Sermon 24th March 2013
Today, our Vicar, Cameron Barker, preaches based on the reading from Luke 19 verses 28-40.
So:
how’s your Latin?! If I were to say, “Vox populi, vox Dei”, who would know what that means? “The voice of the
people is the voice of God”. Well, wouldn’t life be so much simpler if that
saying was true! Wouldn’t it be great if all we had to do to know what God
wanted was to take a vote? But, sadly, experience teaches us that all too often
the voice of the people is, in fact, not the voice of God.
It’s
not at all hard to think of countless examples of when that has been the case,
when a popular cause has been far from the will of God. How about the Crusades?
Or the Inquisition? What about the slave trade? Those are just 3 notorious
times in history when people have claimed they knew what God wanted, and then later
been proved badly wrong. But none of those instances comes even close to being
as spectacularly wrong as what we’ve heard today. It just is not possible to be
as wrong about the purpose of God as the crowds were on that first Palm
Sunday.
As
ever, the crowds could make a good case for believing what they did. Those were
exciting times for anyone who had been following the travelling preacher from
Nazareth. For the past 3 years he’d been doing amazing things – as well as
preaching in ways that’d never been heard before. Jesus had given blind people
their sight; he’d made lame people walk; he’d even brought the dead back to
life – and there were numerous witnesses to all these miracles. All sorts of
people had given up their lives to follow him: from hot-headed fishermen; to the
hardest First-Century nuts of all, tax-collectors. Jesus had transformed their
lives too: he’d even sent them out, to preach his message and do his work all
over the place.
Of
all people, we should understand this rather better than most. This Lent adults
here have read through almost this entire story as it’s told by Luke. These
events are fresh in our minds too, then. So, as we reach this day, and come to this
part of the story, we should easily grasp why people thought that in Jesus God
was doing a new and wonderful thing. Even if we do already know how this story
ends, we can see how this event looks like it’s history in making. We may still
need help with why these crowds were sure that any doubts they’d had were being
dispelled before their eyes. So, to spell that out, until now in Luke Jesus stayed
away from Jerusalem, Israel’s religious and political capital. But here Luke
has him coming into the city, in ways that Jesus had obviously chosen to prove
who he truly was. He was riding a donkey, one that he’d maybe acquired in a miraculous
way. But even if there was a natural explanation for it, this was another sign
of Jesus’ identity – and the obvious fulfilment of an Old Testament prophecy
(as Matthew spells out in his Gospel).
As
we heard, Luke laid it on thick – in keeping with Jesus’ own actions and intentions.
There could not have been a more public time for Jesus to arrive. This was the
Passover, the greatest festival of the Jewish religious year. Jerusalem
would’ve been packed with people. At this feast the whole nation came to
celebrate. Their hearts and minds were fixed on God’s deliverance of their
people from slavery in Egypt centuries before. So could there be a better time,
or place, for God to act for Israel again now, as he had done in the past?
The
air around Jesus was ripe with symbolism. The crowd were sure that he had
chosen this moment, and this way, to take the next step on his victorious
journey. And so they began to shout. “God bless (GNB) / Blessed
is (NIV) the king who comes in the
name of the Lord” is what Luke tells us they cried out as they wound their way down
through the Mount of Olives. And in one way they were quite right: Jesus was
the king; he was arriving to do what God wanted. But that was also
precisely the point where the crowd had things so spectacularly wrong.
If
there had been a popular vote on what they thought God should do, the
outcome would have been a landslide. Even the most pacifist religious people
would have voted for God’s judgement to fall on Israel’s Roman occupiers. To
have their God-given land back for themselves was what every 1st-Century
Jew dreamed of. To be safe, under God’s rule, in His kingdom, was a state that they
hadn’t experienced for centuries. They wanted it again; and were sure that this
is what God had promised He was going to do for them.
That
was the voice of the crowd on that first Palm Sunday – in Luke, and in the
other 3 Gospels too. People expected that God was about to rescue them. They
believed they were seeing that starting to happen. And, in a way, Jesus hadn’t
dampened their enthusiasm any. He hadn’t protested when they had put him on
that colt. We know that he was quite capable of not doing what he didn’t want
to. But he hadn’t told the crowd not to put their cloaks on the road. Jesus
hadn’t insisted on approaching Jerusalem by a route that didn’t increase their
excitement. And he knew what the crowd was up to: Jesus was well aware that
this was the grandest sort of welcome – the welcome an Old Testament king could’ve
expected. And he’d let them do it all.
In
Luke, as in the other Gospels, Jesus didn’t even shush the crowd when they
chanted Psalms as their anticipation heightened. That wasn’t unusual: people
often sang as they came up to Jerusalem – as they still do today. But the particular
Psalms that these crowds used were laden with significance. They spoke of God
as king, who’d won the victory, now coming to establish His kingdom, and rescue
his people. The Pharisees certainly understood what the crowd were saying about
who, and what, they thought Jesus was.
Not
for the first time in Luke’s account, they were horrified by this blasphemy
that Jesus was allowing. It’s in Luke alone that they told him to order his
followers to be quiet. Jesus refused: on the contrary, he told Pharisees that
if people were silent, the stones would cry out. Jesus didn’t explain that; but
we can easily read between these lines. He knew this was a key day; that
his arrival deserved to be marked and celebrated in this way. And that surely
only encouraged the crowd to build up their expectations of Jesus even higher.
But
the crowds’ expectations were wrong: dangerously, and spectacularly, wrong. If
they’d only listened to what Jesus had consistently said, time and again,
they’d have known. In Luke’s telling of the story we only need look back to
yesterday’s reading to see what Jesus had actually said. In Jericho, his last
stop, some 18 miles before Jerusalem, Jesus spoke clearly about what was going
to happen. And we know that this wasn’t for the first, but for at least the third,
time that he had done so.
Luke
makes it clear Jesus knew what lay ahead of him in Jerusalem. Far from
what this excited crowd expected, and wanted – Roman downfall; God as king
ruling in Jerusalem – God’s voice spoke in stark contrast to that popular
voice. God’s plan was far greater, and Jesus had known that from the beginning,
as Luke has shown time and again. Jesus knew that what he had to accomplish was
far greater than ‘just’ the restoration of God’s kingdom in Israel. But he
could only achieve that by being the sort of king that the crowd didn’t want.
Back
in January here we heard Luke’s story of Jesus’ temptation by the Devil in the
desert. We saw how the Devil offered Jesus a different, easier way. Jesus was
offered a way to serve and please himself. But we also saw then how Jesus chose
not to be distracted from doing what needed to be done. Even back then Jesus
knew that what he had to do wasn’t for himself. Yes, there would be great
rewards for him too; but that wasn’t the point. This was about opening the way
to God for all people for all time. And Jesus couldn’t accomplish that by
choosing an easy or glorious way for himself.
Simply
put, Jesus knew that he had to die. That was why he had come to Jerusalem now,
at Passover. Yes this was a time of national joy in Israel for their
deliverance. But their safety in Egypt on the night the first-born died had
been at the cost of blood. Now Jesus was here to offer his own blood, as a
sacrifice to set all people free. It would involve pain suffering and
humiliation on scale that we can’t even begin to imagine – though this week there
are opportunities to make the attempt to try and do so.
For
those who don’t know this, when it comes to it, Luke doesn’t pull any punches
about what happened. Even though it’s John’s telling of events that we’ll read
through here on Good Friday, we’re all being invited to read it in Luke as well.
Be prepared: the death that Jesus endured wasn’t easy or sanitised. It was
horrific – which is all that we should expect if we have listened to Jesus in
Luke. Jesus said that he would be mocked, insulted, spit on, whipped and then
crucified. And that is just what rode he into Jerusalem to face on that Palm
Sunday.
Today
isn’t a day to celebrate, then – or not in the way that these crowds did. The
voice of God spoke very different words to those of the crowd. And it’s the
voice of God that we need to listen to, then and now. The voice of God often
says that the easy, popular, seemingly glorious way isn’t the right way. The
voice of God says that the path we may have to walk is the selfless, serving, self-sacrificial
way. We know that in Luke those who accompany Jesus are called ‘followers on
the costly way’. To be a disciple of Jesus is to walk a path that involves suffering
and pain that can be far beyond our worst imaginings. The popular voice may
well tell us that it shouldn’t be like this, that we don’t deserve it. But the
popular voice may well be wrong – as it was so clearly wrong on Palm Sunday.
Now
I’m not saying that any of us can suffer like Jesus did. Of course we can’t, and
won’t. But, whichever Gospel we read, those who follow Jesus are called to be
like him, in his death as much as in his life. And so we need to pay very
careful attention to these final days of his life. We need to note how the
voice of the people was not the voice of God – and how Jesus chose to
hear, and obey God’s voice. Throughout this week above all we need to see and
hear how Jesus remained faithful to God to the end, despite the massive cost.
Jesus ended his life as he had begun it: in obedience, faith, and trust in his
Father God.
The voice of the people
says that Easter is a great Spring holiday. The voice of the people says this
is time to catch the first sun of the year (seeing snow outside, I don’t know
why), to prepare for exams, and to eat lots of chocolate. I’d say that the
popular voice is not the voice of God at Easter. This is time to remember, and
give thanks to God for great sacrifice of his Son. It’s also time to think
about how we’ll live the rest of our life. Will we listen to the popular voice,
and seek an easy, safe and comfortable life for ourselves? Or will we instead
commit ourselves to going God’s way, all the way? Will we follow Jesus’ example
of self-giving to the point of death for the sake of others, and go with him
along this costly way?
This
is the point that our reading of Luke has now brought us to. At whatever level
we may have engaged with it, this is the time to make some kind of a decision. Palm
Sunday shows us the contrast between the voice of God and the voice of the
people. Reality is that it is often true: there is a contrast; the voice of the
people usually is not the voice of God. But which voice will we listen to?
Jesus had to make a choice, one that would determine the fate of many millions
of people. We know that of course he chose to obey the voice of God. The very
least that we can do this week is to celebrate the costly choices that Jesus
made for us. But today we too need to choose which voice we will hear
and obey. So which voice will you decide to heed: the voice of people? Or the
voice of God? Which road will you walk, this Holy Week, and beyond? And
now let’s pray ...