Day by Day with Jesus Series
Cheers, Jeers, and Tears
Luke 19:29-44
Dr. Roger W. Thomas, Preaching Minister
First Christian Church, Vandalia, MO
Everybody loves a parade. Most parades are celebrations. Big celebrations call for big parades. Some of you will remember the big parade welcoming the troops home from WWII. I remember the big parade down Michigan Avenue in Chicago when the Bears won the Super Bowl, the Bulls won the NBA championship, and last year when the White Sox won the World Series. I am looking forward to the really big one when the Cubs win it all. That’s a parade worth waiting for.
None of us is old enough to remember the first big modern parade. On October 29, 1927, New York City welcomed Charles Lindbergh home after his solo flight across the Atlantic. 750,000 lbs. of ticker tape covered the streets. But the Lindberg parade was dwarfed by the giant celebration on March 1, 1962. Three thousand four-hundred seventy four tons of confetti rained down on a seven mile stretch of New York City. It was all to welcome John Glenn, the first American astronaut to orbit the earth.
Who of us will forget the parade down Main Street two years ago? Chilly weather couldn’t cool the enthusiasm of a small town welcoming its state championship basketball team back home. Things like that don’t happen in Vandalia very often. It deserved a parade.
I’ll never forget President Kennedy’s funeral procession down Pennsylvania Avenue. The horse drawn caisson followed by a rider less horse left a lasting impression. Everyone was moved by the young widow and two small children following close behind. No one called it a parade. But it was! Jesus’ last week began with a parade. We call it the Triumphal Entry. Palm Sunday marks the event. But this too was a parade of a different sort. Back to that in a moment.
For the next eight weeks, I am going to walk you through the daily journal of Jesus’ last week. The Bible recognizes the importance of these events. Matthew devotes eight of his twenty-eight chapters to the last week of Jesus’ thirty-three year life. Mark, six of sixteen chapters; Luke, six of twenty-four. John uses almost half of his gospel to tell the story of Passion Week.
As we trace the events of Jesus’ last week, I hope you become more and more convinced that these events matter to you. They changed history. They can also change your life. These events are about more than what happened then. They are also about you and me. Peter sums it up when he writes, “For Christ died for sins once and for, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Pt 3:18). YOU! This is Jesus’ story. But it is also yours!
On the surface, it certainly looked like a welcoming party for a victorious hero. But not everyone was happy. That first day of Jesus’ last week was a day of mixed emotions. There were cheers and jeers and tears. We won’t understand what happened unless we see all three.
[Two minute clip from the Jesus Movie, Scenes 42-43]
First, the Cheers. Jerusalem was already crowded for the Passover Feast. A hundred thousand people or better were in the city. That was six times the normal population. Passover was the biggest event of the Jewish faith. It marked the deliverance of the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt and their march to the Promised Land. But this Passover was different. Jesus was in town. For three years, Jesus had traveled across Israel teaching and performing amazing miracles. He had been in Jerusalem before. This time it was different. He knew it. He had been telling his disciples that something big was about to happen. The word had spread. Expectations were at a fever pitch.
Jesus has two of his men borrow an unbroken young donkey for him to ride into the city. That in itself was strange enough. The procession began as Jesus and his group crested a hill called the Mount of Olives just east of the city. The hilltop stood two hundred feet above the temple compound of the capital city. A road snaked its way down the hill through the olive groves and headed directly into the Eastern Gate of the City.
Crowds gathered along the route. They began to lay coats and palm branches across the path, rolling out their version of the proverbial red carpet. Cheers rang out. “Hosanna,” they cried. The words meant “Jehovah Saves.” That cry and the song that could be heard “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord” came from Psalm 118. Others shouted out “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.” How fitting that words almost identical to the angel’s song at Jesus’ birth should also herald the beginning of his last week.
Why the cheers? I suppose there were lots of reasons. Some were likely just curious. You know how a crowd can build. People hear the noise and come to find out what’s happening. Before they know it, they are joining in, but they haven’t a clue what’s going on. That can happen at church. Some people come because they hear it’s the best show in town. They sing. They cheer. But they don’t have clue.
Others cheered because word of his miracles had spread. This wouldn’t have been the first time that crowds had followed Jesus just to see what he would do next. That had happened in Galilee a couple of years earlier when Jesus had miraculously fed the five thousand. But this Passover word of something even bigger had spread like wildfire through the city. John’s gospel links these events with the raising of Lazarus from the dead a week earlier. Some cheered because they wanted to see him do it again. Maybe, like had happened before, some in the crowd had come in hopes they could be the object of his next miracle. Perhaps, the cheers were like kids waving their hands and shouting “Teacher, choose me! Me! Me!”
The heart of the crowd was probably those who had already been touched by Jesus. The Gospels don’t tell us, but I can’t help but believe that Lazarus was on the front row. Zaccheus wasn’t probably far behind. Mary Magdalene who experienced Jesus’ forgiveness, Bartimaeus the formerly blind man from Jericho, the lame man from the pool of Bethsaida, and who knows how many others were cheering their hero. Outcasts, tax collectors, and even some lepers welcomed their friend. Jesus had touched many lives. At least a few of them were probably in that crowd lining the road to Jerusalem. That’s why many of you are here today. You know what Jesus has done for you. You want everyone to know how grateful you are. For you worship is all about cheering for Jesus.
If historians are correct, a big part of the crowd may have thought they were inaugurating a new king. Most Jews looked forward to the day when God was going to send his heavenly army to liberate Jerusalem from the Romans. The messiah would lead the way, riding on a great white stallion with his sword flashing in the sun. If that’s what they expected, were they ever in for a surprise. That’s probably the point of the young donkey. It was just the opposite of a war horse. If this was the messiah, he sure wasn’t living up to expectations.
We can make that same mistake. People often create an image of God as they think he should be. Imaginary gods always take our side. They condemn other people’s sins, never ours. They are supposed to solve our problems and meet our needs. Maybe it’s that side of human nature that explains how quickly Palm Sunday becomes Good Friday.
But we don’t have to wait for Friday to see the cheers turn to jeers. If you listen close, you can hear the jeers in the Sunday crowd. Some in the crowd challenge Jesus to quiet the parade. The problem wasn’t the noise. It was what the crowd was saying, not how they were saying it. Jealousy and fear drive the opposition to Jesus. They worried that the rumors of a conquering Messiah might spark a reaction from the Romans. The high priest would argue later in the week, “Better for one man to die than our whole country be punished.”
Often we don’t understand why anyone would find fault with Jesus. How could anyone not appreciate his message of love your neighbor and be nice to your enemies? Surely everyone wants peace on earth and goodwill to men. Those of us who are followers of that “meek and mild” Jesus are easily confused by anti-Christian voices in our world. Maybe the truth is—some of the jeers come from folk who are paying more attention than we are. Maybe they know there is more to Jesus than the tiny babe in the manger. They see through the superficial message of kindness and universal tolerance. Maybe they understand the implications of “take up your cross and deny yourself.” Perhaps, they believe Jesus meant it when he said, “No man comes to the father but by me.” They realize Jesus never left room for any mushy middle ground where all religions are the same and any and all behavior is to be tolerated and never ever come under condemnation. Jesus may be many things, but “just nice” is not one of them. Maybe some jeered on Sunday because they weren’t surprised on Monday when anything but a “meek and mild” Jesus marched into the temple with fire in his eyes. That’s next week’s story.
Our text records one other revealing moment on this first day of Jesus’ last week. We will never understand Passion Week until we see the tears. Suddenly the parade grinds to a halt. Those in the rear probably wondered what was happening. It was like a traffic jam in the middle of I-70. Everyone stops for no obvious reason. Only later do we see the accident or the construction site. In this case, part way down the parade route Jesus stops. Maybe he rounded a turn coming down the winding path. Perhaps he came to a clearing in the olive groves. He just stops and looks at the big city spread out before him. Even today, the view of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives is a breath taking sight.
Jesus looks down at the crowded streets, the busy market places, and the rows and rows of houses. He could see the magnificent temple in all its glory. Maybe with nostalgia he thinks back over the centuries of history that has taken place on this same patch of real estate. David, Solomon, Isaiah, Nehemiah, Ezra—all the great heroes of the nation had stood on this same hillside and looked down at this same great city.
But there’s more to the tears than nostalgia. Jesus knew what had happened before. He also knew what was coming. This parade was no accident. Jesus knew what he would face by week’s end. He had told his disciples that he had come to die. He would be betrayed by a friend, tormented by his foes, and eventually crucified for the sins of the world. They refused to believe him. They argued with him. The tears were partly over their unbelief.
But the tears flow because he knows what will happen even later. He sees the end from the beginning. He knows the consequences of the rejection he will face that week. He knows the judgment and destruction that will come to this city that has rejected the offer of God’s grace. He wanted it to turn out differently. If he were the kind of savior who forces people to follow him, who makes decisions for them, it would be different. But that’s not the way it works. A couple of days later, he says, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing” (Mt 23:37).
I wonder if we saw what Jesus sees if we might not shed more tears for a world speeding down a one-way street toward self-destruction and divine judgment. I wonder if we believed more in Jesus and less in ourselves if we might not shed tears over the indifference and unbelief of our city. We might have more passion for Christ if we understood Christ’s passion better!
This is the beginning of the end, the first day of Jesus’ last week. It began with a parade like no other. It is the scene of cheers and jeers and tears. What would you be doing if you were there?
***Dr. Roger W. Thomas is the preaching minister at First Christian Church, 205 W. Park St., Vandalia, MO 63382 and an adjunct professor of Bible and Preaching at Central Christian College of the Bible, 911 E. Urbandale, Moberly, MO. He is a graduate of Lincoln Christian College (BA) and Lincoln Christian Seminary (MA, MDiv), and Northern Baptist Theological Seminary (DMin).
