A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — March 28, 2010
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Text:  Zechariah 9:9-10;  Luke 19:28-42  —  Palm Sunday

As [Jesus] came near and saw the city, he wept over it,
saying “If you, even you, had only recognized on this
day the things that make for peace!” — Luke 19:41-42

The New Revised Standard Version of the Bible labels this story in all four gospels as “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.”  But did you notice that in Luke’s story Jesus’ entry doesn’t seem all that triumphant?  We call this Sunday before Easter Palm Sunday and celebrate with palms, processions, and hymns like “All Glory, Laud and Honor,” while imagining adoring crowds of people welcoming Jesus to Jerusalem with hosannas and glad shouts of joy. But Luke offers us another picture entirely—one that is different from the other three gospels, with no cheering crowds, no victory palms, no hosannas of triumph.

The disciples are the only ones crying out and raising a ruckus, calling out about a king of peace who comes in the name of God.  They do seem to draw a crowd of curious onlookers, but the crowd remains silent except for some Pharisees who object to what the disciples are crying out so loudly.  They object because they recognize what is going on here.  This isn’t a triumphant victory parade, but rather Jesus and his followers are engaged in a pointed, political demonstration making a public declaration of just who this Jesus is.

 

By the end of his gospel, Luke will show the ultimate victory of resurrection, but before that will come suffering and death.  So Luke plays down victory at this point, because this procession of Jesus and his disciples is actually a prelude to tears—our tears at the cross and Jesus’ tears upon seeing Jerusalem.  Luke is the only one to tell this part of the story, to show us Jesus stopping before he enters the city and weeping over its inability to even recognize the ways that make for peace.

It’s easy for us to miss the political implications here.  For we tend to assume that this is merely a religious story about a religious occasion… and that “religion and politics don’t mix.”  But the political implications would have been absolutely clear to the Pharisees.  If nothing else, when the disciples cry out—“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”—they are making an overt political statement.  For Israel had no king—at least not a true king.  After all, this was occupied territory.  Herod was king only because Imperial Rome appointed him, and he had to report to the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate.  So the disciples’ public declaration is both inflammatory and treasonous.

And the deeper symbolism of what Jesus and his followers were doing and saying would never have escaped the Pharisees.  When Jesus comes riding upon a colt that has never before been ridden, he is symbolically asserting a specific type of rule that challenges both Herod and Rome.  For he is assuming the role of the humble king proclaimed by the prophet Zechariah—riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey, not on a warhorse, for this is a king whose rule would banish all weapons and bring peace for all.  Even as the disciples bless such a king, they go on to declare peace.  And when the Pharisees object, Jesus responds with a quote from the prophet Habakkuk, part of a warning against flagrant forms of political and economic exploitation, “The very stones will shout out!”

At this point it’s important for us to remember that the Biblical notion of “peace” goes far beyond public order or the absence of war.  The Hebrew word is shalom—a word with no exact equivalent in English.  Shalom encompasses wellness, wholeness, harmony, welfare, and peace.  It is God’s gift of wholeness-in-community, a social reality that embodies grace and radical equality, where all have enough, where forgiveness abounds, and where all are fully included in the common life.  This is what is lacking when Jesus looks out over Jerusalem and weeps.  And this lack is a tremendous irony, for the very name, “Jerusalem,” refers to peace—Jeru’s shalom.  “Salem” means peace—hence “the city of peace.”

And so Luke’s entire story concerns a political broadside against both Herod and Rome.  Jesus is rocking the proverbial boat!  So it’s no wonder the Pharisees object so strongly to what is going on!  And it’s no wonder that Jesus dies within a week at the hands of the political and religious powers-that-be!  The political implications of Jesus’ life and ministry are a constant theme throughout Luke’s gospel, from Jesus’ very first sermon in Nazareth, proclaiming good news to the poor, release to the captives, and freedom for the oppressed, right up to his entry into Jerusalem weeping tears at the city’s refusal of the ways of shalom.

Still, there are many people who continue to maintain that “religion and politics don’t mix.”  What I think what they usually mean is “Your religion doesn’t mix with my politics.”  It may sound like fairness to say, “The church shouldn’t take political stands.”  But as South African Bishop Tutu is fond of pointing out, “When the elephant has his foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”  There is no doubt in my mind that the Bible has a fundamental concern with justice, equity, and shalom for all people—especially the poor and oppressed.  When the prophet Amos declares, “Let justice roll down like waters” [Amos 5:24], we must not ignore the practicalities of putting together the irrigation system to distribute the waters (also known as “social justice”).

The “politics” at issue are generally the concerns of powerful and the privileged.  A constant throughout history is that the powers-that-be wield their power and wealth to their own advantage by influencing laws and defining the problems, anything to maintain the status quo that benefits them.  For instance, it is common to assert that the poor are the real problem when it comes to poverty.  They need to be more responsible, make better decisions, and work harder.  If they don’t, then it’s their own fault they’re poor.  But the more I read and study the Bible, the more I realize that the it calls us to a different understanding, a change of mind and heart.  Throughout scripture, it is always the other way around.  It’s the rich and powerful who are responsible.  There are poor people because certain rich people have stacked the deck and taken advantage of them.  Oscar Romero, the martyred Roman Catholic bishop in El Salvador, gave expression to this Biblical insight by always calling the many poor in his country not los pobres, “the poor,” but los apobrecidos—“the impoverished,” the ones who have been made poor.

When I first looked at today’s lectionary text and went on to read about Jesus weeping over Jerusalem’s failure to recognize the things that bring about shalom, I realized that Jesus would find much to weep over in our world today.  To begin, he’d certainly still be weeping over Jerusalem, where lack of peace is so apparent, where 95% of the Palestinians in the city are defined as permanent residents but not citizens of Israeli.  Thus they are denied numerous economic and social rights including the right to vote in national elections—this despite having been born and lived their entire lives in the city.  In the eastern part of this “city of peace,” Palestinian homes that have been in one family for generations have been summarily torn down and the land confiscated for Jewish settlements.  Just 19 days ago, even as Vice-President Biden was in Jerusalem on a peace mission, Israel announced plans to build 1600 additional new housing units for Jewish settlers in East Jerusalem, displacing yet more Palestinians and undermining ongoing peace negotiations.  Yes, Jesus weeps.

I can hardly open a newspaper or turn on the TV without encountering instances of a political and economic climate that would make him weep as well.  Despite an nearly 2-1 statewide vote to cap annual interest at 28%, payday lenders exploited a loop-hole in Ohio state law to continue charging nearly 400% interest, using a business model that preys on people who are already victims of economic hardship.  An attempt to close the loophole has been stalled in the state legislature for almost a year now, the result of vigorous lobbying by the payday lenders.    Money talks.  Passage of healthcare reform has been met by acts of vandalism and threats of violence initially against Democratic representatives and senators and now against a few Republicans.  Both parties have repudiated violence.  But the Republican website still depicts House Speaker Nancy Pelosi engulfed in flames, and one party leader’s Facebook page singles out the Democratic districts of reform supporters by gun sight crosshairs.  Before the vote, numerous acts of incivility, hatred, homophobia, and racism were directed at reform supporters—including an incident here in Columbus last week where several reform opponents taunted and humiliated a man sitting on the ground with a sign saying he had Parkinson’s disease.  Since the vote, feelings and rhetoric continue to run high on both sides.  There is no peace.

Economic disparities in America are greater than at any time since the Robber Barons of the Gilded Age more than a century ago.  The rich get richer, the poor get poorer, and the middle class struggles just trying to stay afloat.  High unemployment and rising home foreclosure rates place ever-greater strains on both government and private social services.  Meanwhile more and more states face budget shortfalls that are likely to force drastic funding cuts for those same social services.  At the same time we continue to increase military spending year by year as we fight wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Oh yes, Jesus has every reason to weep.

Now, it is certainly part of our mission as the church to engage in acts of charity—to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless.  But it is also clear that there is scriptural warrant for churches to promote the cause of social justice.  When all do not have enough to live—be it adequate food or shelter or education or access to health care—there is no shalom.  We have a corporate and communal responsibility on behalf of the impoverished and the oppressed—those made poor, whether by unjust political decisions, by health and education systems filled with inequalities, or by a market system that is often kinder to companies than to people.  In such matters, we as the church can offer both insight and awareness concerning those things that make for justice and shalom.  If this involves us in politics, so be it.  We are but following in the way of our Lord.

Earlier, I referred to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem as a prelude to tears—our tears at the cross and Jesus’ tears at the city’s failure to know the ways of shalom.  Since today is also Passion Sunday, I want to read Luke’s account of the passion as a way for us to remember Jesus’ trial before the powers-that-be and the grief of his crucifixion.

 

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A reading of Luke 23:1-49 from Eugene Peterson's The Message

(click HERE for the text)

 

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Next Sunday is Easter—when we will proclaim the victory of Jesus’ resurrection.  And so the tears of crucifixion will be wiped away.  But by next Sunday little will have changed in our world, and Jesus’ tears will remain as he weeps for our world, crying out, “If you, even you, could only recognize the things that make for shalom!  But right now they are hidden from your eyes.” 

O Lord, open our eyes and help us to see!  Amen and amen.