the suffering and death of Good Friday. Because we believe that Jesus
lived and died and came into life for our sakes, then for his sake, we walk
through the fullness of this week. But we do not walk alone. We never have and
we never will. We face the darkness of this week together, with God and with
one another. And that is good news indeed.
Let
all of God’s people say, “Amen.”
Amen.
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