What Makes for Peace
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.’
Last year on Palm Sunday, we weren’t back in the church yet; we were shouting hosannahs from our living rooms, together, but apart. Last year, our Palm Sunday text was from Mark, the most… for lack of a better word, boring, of the four Gospels. But you know, it was kind of appropriate for last Palm Sunday. I think a lot of us, myself included had really thought, just a few weeks before Lent, that we would be back in person for Palm Sunday and Easter. I think a lot of us were naïve, a little too optimistic, and disappointed.
Well, we’re back this year—and we’re looking forward to, hopefully, remaining back. And we’re looking forward to, hopefully, better days ahead, though the world continues to look a little bleak. But we’re still looking forward. And that’s why Luke’s version of the procession into Jerusalem, that Kyle just read for us, is appropriate for this year; because Luke’s version is all about looking forward. This whole passage is all prophetic. It’s taking from the prophets Zechariah and Samuel, as the three other gospels do; but it also borrows from Habakkuk, one of the lesser prophets—that strange final verse in this passage: [Jesus] answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’ It’s a strange turn of phrase, and it seems to come out of nowhere. That’s taken directly from Habakkuk—referring to the oppressive Babylonians, Habakkuk had written: “‘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’s really intense, angry, and passionate prophetic language coming form an occupied people.
You know, it wasn’t until I was actually studying religion in college that I started to get a real feel for, and a real affinity for Holy Week and all worst of the realities of humanity that it entails. As a kid, except for maybe a couple times with the youth group, I never really went to any Maundy Thursday or Good Friday services. I went on Palm Sunday, I waved my palm around, I attempted to origami the palms into crosses and failed miserably. We never, that I remember at least, had any focus on the Passion Sunday part of Palm Sunday. And looking back at past bulletins for this church to get a feel for Palm Sunday, I noticed that you all always did include a Passion Sunday narrative of sorts, which I really, really love. Because if you skip over Passion Sunday stuff, if you skip over Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, you’re really only left with the celebrations, without reason for the celebrations. And it seems our lectionary would like to only include the celebrations as well but, Luke certainly doesn’t. And I say this because what immediately follows Jesus’ regal entrance is this—verses 41-44:
As he 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! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.’
That, language, to me, feels really similar to Habakkuk’s in his lament over his peoples’ occupation by the Babylonians, especially when you take into account the fact that he quotes directly from Habakkuk. But the difference is this: Habakkuk was talking about the oppressive Babylonians, and how he wants their oppressive kingdom to finally topple; Jesus is talking about us. He’s talking about humanity as a whole, and he’s doesn’t want this for us. He’s quite literally weeping about it. He’s weeping about the fact that he is trying to bring peace and equity to this world, and we just can’t or won’t understand that. He’s taking the prophesies of old, and, as he does with everything, turning it upside down, inverting it, into something tragic, and full of frustration and Love. And so, Jesus entry into Jerusalem isn’t especially happy for him. Because he’s seeing the future—he’s seeing what awaits him, he knows what awaits him, what must happen in the immediate future.
I wonder if you all noticed that not only are there no palms in this reading, but there are also no hosannahs. We talked last year about the fact that “hosannah” actually means “save us.” I find myself wondering what the significance of this is—I find myself wondering if the people of Jerusalem, in Luke’s version of this story, didn’t think, or didn’t believe they needed saving; and I wonder about the lack of palms too. And I’m also finding myself up here thinking, this isn’t a very good Palm Sunday passage! The accompanying psalm option for this week is 118, which, in verses 25-27 reads, “Save us, we beseech you, O Lord! / O Lord, we beseech you, give us success! / Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. / We bless you from the house of the Lord. / The Lord is God, / and he has given us light. / Bind the festal procession with branches, up to the horns of the altar.” That sounds a lot more appropriate for today, doesn’t it? And yet, the only thing Luke borrows from Psalm 118 is “Blessed is the king / who comes in the name of the Lord!” And he tellingly adds “king” to it.
See, palms were kind of political in their day—they usually had a very nationalistic feel, they were usually about victory in war, victory of adversaries… but in Luke, the people lay their cloaks down instead of palms or branches. In Luke, they don’t plead for Jesus to save them. They simply treat him as a genuine king, and call him as such. “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Luke was all about looking ahead—looking ahead to a day when there would be no more nations, no more borders; looking ahead to the day when there would be no more need for palms or branches or exclamations of victory through violence, when there would be no more need for people to yell “hosannah! save us!” And yet, despite this great hope, Jesus wept over Jerusalem, saying “If you…had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” The things that make for peace. Those who praised Jesus as king were looking forward to Jesus, who makes peace; they were looking ahead to a world where peace is the norm, and occupation is no more. But unfortunately, Jesus knew what would come before that; he knew the prophesy. He knew the good and hopeful prophesies and he knew the bad ones. Jesus’ followers calling him king and laying down their cloaks were ready for that peace, but the rest of the world wasn’t. The rest of the world couldn’t recognize “the things that make for peace.”
This emphasis on peace is also unique to Luke—another reason why this passage is so perfect for this year’s Palm Sunday— we’re looking ahead, looking forward to peace, but it is not here yet. And it is clear that this world still does not recognize the things the make for peace. Before Jesus could get to the resurrection and to eternal life, before he could show us what is possible on an earth as it is in heaven, he had to experience the worst of humanity. And knowing what was ahead for him, he wept.
I imagine that today, Jesus is weeping for Kyiv. And I imagine Jesus continues to weep for Yemen. And Myanmar and Kabul and Honduras the list goes on, and included in that list is certainly America. Maybe there isn’t an official war happening here but the violence, the division that is rampant in this country shows that we are far from understanding “the things that make for peace.” When, last week it was announced that there would be no justice in the senseless death of another young Black man, Amir Locke, killed in his own home by the state after a no-knock warrant; when state after state after state is enacting laws that gut women’s healthcare; laws that further endanger already the already ultra-vulnerable population of trans teenagers. These things do not make for peace. And so Jesus weeps.
Jesus has entered Jerusalem, and Jesus is surely here, amidst all this chaos and violence. Jesus is worshipped, Jesus is praised, and yet Jesus weeps. Because Jesus knows what is ahead.
There is hope, Church—we see it in the disciples to welcome Jesus as the prince of peace. We see it in this church today, in your work every day in and outside of this space working to truly bring God’s kingdom to this realm. We do know what things make for peace, and we will continue to do the work to make sure everyone sees what those things are— the elimination of borders, the real work of equity, unity and Love… We see that glimmer of hope, that sliver possibility of an earth as it is in Heaven. But before we can see that far forward, we have to get through what comes next… Amen.
