How many people went down to the city centre last year to see Tom Daley’s return from the World Diving Championships? I had forgotten all about it, until I was walking down Armada Way and saw all the crowds lining Royal Parade waiting for him to go past. But there is something special, isn’t there, about welcoming home a returning hero? The open-top bus, the cheering crowds, the reception afterwards. It’s something that seems increasingly commonplace for any sportsman or team who has won a major event, and I believe Plymouth Argyle had a similar parade a few years back when they topped their division. Something tells me, however, that they won’t be holding one this year.
Now our passage from Luke’s gospel this morning is also about a welcome home parade for a hero, although, as we shall see, it was a welcome home with a difference. Of course, in those days there weren’t open top buses, but there were plenty of other ways of making an entrance. A king, for example, might ride into a city on a warhorse or in a chariot, or, rather like our own Queen going to the state opening of Parliament, he could have a magnificent carriage to ride in. But this welcome home parade began with Jesus choosing a young donkey as His choice of travel.
And at first glance that seems a very odd choice. If you’ve ever been to the seaside and ridden a donkey, you will know that a donkey is a slow, plodding sort of animal - that is, assuming you can get it to move in the first place. That’s precisely why it is so ideal for seaside rides and for carrying heavy burdens. It is an animal of work, and hard, physical labour, but not, you’d imagine, the sort suitable for victory parades and royal entrances. You could hardly expect the Queen, for example, to ride up the Mall on a donkey to Buckingham Palace, or the Prime Minister to use one in his visits.
Yet this welcome home parade begins with Jesus giving strict instructions to his friends to find a particular young donkey. Why? Well, there are several answers to this. Back in the Old Testament the prophet Zechariah wrote these words in chapter 9 verse 9 to the people of his day: Rejoice greatly, O Daughter of Zion! Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. And Jesus’ choice of animal was directly bound up with this prophecy. He was making to those who had eyes to see a clear statement that He was indeed the long-promised king of God’s people, that He was the righteous one who was bringing salvation. But if the people thought this meant He would sweep into town, and sweep away the occupying Roman forces, they were sorely mistaken. This king would come in gentleness and humility and peace, not to rule over people with all the trappings of authority, but as a servant, willing to give up everything for those He came to serve.
And there’s no better picture of this than on Maundy Thursday when taking a towel Jesus knelt down and began to wash the grimy, smelly feet of His followers. Yes, Jesus accepted for Himself the title of king, but the kingdom He was about to set up would be nothing like any other kingdom the world has ever seen, or indeed will ever see again. So as this victory parade rolls into town, on the one hand crowds are putting cloaks down in front of Jesus to almost literally give Him the red carpet treatment, but on the other, Jesus passes among them on a lowly beast of burden. And maybe we can start to see here the first hint of tension between Jesus’ own idea of kingship, and what the crowds were expecting. The crowds had a fixed idea of what Jesus would deliver - physical, political, social liberation. But Jesus’ agenda was completely different. And when later on that week, it became clear that Jesus would not meet the crowds’ expectations they turned on him, and began to shout, “Crucify! Crucify!”
But then, again, how would we have responded if we had been there? It can be so easy with the benefit of hindsight to criticise the crowds for their fickleness, to chide them for not recognising how Jesus was fulfilling this prophecy of Zechariah. But they had plenty of other Scriptures which seemed to indicate that God would indeed come in power and might and majesty as their king. Besides which, if God really did care for them and was concerned about their plight, wouldn’t He actually do something about the situation they found themselves in and give them their freedom?
From that point of view you can start to see how the warmth of Jesus’ welcome home parade so quickly cooled. But at least for now there was one group of people in the crowd who enthusiastically and wholeheartedly welcomed Jesus on his way. These were the men and women who had joined the growing band of disciples throughout His public ministry, and were now thronging around Jesus as He approached the city gate. They were the ones who had seen the power of Jesus at work, the sick healed, the blind made to see, the hungry fed, the dead raised, who had come to see the real ability of Jesus to change lives for good. Indeed many had themselves experienced Jesus’ power in their own lives and could bear testimony to what He had done for them.
And so it was hardly surprising that when Jesus approached Jerusalem they had also words from the Old Testament in mind. For in their eyes this great procession seemed to fulfil the picture from our psalm this morning of the king going up in triumph to the temple, and in their excitement they could do no other than shout out in praise Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD. Because as far they were concerned, this was the moment when God’s purposes were going to be fulfilled on earth as in heaven. And whether or not they had the same expectations as the crowds around them, they certainly believed this would be a crucial point in God’s dealings with His people.
But there were others in the crowd who were far less welcoming to the coming king. These were Pharisees who told Jesus in verse 39 to rebuke His disciples. Because they well understood the meaning of Jesus coming on a donkey and the idea this carpenter from Nazareth could somehow be a king caused them the deepest possible offence. That Jesus’ disciples were also quoting Scripture and treating Jesus as a king was just too much to bear. For if by any remote chance Jesus was king, then He would overturn everything that they stood for. He would spell the end of a cosy, state-sponsored religion where they occupied the top jobs, the end of a professional elite who earned their living by dictating to ordinary people what they could and could not do, the end of the safety and security of doing the same old comfortable rituals.
Jesus however refused to silence His disciples. And maybe it was here at this point that the Pharisees suddenly realised that instead they would need to silence Him, to put to an end this apparent nonsense about Him being some kind of king. Certainly in Luke’s gospel it is only after this point, in verse 47, that we read of the religious leaders in Jerusalem actively plotting to kill Jesus. And, as we know, within a week, they have the support of the crowds who have become disillusioned with Jesus, and at least one disciple who is ready to betray His king.
So it’s not really surprising that the reception Jesus receives ends in tears. But not, as you might expect, the tears of the disciples who realise that by coming to Jerusalem in this way Jesus is in effect signing His own death warrant. Nor the tears of the crowd still longing for freedom from the oppressive Romans. But the tears of Jesus who knows that by rejecting Him as king the people of the city are in fact bringing God’s judgement upon themselves, and that within a generation the city will be laid bare and desolate by the Roman armies. Because instead of accepting His rule, the crowds are still clinging on to this idea of physical liberation. And this in turn will inevitably lead to the disastrous uprising of 66AD where there is revolt against the Roman rule, and to the total destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD where the brutalities Jesus foresaw in such graphic detail come true.
Of course all this happened nearly 2000 years ago. And while it is exciting to remember these events that took place all that time ago, and remind ourselves of a little bit of the history of a troubled city that still grabs the headlines today, what possible relevance can the account of the first Palm Sunday have to us?
Well, maybe the way to begin to answer this question is to ask if there is any miracle Jesus did which still affects our lives. Is there something Jesus did or an action Jesus performed which has had a lasting and permanent effect on human history? The answer, surprisingly, is yes. Because although the Pharisees were successful, and although they managed to have Him nailed to a cross, this was not quite the end of the story. For three days later Jesus rose from the dead. And you don’t just have to take my word for it, or simply believe what it says in the Bible. The resurrection is one of the most researched and most investigated events in human history. And the remarkable thing is, whenever folk have set out to prove it couldn’t really have happened, every time, as far as I’m aware, they have become convinced of its authenticity and its truth. And that is why the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth still impacts of our lives today.
Because, if Jesus has risen from the dead, that means in some sense He is still alive and with us. We are, in other words, not just talking about another dead teacher, or founder of another world religion, or a good person. We are talking about someone who has power over even death itself. And that means that Jesus really is that king Zechariah was talking about, righteous and having salvation. For anyone who has passed through death and come out on the other side must have real power and authority to deal with that one terrible event which overshadows us all.
Which is all very well, you may say, but how all does affect me personally? I can accept that Jesus is in some general sense alive. I can accept He must have some kind of authority because He has defeated death. But how does knowing all this make a difference to the life I lead today?
The very simple answer is that King Jesus also comes to us. Have you ever realised this? Of course He doesn’t come in a physical sense, riding on a donkey. But in a no less real way by the power of His Holy Spirit who is none other than His continued, living presence here on earth. And the wonderful thing is that, although this King Jesus has all the power and might and the authority, the way He comes to us is so often in gentleness and humility and peace. A still small voice within us urging us to pray. A kind of spiritual nudge encouraging us to pick our Bible and read. A word from a friend which, without them knowing, is of immense significance for our lives.
So the real question is, what kind of reception are we going to give Jesus? The Pharisees refused to accept Jesus because all they could see was the end of their comfortable existence and a challenge to their established way of doing things. They could not see that by believing in Jesus they would begin a whole new way of relating to God as Father and knowing the joy and certainty of eternal life. What about us?
Or take again the crowds. They welcomed Jesus for a moment, but then rejected Him when they realised He wasn’t go to do what they wanted. Isn’t there something of the crowd in each and every one of us? If we’re honest, we put all kinds of conditions and restrictions on our faith in Jesus, as if Jesus owed us a favour, rather than the other way round. “I’ll believe in you, Jesus, if you do this or this for me” “I’ll follow you providing I see you answer my prayer in this particular way”.
What about the disciples? Well, they certainly praised God for the wonderful things Jesus had done, and they were certainly warm in their welcome at this point. But I wonder how many of them realised by accepting Jesus as their King, they were going to have to follow Jesus’ example of being rejected and experiencing suffering, even in some instances unto death. Certainly most of them fled when Jesus was arrested. Do we keep on with Jesus when the going gets tough, when we risk being identified as His follower?
It is so easy to say in a service like this that we welcome the presence of Jesus in our lives. But the plain reality is that we do quench His Holy Spirit in so many ways. At least, if you’re anything like me. We don’t want to give up our old ways of doing things. We don’t really want to place Him as Lord over every part of our lives. And we certainly don’t want to imagine that we might be called to share in His sufferings. And it’s then when we decide what we do or don’t want, that we close ourselves off from King Jesus Himself knocking on the door of our heart.
So this Palm Sunday I believe is a chance for us to all consider where we actually stand before the Lord. Maybe some of us have never really welcomed Jesus into our hearts. Maybe some have experienced something of the Holy Spirit in the past, but have recently been focused more on other goals and other ambitions. Maybe some of us are aware that our praise of Jesus is not really matched by a desire to live for Him.
But wherever you exactly stand this morning, the good news is that a fresh start is possible with Jesus at any time. Earlier on in Jesus’ ministry when He visited the temple on a separate occasion He stood up and said these words, referring to the Holy Spirit: If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him. That is Jesus’ promise to you. No matter who you are, no matter where you are at this precise moment. So what is it then that is stopping from you from welcoming Jesus into your heart and experiencing a fresh touch of His Holy Spirit?
Let us pray...
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