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Sunday March 23, 2008 "Turning the Tables" Matthew 21:1-17 |
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Location: Blogs Brad's BlogBrad's Sermons |
 | | Posted by: Brad Miller | 3/19/2008 5:49 AM | From the time I first understood that there was something called Holy Week, something has bothered me. Oh, I don’t think I am alone in this; it might bother some of you, too. How could Jesus enter Jerusalem to such a cheering, adoring crowd on Sunday and have the crowd turn against him on Friday?
People have tried to explain it away in lots of ways. But it the explanations all seem to ring just a little hollow to me.
Where was the outcry for the release of Jesus? How quickly could they turn away from Jesus? Was it just human nature?
If we focus on the triumphal entry, and then shift our attention to the betrayal and crucifixion of Jesus, the contrasts are enormous, the possibilities for explanation are many. But it still bothers me.
I am bothered by the crowds actions because I am part of the crowd.
And I don’t think I am being too presumptive to say, at times, we all can identify with the crowd that cheered on Palm Sunday yet made no defense of Jesus on Good Friday.
Identifying with the crowd doesn’t really do us much good though, does it? It is helpful to be honest with ourselves. It is helpful to understand our weaknesses. It is helpful to continue the hard work of overcoming those weaknesses. That is what Lent is all about, after all. But why do we keep focusing on the crowd? The crowd had their day. We need to ask how we can use this passage to learn how to do better.
So, who must we look to in order to achieve that purpose?
We must look to Jesus.
Let’s go back to that day.
The ministry of Jesus had wound it’s way through Galilee and made it’s way toward Jerusalem. As Jesus and his band of followers come closer and closer to the Holy city, Jesus continued to preach, to teach, to heal, to welcome all who came to be with him.
They reached a place called Bethpage which sits on a ridge, overlooking the Kiddron Valley and the city of Jerusalem, and it’s sacred Temple. A Jewish tradition identifies Bethpage as the place where a battle would take place that would mark the end of the age. This idea would not have been lost on early audiences of this text: they would know that something big was about to happen.
Go with me to that ridge, as we stand with Jesus on the Mount of Olives, wondering just what would happen next.
As we look toward Jerusalem on this dry, hot day, the city almost pulsates in the noon day sun. The valley that separates us from the gate to the city is about ¾ of a mile wide. We must descend down some 100 feet and then back up some 100 feet to enter the city.
As we shield our eyes, Jesus says to two of us, “Go down just outside the gate and you’ll find a donkey and its colt tied up. Untie them and bring them back.”
The two disciples look at each other as if to say, “He wants us to steal a donkey and a colt?”
Jesus chuckles and answers, “Don’t worry, if anyone says anything, just tell them “The Lord needs them” and they’ll give them right up.”
The two head down the road to complete the task.
The rest of us find some shade under an olive tree – they’re all over the place up here – and wait.
If you look over there, Jesus has gone off by himself. He is reclining on a rock, eyes closed, face impassive. “Is he asleep?” the person next to us whispers. No one is sure. To me, it looks like he is preparing himself for something; steeling himself for what is to come. This will, after all, be the first time he has journeyed into this important city since he became famous.
After a while, the two come back, smiling and babbling about how the donkey and colt were just where Jesus said they would be, and they were asked what they were doing, just like Jesus said they would be, and when they told them what Jesus told them to say, the owner quickly untied them and handed them over, just like Jesus said they would.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a small smile cross Jesus’ face, amused at the astonishment of these two disciples.
Off we go, headed toward the city. We load Jesus up on the donkey, where he rides while the rest of us walk beside him and in just a very few minutes time, we are coming close to the looming entrance to this great, great city.
As we get closer, the fig stands and the fabric merchants carts have spilled out of the city proper and line the walkway into the gate. As we come by, the whispering begins. First it is low and conspiratorial, but gradually it becomes punctuated by shouts of “He’s Coming! Jesus of Nazareth is coming!”
This of course brings even more people out to see what is going on and slowly but surely, the crowd grows, the level of noise rises, and then something strange begins to happen: people start taking off their cloaks, and pulling out palm fronds and they start laying them down in front of us, much like a carpet being laid out to keep the dust down.
The crowd noise has changed now. It is no longer low and questioning. Now it is loud and exuberant: Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to the Son of David!
This goes on for quite awhile as we wind our way through the old crowded streets. People can be seen running away from us, going to alert others to what is going on. It gets to the point where it seems like every window has someone hanging out of it; every shop door is crammed with people; the roads are choked with children and dust and those pressing to get close to Jesus.
And as we continue on, we can hear the voices trail away in our wake: “Was that really him? Yes! It was Jesus the prophet! Jesus of Nazareth, come from Galilee.”
As we near the temple, that amazing building constructed by Solomon and enhanced by Herod, that holiest of places for the faithful Jew, the crowds start to calm down. They understand that Jesus is headed to the temple, and in reverence, the crowds become quieter, orderly, clearing a wide place for Jesus to disembark his ride and climb the steps of the temple.
As we near the top of steps of the outer courtyard, Jesus comes to a stop and from where we stand, we can see the anger rising in him. His fists clench – open and closed, open and closed, open and closed - the veins on his neck start to pulsate and his face flushes red. His jaw is set and he climbs the last steps at a brisk pace and deliberately strides toward the tables where the money changers sit – those people who assist foreigners by trading them local money for their foreign currency…at a price of course. The foreigners will then use the local money for buying sacrificial animals to be used in their worship. Oh, and those animals to be used in the sacrifice? They are arrayed in cages behind the merchants tables right over there, right before the entrance to the inner courtyard and the holy of holies.
Jesus approaches the tables, and without a word, begins to turn the tables over. Money and people flying in every direction. Then, he heads to the animals, cages are airborne, and animals and birds are yelping and screeching.
Stepping back, breathing heavily, Jesus bellows: “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers!”
We stand, mouths agape, looking from side to side. Talk about turning the tables! Those who would desecrate the temple with secular money making had their tables turned. The mood quickly changes from one of celebration to one of surprise and shock!
But, Jesus strides on, and takes a seat in the inner courtyard. One by one, meekly at first, then with more confidence and in bigger numbers, those who seek the healing touch of Jesus come to him. Those who are blind have their sight restored. Those who come on crutches, fling them aside and stride away. Those who are weak with disease, leave with renewed vigor, ready to return to healthy living. The celebratory mood returns, and shouts of Hosanna can be heard reverberating throughout the temple complex.
Aaaah…back to the celebration. I like this a lot better.
Hold on. Don’t get too comfortable. Look who’s coming.
It’s the chief priests in all their religious finery. And the scribes, the law keepers of the temple. They don’t look happy.
I thought I saw them before. They were off to the side, talking among each other taking it all in. They saw Jesus come up on the donkey, and that would not have been lost on them. They are Jewish scholars after all. Isaiah said that’s how the Messiah would enter the city! They should be happy! They should be shouting with glee…the messiah has come!
Nope. They sure don’t look happy. They look downright angry to tell the truth. They are making their way toward Jesus. The people waiting for his healing touch are starting to cower out of the way. Jesus motions to them to not be afraid, come close, he seems to be saying, I’ll take care of you.
The person who is the head of this group of scribes and priests begins to speak. You can tell he’s the head of the group because he struts like a rooster, showing all his colors and his authority.
Listen. He’s speaking.
“How dare you! You’ve got these people thinking that you’re the messiah! Do you hear what these children are chanting…hosanna, indeed. Son of David!?! That’s blasphemy!” he sputters. He seems to want to go on, but the words are not coming and his anger has gotten the best of him. He turns any redder and Jesus may have to heal him.
Jesus sits, seemingly bored and unimpressed with anything these men have to say. He strokes the hair of a sick child that has been laid in his lap.
“Yes,” he calmly replies, “I hear them. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, “from the mouths of children and babies I will furnish a place of praise.”
The temple leaders are flabbergasted, furious and completely unsure what to do.
Jesus kisses the head of the sleeping, healed child, looks over toward us, smiles slyly and winks.
We sit back, wondering what it is we have seen. We have been with Jesus for some time now, but this about takes the cake! Is he taunting these men on purpose? How could we go from such a time of praise and celebration to this time of tension and fear? Why is he rubbing their nose in it? Isn’t there a better way to handle this?
As we sit, stunned, Jesus finishes his ministrations and comes over to us.
“Ready to go?” he asks. “How about we go back to Bethany?”
As I stand here today, I cannot honestly tell you what my reaction would have been to witnessing such a topsy turvy day. Oh, the tables were turned alright, and not just the tables in the temple marketplace. Jesus has moved from being a reluctant messiah who repeatedly instructed his disciples not to talk about his being the messiah to a rabble rousing center of attention. Why?
Because it advances the cause of God. Because it makes people take notice. Because it was simply what needed to be done. The world awaited a messiah, and however misguided their understanding of the coming messiah was, this was the time to set the record straight. This was the time to get on with the business of showing the world just who he was, whether they liked it or not.
When we look at the actions of Jesus in this passage, everything is done with a deliberate purpose. He sent the two disciples to get the donkey and its foal because he knew that the people would understand what that meant. He overturned the tables in the marketplace to signal that God’s realm was not one of this world and God’s purposes would not be sullied by the purposes of the secular world. He gathered the sick and weak on the steps of the temple courtyard because it was important to connect this holy place of worship with the grace and power of God’s love and redemption. He deliberately confronted and provoked the temple leadership because they needed to be put on notice that their will was not important. He did all these things because he knew what was coming.
We who stand on the other side of the cross, on the other side of Easter, know what is coming, too. Are we ready?
Are we ready to take the example of Jesus and do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, all because of what God has done for us?
Are we ready to look to this week of horror and brutality and pledge that we will work so that no one might suffer like that ever again?
Are we ready to live out this last week of Lent and strive towards living out our call as celebrating, Palm Sunday people?
Are we ready to trust in God enough to cry out when it would be more comfortable to be silent?
The hard work is still in front of us.
Are we ready?
Let us pray: Strengthen us, Lord. Empower us, Lord. Embolden us, Lord. Forgive us, Lord. It is in the name of our resurrected savior that we ask it all. Amen.
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