You know, this just about sums up why you never really made it. Honestly, riding into town on a jackass! Your antagonists must have gone nuts with snide comments seeing this. Don Quixote got his inspiration from you, right? Jesus, delusional doesn’t even hint at what you were thinking. Let your crowds get silly over you. They’ll learn soon enough where you’re headed. Don’t expect them to cheer for you then. They’ll turn faster than a dizzy skater in a spin.

Resigned Acceptance

He’d been on a decided path for a few weeks. “Steadfastly set his face,”  is how the ancient reports express his unwavering resolution to reach Jerusalem. Some of his best teachings were delivered on that road: The Good Samaritan, Lost Sheep and Prodigal Sons.  People were healed in body and soul. Along the way people fell in step anticipating they would be part of this Messiah’s movement.

That day, he led his disciples in the familiar manner of rabbi and his followers, walking ahead as they followed, stepping in his very footprints. Anticipation was simmering.

Not far from Jerusalem Jesus gives instructions. As if he had foreknowledge or had made previous arrangements, Jesus sends two of The Twelve to secure an unbroken colt from a village. If questioned, the reply is to be, “The Lord needs it.” All happened without challenge.

His mood shifted. Whereas before Jesus actively pushed through crowds making his own way, now a quiescent, nearly submissive aura fell over him. Three years ago, his resistance had been strong. “My time has not yet come,” he’d protested.  Today he would accede and move into what was before him. Turning back was no option. God’s will would be done.

Stage of Irony

The Twelve are ready for what’s just ahead. The colt is saddled with their coats on which he will ride. The crowd takes their cue and carpet the road with their own clothing. From the top of the Mount of Olives, riding toward the city, people sing and shout praise for all the miracles they’d seen.

Convinced by Jesus’ deeds, people whose lives were changed beyond what any could have hoped, they call him King. Peace was the promise they now nearly tasted as they cried out.

You’re right though to ridicule it, this parody, a caricature of royal processions for which Romans were notorious. Yet, this triumphal entry displayed a jittery donkey, not a battle-strong stallion. Their hero had never called up an army or plotted overthrow of the regime. While the people thought they’d only be saved by military rebellion and nationalism, Jesus had called to turn the other cheek  and love one’s enemy. Instead, he was being promoted as everything he was not.

Destiny

No matter. No use redirecting expectation and ambition with what time was left. They’d not get it. Only by witnessing a power often misunderstood might they realize his purpose. Let them have their parade, misdirected as it was.

However, the celebration was worrisome to that other oppressive force of the people, the religious one. Pharisees shouted for him to quiet the crowd. Fear of Roman retaliation was well founded, but Jesus wouldn’t be the only recipient of its force. Underlying was fear of being displaced in their own positions. Shaking ground would only sink them all. Never mind that Roman guards don’t show up.

Jesus sees beyond them. His time indeed had come, and all time would center, even be measured by his life. Should mortals be short sighted, the design of God would not. People might not see him for what he was, yet maybe in their proclamation they still spoke truths. King of their hearts, Prince of Peace in their souls, Jesus’ reign reached into heaven.

Granted, this procession was a shame. Yet, destiny called. Creation itself recognized who he was in eternity. The world must answer in some way.

“I guarantee you,” Jesus declared, “If these people were quiet, the stones on the side of the road would be shouting!”



Luke 19:28-40