For most of his public life, it seems that Jesus tried to hide his true identity. While others acclaimed him as the Messiah or the Son of God, he referred to himself as the Son of Man; we heard him use that title to describe himself twice in today’s gospel. When others tried to worship him or spread the news of his miracles, he told them to keep silent. He didn’t want their praise or publicity. Not yet. His time had not yet come and they did not understand his true mission.
But it’s time now. As he makes his way to Jerusalem, the time is at hand for him to reveal his full identity and his true mission. And so, to fulfill the prophecy from Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey,” Jesus makes a grand entrance, on a donkey, joining the thousands of fellow Jews as they are about to enter Jerusalem for the Passover. Jesus knows what’s waiting for him in Jerusalem. He knows he will be betrayed, abandoned and crucified; he will die an excruciating death on the cross. But he has a mission, given to him by the Father. There’s no turning back now. So, as the prophet Isaiah announced in today’s first reading, he has set his face like flint.
At this moment, as Jesus is descending the Mount of Olives, he is announcing to all the world his true identity, the Messiah, the anointed one, like David before him. At the foot of the Mount of Olives is the Garden of Gethsemane. In less than a week, Jesus would kneel there and pray the most heart-breaking prayer of his short life, perhaps the most heart-breaking prayer in history; we heard it just a few minutes ago: “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” Jesus knows the pain and suffering, the betrayal and rejection that await him, still he remains steadfast. He knows it is the mission his Father has given him: to redeem a fallen world.
But, as he enters Jerusalem, it is a different story altogether, as we heard in the gospel passage at the very beginning of this Mass. The crowd is getting excited. Familiar with the prophecy, they’re throwing their cloaks on the ground – giving Jesus the red carpet treatment. They’re waving palm branches. They’re shouting the praises of the man whom many of them believe will redeem Israel. The crowd begins singing and shouting and joyfully praising God in loud voices, Luke tells us, for all the miracles they had seen. “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” they cry. “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
But, of course, not everyone is happy. Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” Obviously the Pharisees are offended and upset by this little celebration. “I tell you,” Jesus replies, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
That’s quite a vivid image, isn’t it – stones crying out. Of course, you have to know what he means by this. As he is riding the donkey down from Bethany to the Mount of Olives just outside of Jerusalem, he is passing through a huge cemetery, filled with ancient gravestones. It was already a very old cemetery in Jesus’ time and it’s still there today. I’ve walked down that same road several times myself and have reflected on this verse whenever I’ve done so. It was in this cemetery that so many of the Jewish ancestors were buried as they awaited the coming of their Messiah. From their side of death, they knew who Jesus was. They recognized him as their savior.
If the stones in that cemetery had cried out, what do you think would have been their message on that first Palm Sunday? Let’s use our imagination for a few moments. What would be the message of those stones if they had cried out?
Maybe the first thing they would have cried out is “Take notice, Jerusalem: your King is here.” The people of Jerusalem were longing for a king, praying for a king, a descendant of their greatest king, the great warrior King David. They called this king they were awaiting, “Messiah,” the anointed one, just as King David had been anointed by the great prophet Samuel. It was this descendant of David whom the ancient Israelites believed would lead them to victory over their enemies, the oppressive Romans. Imagine their thoughts: “This is it! This man, Jesus, is finally going to announce that he is the King – the Messiah. He’s going to set up his kingdom and defeat the Romans and restore the glory of Israel.”
Well, of course, Jesus is the Messiah, but not the kind of Messiah they were expecting. For one thing, he didn’t say anything about overthrowing the oppressive Roman army. Neither did he speak about re-establishing the house of David in all its glory. “My kingdom is not of this world . . .” is what he actually said, but no one was listening.
But still, that is the first thing the stones might have cried out on that first Palm Sunday, “Take notice, Jerusalem, your King is here!”
And there is a second thing that the stones might have cried out on that first Palm Sunday and that’s this: Your Savior has arrived. Here’s the good news for the day: Jesus didn’t come into our world to rule over us, but to redeem us. He is our King, but more importantly, he is our Savior. “I have come so that you might have life, and have it to the full” he declares.
Then, I suspect, those stones would give one more cry. They would surely say about Jesus, “Give him your heart.” You see, it is not enough for us to acknowledge that Jesus is our King or that because of his sacrificial love, our sins have been forgiven. There must come a time when we allow him to be the Lord of our lives, when we begin to live as the kind of men and women that God created us to be.
One of my favorite authors, C.S. Lewis, once wrote: “I think that many of us, when Christ has enabled us to overcome one or two sins that were an obvious nuisance, are inclined to feel (though we do not put it into words) that we are now good enough. He has done all we wanted him to do, and we would be very happy if he would now leave us alone. But the question is not what we intended ourselves to be, but what he intended us to be when he made us.” C.S. Lewis goes on to write, “Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on. You knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little home, but he is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it himself.” That is the purpose in giving him our hearts, that we might be a new creation in him; that’s what the Resurrection is all about.
Listen to the stones – those stones from that ancient cemetery that lined the path that Jesus trod that first Palm Sunday. Listen as they declare, “Here is your King, here is your Savior; give him your heart today.” As we begin, once again, this most Holy of all weeks, let us accompany our Lord, dying to ourselves so that we may live more fully the Resurrection, the new life God promises us through his risen Son!