A Fourth Church Sermon by John W. Vest

March 28, 2010 | 4:00 p.m. | Palm Sunday

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry

John W. Vest
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Luke 19:28–48

“Hey, dude, nice donkey!”

That’s what I would have said had I been there for Jesus’ “triumphal” entry into Jerusalem. It would have looked ridiculous, a grown man riding on a donkey and being hailed as king. It would have been comical. I would think it was a total farce.

Well, it was a farce of sorts. Or perhaps it was more like a satire.

True enough, the particulars of Jesus’ entry into the city harkened back to a messianic oracle delivered by the prophet Zechariah: “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey.”

But in first-century Jerusalem, how could this very public act not be seen as a subversive snub of the Roman Empire? After all, the Roman Empire had mastered the art of the triumphal entry. In fact, a “triumph” was the festival of honor and acclaim given to Roman generals as they returned to the city victorious in battle. There were great parades and processions. The conquering general would ride into town on a mighty war horse. Majestic arches were erected to honor the triumphed general.

We can imagine the triumphal march of General Titus that took place about forty years after Jesus’ “triumphal” entry. It was Titus who would finally squash the Jewish rebellion against Rome that erupted after Jesus’ time and it was Titus who would destroy the temple in Jerusalem. The sacking of the temple is depicted in boastful fashion in the carvings of the triumphal arch dedicated to Titus, which still stands in Rome to this very day.

Or, back in Jesus’ day, we can imagine an equally magnificent procession into the city of Jerusalem by the Roman governor Pontius Pilate. He was coming from the coastal city of Caesarea, the civilian and military capital of the Roman province of Judea. You can be sure that he was riding on a massive war horse, surrounded by instruments of war, accompanied by patriotic anthems and war songs. His procession was meant to intimidate. His procession was meant to strike fear into the hearts of a subjected, oppressed people.

So you can imagine what a comical sight Jesus’ procession would have been in comparison to these bombastic shows of power and bravado. Instead of a conquering general or powerful overlord riding atop an imposing war horse, we find a peaceful Jewish rabbi riding on a lowly donkey. A casual observer couldn’t help but laugh. What was this fool up to?

But you see, this was much more than a fulfillment of some obscure prophecy.

And it was more than simply a mocking of imperial power.

It was a startling message of peace.

Jesus could have staged a true triumphal entry. He could have ridden into town on a powerful horse, perhaps even a war horse. He could have signaled loud and clear that he was here to wage war—a war on Rome, a war on Satan.

But he didn’t. Instead he came riding on a donkey. There are some ancient traditions that associate horses with war and donkeys with peace. If this is the case, Jesus literally came in on a symbol of peace. He wasn’t declaring war at all. Or if he was, it would be a kind of war unlike any the world had known before.

You see, Jesus turned the very idea of a triumphal entry on its head. And in doing so, he made clear that he was about doing something completely different.

It is in this declaration that we discover the true meaning of Jesus’ farce, Jesus’ subversive mockery of Rome.

“Hey, dude, nice donkey!”

I don’t know that I would have understood this deeper meaning in that moment.

I wonder how many, if any, of his disciples did?

We are quite like his disciples in the sense that we don’t always get it. We hear these stories over and over, but we don’t always understand their implications. Our imaginations fail us. Our limitations hinder us.

So, now, let us continue our worship by reflecting on our shortcomings as disciples, joining our voices in the prayer of confession . . .

The Rest of the Story
Luke 19:41–48

What in the world is Jesus up to? First he rides into town in full, subversive mockery of the Roman Empire. He stages a satire of Roman triumphal entries.

The message of this probably depended on the perspective of the observer. For some, it was no doubt a call to war. I’m sure there were some who interpreted this as the triumphal entry of a military messiah hell-bent on overturning the Roman Empire. For sure, there were some Jewish and Roman leaders who thought of it this way, using such sentiment to portray Jesus as an insurrectionist, attempting to supplant the power of the Roman Empire with his own; he was portraying himself as a Jewish king, a challenger to absolute Roman control.

But to others, to those who had eyes to see what Jesus was really doing, he was proclaiming peace instead of war. He was exposing the powers of the world for the corrupt and dehumanizing forces that they are. He was accepting the mantle of king, reluctantly perhaps, but in such a way that he redefined everything that his world—and ours—had come to understand. Instead of war and domination, he announced peace and justice. Instead of a war horse, he came riding on a donkey.

This theme carries over into the next scene of this story. As he sees the beloved city of Jerusalem, he breaks down and weeps. “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” He longed for his city to embrace peace. He longed for his people to be free, but not at the price of becoming the very thing they wanted to escape. What good would it do to return violence with violence? What good would it do to fight oppression with more oppression? What good would it do to conquer evil by partaking in evil?

No, his battle would not be fought with swords and chariots and instruments of war. His battle was one over the hearts and minds of people. He came to show the way of peace. He came to demonstrate what it means to love God with your entire being and to love your neighbor as yourself, to love even your fiercest enemy.

But his city would not listen, and he could see the proverbial writing on the wall. He could see that Jerusalem was heading for destruction. He knew that Jerusalem’s warring ways and deep divisions and inability to imagine solutions beyond the ways of worldly power would be its downfall.

He had an alternative. He taught it openly. He lived it out in his own life.

But they would not listen. And so he wept.

And then he did something rather shocking. He went into the temple and did exactly the opposite of what those who understood his tears might have expected. He turned over tables. He breathed fiery condemnations. He seemed to be instigating a riot. He seemed to be provoking the people in power, challenging them to show their cards and execute their wrath upon him.

What happened to the prince of peace? What happened to the meek and humble man riding on a donkey? Had he in fact beaten his plowshare into a sword? Had he exchanged his donkey for a war horse? Had he himself succumbed to the frenzied rage of the masses?

It seems that our master not only speaks in parables but acts in paradoxes. It seems that Jesus is deliberately trying to throw us off guard, to challenge our minds and hearts to embrace the profound message he has been sharing and living.

And today is only the first day of the week. Today is only the beginning of a week that will surely challenge us more than we have been challenged before. We will see and experience things that we don’t expect. Our hearts and minds will be provoked to new highs and painful lows.

Before arriving here in Jerusalem, Jesus spoke openly to us about coming here to die. It seems that his actions on this perplexing and exhausting day have moved him closer to that fate.

What in the world is Jesus up to? Where is he leading us? What is he calling us to do?

Benediction

Have you decided to follow Jesus? He is leading us to places known and unknown. He is walking to places even he doesn’t want to go. Will you follow him?

As he begins his journey on this first day of the week, perhaps he has in mind these words from the prophet Isaiah.

The Lord God has given me
the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain
the weary with a word.
Morning by morning he wakens—
wakens my ear
to listen as those who are taught.
The Lord God has opened my ear,
and I was not rebellious,
I did not turn backward.
I gave my back to those who struck me,
and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face
from insult and spitting.

The Lord God helps me;
therefore I have not been disgraced;
therefore I have set my face like flint,
and I know that I shall not be put to shame;
he who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
Let us stand up together.
Who are my adversaries?
Let them confront me.
It is the Lord God who helps me;
who will declare me guilty?
All of them will wear out like a garment;
the moth will eat them up.

Who among you fears the Lord
and obeys the voice of his servant,
who walks in darkness
and has no light,
yet trusts in the name of the Lord
and relies upon his God?
But all of you are kindlers of fire,
lighters of firebrands.
Walk in the flame of your fire,
and among the brands that you have kindled!
This is what you shall have from my hand:
you shall lie down in torment.
(Isaiah 50:4–11)