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Everyone Likes a Parade Luke 19: 28 – 40 |
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Summary
Voices at a Parade You know I just love parades. Don’t you? I guess it is that little boy still inside of me. I enjoy watching the floats go buy, and I guess because I grew up in a small town, the floats don’t need to be all that fancy. I even enjoy watching all the groups march by and wave at the crowd. I do not ever remember watching a parade that stirred up any negative feelings in me. Mixed voices at the parade But the parade I want to talk about today is a horse of a different color. It basically was as triumphant as any parade you ever watched or ever dreamed of watching. It was full of expectation, anticipation and enthusiasm. Yet even as the parade came together, there was this cloud of tragedy that began to take shape in the crowd. The parade that I am speaking of is the oldest parade in Christian history, the event we refer to as Palm Sunday. It isn’t at all surprising that so many churches have a sort of miniature parade in their worship services today, with the children marching down the aisle waving palm branches. And did you know that this Sunday has two names in our general church calendar: Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday — names with very, very different moods. Stay with me, then, while I tell you about the voices at this first ever Christian parade, before the followers of Jesus Christ were known as Christians, much less anything known as a Christian church. Jesus had already become a significantly popular figure. It did not matter if he was talking in a village, a small city or somewhere out in the countryside, huge crowds would gather around to hear him speak. They wanted to see yet another miracle or to hear him answer the questions thrown at him by the religious leaders. And they began to increasingly feel that Jesus was to be Israel’s new king, the one who would lead their nation out of their bondage to the Roman Empire. Voices of love and praise As Jesus and his disciples entered Jerusalem, a few days before the great Passover feast, his followers could barely wait. And when he chose to ride into the city of Jerusalem on a young donkey, an animal that had never been ridden before, the mood was thrilling. Grown men began to through their coats on the ground to make a mat before him and still others cut branches from the nearby trees and spread them as part of their do-it-yourself highway. And the people shouted. Men, women, and children began to praise God loudly! For all the wonderful things Jesus had done. Then their shouts started to take on a political quality: “Blessed is the king / who comes in the name of the Lord! / Peace in heaven, / and glory in the highest heaven!” These were the peoples along the parade route that day, the day that we call Palm Sunday. They were the voices of joy, of hope and of unbounded expectation. As I said a moment ago, the mood was exciting. Even if you had come simply because of your curiosity, you probably would have joined in the shouting and singing. Threatening voices But there were other people in the parade route. They were educated, cultured voices in somewhat of a contrast to the crowds that were calling for Jesus to be their king, because so many in the crowds who adored Jesus were just plain country folk, common people. But these new voices were those of scholars and opinionated political operators. And they were threatening voices. There was a sharpness in their tone, a threat even in the careful, controlled way in which they spoke. They were Pharisees, the most respected religious sect in Israel, people known for their patriotism, their piety and their learning. And they were not at all happy with the way the crowds were reacting to Jesus. They didn’t shout their opinions. They spoke them quietly but forcefully to Jesus himself. “Teacher,” they said, “order your disciples to stop.” Why did these intelligent, sincere men try to rain on Jesus’ parade? I think several factors were at work. For one thing there was an element of jealousy was at work. People who are used to having power don’t like to see anyone new on the block. This is especially true when they find that they cannot control him. The Pharisees were accustomed to the respect they received from the people. Common folk stepped back to let them walk by. I suspect that the Pharisees enjoyed this attention; it’s only natural. But they couldn’t help but notice that Jesus got not only respect, he got love and admiration, and now shouts of praise. But something else must be said about the Pharisees. They were doing their best to keep at peace with the Roman government so the government would allow the Jewish people to have more freedom and less oppression. The Pharisees were afraid that if the crowds surrounding Jesus got carried away, the Roman government would send in more troops, and the Jews would lose what few freedoms they had. So they said to Jesus, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” That was the second voice in the parade and an ominous one. It is because of this voice that we refer to this day not only as Palm Sunday but also as Passion Sunday. Because it was on this day, that the week of Jesus’ suffering began; so we call it “passion week” the days leading up to Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. The voice of divine assurance But there was still another voice at that parade. Its tone was so high that no ordinary ear could hear it. Jesus was the only one at the parade that day who detect it. But it was the strongest voice of all. When the Pharisees asked Jesus to stop his disciples from their celebration, Jesus answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” You see, Jesus was declaring that God’s kingdom was coming and that there was nothing that could stop it. If Jesus’ followers didn’t shout the Good News, nature itself would make a statement. And the issue was so big, so irresistible, so domineering that the voice of nature would go beyond the traditional voices of the songs of the birds or even the roar of the wind and the sea: The stones, the most inarticulate objects of nature, the rocks would broadcast their announcement. I think that at this moment some of you who are somewhat imaginative or poetic have gotten a step ahead of me. Someone is saying, “That’s what happened at Easter! A stone got a voice: The stone that was rolled back from Jesus’ tomb was a voice declaring throughout the ages that Jesus Christ is Lord — Lord not only over Israel, but Lord over sickness and death and hell. That stone at the tomb got a voice on Easter Sunday.” But Jesus was saying much more than that. He was declaring that sooner or later the purposes of God will be fulfilled in our world, and that nothing can get in the way of God’s final purposes. Our doubts, our knowledge and our reasoned judgment rise up to protest. We point to the signs of the times, to modernity and post-modernity. We say that the media seems to be dominated by cheap and shoddy values, so that a generation is now coming of age that has never heard a moderating voice for purity and integrity. And someone else points out that many outstanding scholars, scientists, political and economic analysts, and poets and playwrights seem to have forgotten that there is something called religion; they live and study and write as if God did not exist. The voices along our contemporary parade route are godless voices. One can hardly hear the prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” because it is drowned out by secular, materialistic voices that drum in our ears day after day and night after night. But Jesus answers, “Don’t worry. God will give a voice to the stones.” I respect the power of the media, even when I am troubled by their obvious lack of conscience. And I surely respect the work of scholars and poets and political leaders, and I pray that they will more often reflect the spirit of Christ. But I have learned, by my study of history and by my years on this earth that when all the tides of power seem opposed to the purposes of God, God can speak through the stones. God will find a voice in unlikely places, unexpected movements and often in unimpressive people. If the Pharisees with their political and religious power miss the purposes of God and grow silent, and if threats silence the voices along the parade route, have no fear God is hear: God can give a voice to the stones. The God’s purposes are at work in our world, and always will be. It is our call to further those purposes by our prayers, our love, our service, our thinking and our vibrant living. Maybe, indeed, by being ourselves! One of God’s liveling stones. |
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