If it Seems to Tarry…

Luke 19:28-40

After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?” just say this: “The Lord needs it.” ’ So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, ‘Why are you untying the colt?’ They said, ‘The Lord needs it.’ Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,
‘Blessed is the king
   who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven,
   and glory in the highest heaven!’
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’

In all four Gospel accounts of the life and ministry of Jesus, Jesus rides upon a donkey into Jerusalem—it is the beginning of the end of the beginning. In all four Gospel accounts, he his fulfilling the prophesy written in Zechariah 14 and 9: “On that day his feet shall stand on the Mount of Olives, which lies before Jerusalem on the east…” and, “…triumphant and victorious is he, / humble and riding on a donkey…”. But our scripture for today, Luke’s version of the story includes something the others do not. This would be the end of our passage today, in which the Pharisees yell at the disciples to quiet down, fearing that they’ll draw the wrong kind of attention from the political authorities—and that they will, but of course, Jesus already knows this. Jesus scoffs at the Pharisees, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” In other words—nothing will stop the momentum that’s started. Nothing can stop what’s about to happen, for better, for worse, and for forever.

But there’s another level to Jesus’ rebuke of the Pharisees here. It’s a reference to the minor Old Testament prophet, Habakkuk. Little is known about Habakkuk, we only know what’s written in his very short prophetic book. The book of Habakkuk is just three chapters— and the first is Habakkuk confronting God about the difficulties he’s experiencing— “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, / and you will not listen? / Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ / and you will not save?” After some time of asking God why their people are suffering so, God does indeed respond—

…there is still a vision for the appointed time;
  it speaks of the end, and does not lie.
If it seems to tarry, wait for it;
   it will surely come, it will not delay.
Look at the proud!
   Their spirit is not right in them,
   but the righteous live by their faith.
Moreover, wealth is treacherous;
   the arrogant do not endure…
They gather all nations for themselves,
   and collect all peoples as their own.

…
‘Alas for you who get evil gain for your houses,
   setting your nest on high
   to be safe from the reach of harm!’
You have devised shame for your house
   by cutting off many peoples;
   you have forfeited your life.
The very stones will cry out from the wall,
   and the plaster will respond from the woodwork.

It is no accident that Jesus chooses this book to quote from. Jesus is making it clear—you can’t stop the momentum… the momentum of an oppressive empire falling, and the peace and the love coming to take its place… the momentum of death itself and the defeat of it. Although God’s response in to Habakkuk seems harsh, it’s meant to be a comfort, it’s meant to be reassurance. It’s meant to assure Habakkuk and his people that though times are difficult now, goodness will win out. Everything that God rails about to Habakkuk— wealth being dangerous, the arrogant not enduring; the extremely wealthy and powerful hoarding nations for themselves, acting as colonizers and imperialists; setting their houses on high, away from the common folk so that they will be protected in their own little bubble— this is what was all still happening, to an even greater extent in Jesus’ day. This is why he makes this sly allusion to this minor prophet— because the broken world he came save was mirroring the same brokenness of the past, the same brokenness that continues to repeat itself over and over and over. And this is why the story of Jesus remains so relevant to us today. This is why we’re still here today, celebrating Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, thousands of years later.

In spite of celebration following Jesus and his donkey on his ride into Jerusalem, Jesus knew he was marching to his death. He was marching to his crucifixion. According to the theologian Jurgen Moltmann, crucifixion was a very specific kind of punishment in the Roman Empire. It was “…a political punishment for rebellion against the social and political order of the Roman Empire.” It was specifically a punishment outside the normal judicial system for the Romans—and let me also be clear, it was not a part of the Jewish judicial system at all—for “crimes against the state.”

And so, in a time in which people are being whisked off with no due process as enemies of the state, for the alleged crime of speaking out against violence, Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and to the cross will ring more true than ever. At a time when the powerful are claiming to be legitimately using wartime loopholes to imprison those who they don’t agree with, in order to uphold what has proven to be a deeply fragile empire, this should feel more prescient than ever. But it’s easy to forget what awaits him when Jesus rides in, humble, yet confident, scoffing off the Pharisees please to quiet down as he is being hailed ‘King.’ Because remember, most Jesus’ followers did not understand what was awaiting him. With the exception of Mary of Bethany, as we talked about last week, his close disciples were willfully ignorant of the fact that Jesus was going to die and rise again. But, to give them a little grace, as I try my best to do, this march into Jerusalem surely confused them even more.

He rides in, humble, on a colt, from the Mount of Olives as the prophesy foretells. People are shouting, “Blessed is the king…” as he comes in. They believed, or the wanted to believe so badly, that this was a march to paradise—that this was a march to end Roman occupation and oppression, that this would finally turn the page on a cruel empire.

But let’s remember that Jesus was never coming to do that. Jesus was ever coming to rule in an earthly, political way. Luke in particular makes this known, as there’s no mention of the lineage of David as Matthew and Mark do; Jesus’ family tree did not matter. He was not an earthly ruler. He was coming to show what a cruel and broken world God’s world had become— and eventually, in his resurrection, he would show them a preview of what could be—a world without end. A world without death.

But. We’re not there yet. Before the preview of a world in which death is defeated, Jesus would have to show his faithful what they were up against. He would have to show his followers that it’s not so easy, and they would have to continue to the work Jesus called them to do long after he was resurrected and ascended. And this is the work we’re still called to do today.

“If [the time] seems to tarry, wait for it; / it will surely come, it will not delay.” God warmly assures Habakkuk. And yet, here we are, thousands of year later, celebrating, but waiting, once again.

But Church—Jesus, and everything he preached and stood for was answer to Habakkuk’s plea to God. This, I believe, is why Jesus subtly paraphrases him in Luke. It’s an extra bit of reassurance that isn’t in the other gospel narratives. Jesus saying “the stones would shout out” is also saying “…there is still a vision for the appointed time; / it speaks of the end, and does not lie,” as God says to Habakkuk. There is an end to the cruelty. There is an end to oppression. There is an end to imprisonment and  to war and to violence and hatred.

The last chapter in Habakkuk is the prophet’s response to God’s response. “…I stand in awe, O Lord, of your work. / In our own time, revive it, in our own time, make it known.”

Though the fig tree does not blossom,
   and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails
   and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold
   and there is no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
   I will exult in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
   he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
   and makes me tread upon the heights.

We got a little off topic at the end of Bible Study last week, and I was talking about my new embrace of and strange comfort in the fact of uncertainty and the physicist Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle that has yet to be disproved—that it proves that we can never absolutely know anything, in the same way that we can never absolutely know God or God’s time; but Rob corrected me saying that one thing is certain—our faith. This is what Habakkuk is singing at the end of his book, and this is what Jesus was subtly saying by quoting him—that no matter what happens after this celebratory moment, no matter what happens in the next week, God is your strength. My love is your strength. So let’s remember that incredible reassurance as we go into Holy Week, and in our lives. Amen.