Once upon a time, before television, there was radio. You know what radio is--television without pictures. Well, before television, one of the most popular daytime radio programs was called "Queen for a Day." If I remember it correct-ly (and it was a long time ago!), each day four or five women from the studio audience would tell the host what they would like to have and do if they could be "Queen for a Day." And then, on the basis of applause, one woman was chosen, and insofar as they were able, the sponsors fulfilled her wildest desires. She was given a number of valuable prizes and for one day she reigned as "Queen."
That sounds like what happened to Jesus, doesn't it? Jesus was crowned "King for a Day" on that first Palm Sunday. The crowds ran after Him, spread their garments before Him on the street, and waved palm branches. But just a few days later, they were gone. And what we sometimes call the "triumphal entry" of Jesus into Jerusalem turned out to be the temporarily triumphal entry. As one poet put it:
They pluck their branches and hail Him as King, Early on Sunday.
They spread their garments, hosannas they sing, Early on Sunday.
But where is the noise of their hurrying feet,
The crown they would offer, the sceptre, the seat?
Their King wanders hungry, forgotten in the street,
Early on Monday. --Edwin McNeill Poteat.
John Reed (1887-1920) was an American journalist who wrote a famous eyewitness account of the 1917 Russian Revolution titled TEN DAYS THAT SHOOK THE WORLD. I suggest that what happened during that eventful week from Palm Sunday to Easter shook the world in a far greater fashion than any other human revolution. This one week in the life of our Lord, which we call "Passion Week," forever changed our relationship to God and our understanding of the nature of God. It was "The Week (actually eight days) That Shook the World." The week began on what we call "Palm Sunday," commemorating Jesus' "Triumphal Entry" into Jerusalem. And He came riding on a donkey.
Years ago I came across a fascinating sentence in Leslie Weatherhead's little book, PERSONALITIES OF THE PASSION. He is talking about Mary, the mother of Jesus, and the birth narratives in the Gospels. He said: "...one almost catches one's breath in wonder at the risks God took. For it seemed as though the salvation of the world depended upon the faltering footsteps of a donkey." (PERSONALITIES OF THE PASSION, New York: Abingdon Press, 1948, p. 113) It occurs to me that, here again, on Palm Sunday the salvation of the world was riding on the faltering footsteps of a donkey. Chesterton's poem "The Donkey" suggests that the donkey understood the importance of the role he played on that fateful day when Jesus rode into the Holy City amid the cheers of the crowd:
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry,
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
Of all four-footed things!
The tattered outlaw of the earth
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me; I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet;
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
--G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936)
Yes, for the second time in history "the salvation of the world depended upon the faltering footsteps of a donkey."
Luke's account of the Palm Sunday parade begins in Bethany, which was sort of a bedroom community for Jerusalem, located just two miles east of the Holy City, over the Mount of Olives. Bethany is where Jesus usually stayed when in the Jerusalem area, probably at the home of Mary and Martha and Lazarus. On this particular morning, as Jesus started for Jerusalem, He sent a few of His students on ahead to secure for Him a special means of transporta-tion. There is symbolic significance associated with a King riding a burro into the Holy City. When a powerful conqueror came to crush and overpower a city, he rode a great stallion. But if he came in peace, he came riding a burro, a symbol of that peace.
So Jesus sent two of His students to find such an animal for Him. But how did He know where one was to be found? The traditional answer is that God somehow miraculously communicated this information to Him. Jesus had known such things before, so perhaps this was another example of his extra-ordinary spiritual awareness. But on the other hand, Jesus rarely used such powers for His own personal benefit.
A simpler explanation might be found in the possibility that Jesus had traveled this route many times before and had often seen the colt. It was common back then for people to hire out their animals for those going on a journey--sort of a first-century "Avis rent-a-donkey." Either way, the point is not lost; the colt had never been ridden before. It was a special animal set aside for a special purpose.
"The Lord has need," said Jesus' students. And the owner of the animal gave it forthwith. At least a couple of sermons could be preached on the subject of "the dependence of God," how God needs our cooperation to get His work done in the world; and the immediate response of the animal's owners to Jesus' request for assistance. Most of us would have made up excuses.
"Sorry, I was planning a trip today. I need the animal myself." Where are we when Christ wants to use us? Asking a rhetori-cal question like that can be dangerous. I came across the story of one minister who loved to ask his congregation rhetorical questions like that. In one sermon he was speaking of persons who complain and complain, but who never show up to help. In his sermon the minister said, "Now I ask you, where are these people?"
A little four-year-old girl was sitting with her parents and immediately spoke up, "I don't know!" Well, I don't know, either! At least she was paying attention! When Jesus rode into town, He came riding on a donkey.
Have you ever wondered why this strong, virile, sturdy man from Galilee who had just walked hundreds of miles on foot, and who had just completed a journey down from Galilee, across the Jordan, down through Perea, crossing again at Jericho, and thence up the steep slope from Jericho to Bethany and to Bethphage, suddenly stops and asks for a donkey to ride the last few yards into town? There must have been a reason, and there was.
To understand it, you must understand the Messianic expectations of the Jewish people of Jesus' day, as well as the geography. Jesus was making a strong Messianic statement. Like the prophets before him, He sometimes acted out His message. He certainly had in mind the words of Zechariah 9:9 as He chose to enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey amid the palm branches and glad acclamations of the people. As I said, by tradition, the humble donkey was a symbol of both royalty and peace. Here is the King in the form of a servant, regal, yet humble, proclaiming peace by riding a donkey instead of a war horse. But there is more to it than that.
Matthew, the most "Jewish" of all the Gospels, quickly makes the connec-tion that the other Gospel writers miss. He alone mentions the Zechariah prophecy. Only he gets it a bit garbled, doesn't he? Somehow he manages to forget the Hebrew "poetry of parallelism" and has Jesus riding into the Holy City on BOTH a donkey and a colt. (See Matthew 2:7)
I'd like to know how that was done! In a sermon I once called it "Palm Sunday in Stereo." I think it shows that even the most inspired writer, with the best of intentions, can sometimes treat the Scripture so woodenly he misses the point, or at least part of it.
Jesus picks up the donkey at Bethphage. All the Gospels are agreed on that. And it is a significant point. The exact location of Bethphage is not known. The name means "the house of young figs." A cemetery has been found between Jerusalem and Bethany, and probably belongs to Bethphage. But what is the significance of Jesus' picking up His transportation at Bethphage?
A verse in the Talmud helps us to understand better the events of that first Palm Sunday. The rabbis are discussing how far people were allowed to carry the consecrated Bread of the Thanksgiving Offering because it was not to be found "outside the wall." Rabbi Yohanan says that he heard that this meant not further than the wall of Bethphage.
So, in Jesus' day the wall of Bethphage was considered to be the city limits of Jerusalem. (Mishnah: Menahoth 11:2) When you got to Bethphage, you'd see a sign: "Welcome to Jerusalem." So Jesus was making a very obvious Messianic gesture when he chose to enter the city limits riding on a donkey. He undoubtedly had the words of Zechariah 9:9 in mind...and so did the crowds clamoring with the palm branches.
Though, later on, they were disappointed when Jesus turned out to be a drastically different kind of Messiah than popularly expected. When Jesus rode into town at the beginning of that Passion Week, the crowds lined the streets, and you almost get the impression of a ticker-tape parade down Broadway. But when the broad way of the crowds became the narrow way of the cross, the clamor died down and they began to sing a quite different tune. "Hosanna!" became "Crucify!"
One can only ask: "Where were the crowds a few days later when Jesus really needed them?" Where were the well-wishers when He was in anguish in Gethsemane? Where were they hiding when Jesus was being beaten and scourged? Why did no one step forward when "he suffered, bled and died" on Calvary?
It is amazing how short-lived their enthusiasm was. What went wrong? Well, Jesus disappointed them. In the critical five days between Palm Sunday and Good Friday Jesus completely shattered their illusions. In those five days He cleansed the Temple, cursed the fig tree, predicted the destruction of the Temple, sided with the hungry, the thirsty, the outcast, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned, and the estranged. Then he was arrested, refused to take the sword to defend Himself, and they began to recall His earlier words which they had taken symbolically about taking up a cross and following. Who wants a literal cross? And so the crowds began to thin out.
Ernest Campbell once preached a sermon with the intriguing title, "When the Sugar Comes Off the Pill." A lot of folks thought he was going to talk about a different kind of pill...but he spoke of the fact that sometimes when we think the sweetness will last forever, the sugar comes off and we are left with a bitter taste.
Jesus must have been thrilled with the crowds, but in a few days, the sugar came off the pill, and He saw how superficial it all was. The people were thrilled with Jesus, hoping that He would take arms against their enemies; but the sugar came off the pill when He said, "Put up your sword back into its place, for all who take the sword will perish by it." Note this: When the sugar comes off the pill, what remains may be bitter, but it is the part which does us the most good. As with most pills, the helpful part, the medical part, the saving part, is not in the sugar coating but what remains after the sugar is gone. That is the essence of what we really need.
In the Church's Calendar, liturgists have recently combined Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday into what they now call Palm/Passion Sunday. When I first saw that name, I thought, "I didn't know that palms had any passion!" But behind the palms there was the passion. The passion of the people, expecting a military messiah, only to be disappointed; the passion of the Christ, suffering for His enemies rather than making His enemies suffer. But above all, the passion and sorrow of Christ knowing that those who claimed to be His friends never really understood what he stood for.
He wanted to be a very different kind of King, (a Lover), reigning in a very different kind of kingdom: a kingdom of love. And He still wants to ride into our hearts and lives and into our history, and to reign there as King of kings and Lord of lords. He still weeps that so many of us do not understand what He stands for, and He has the haunting suspicion that if we did, we, too, would probably abandon Him!
I came across a story about that terrible winter at Valley Forge at the beginning of our country's history, when a government official arrived on the scene to obtain a first-hand report on the field situation from General George Washington himself. The government man began complimenting the general on his ability to hold the Army together under such trying circumstances: "General Washington, you are a great leader, a great man, an inspiration to us all," he said.
Whereupon Washington, impatient with all the effusive praise, standing in the midst of his suffering troops, broke in impatiently, and said: "Never mind all that. Just tell me where you stand in relation to the cause I represent." I can imagine Jesus waving aside the Palm branches, our professions of faith and processions of praise, and saying to us: "Never mind all of that. Tell me: where do you stand in relation to the cause I represent?"
On Sunday, Jesus rode into town, and seeks to ride into every town and village. He comes to the gates of our hearts as He came to the gates of Jerusalem. Remember those words of the Book of Revelation? "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me." (Rev. 3:20) He doesn't want our hosannas. He wants our hearts. And He won't be content until He has them.
