Episode Transcript
[00:00:00] Speaker A: Please pray with me.
Guide us, O God, by your word and Holy Spirit, that in your light we may see light, and in your truth find freedom, and in your will discover peace through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Today's reading is from Luke 19, verses 28 to 40.
Jesus Triumphant entry into Jerusalem. After he said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he had come near Beth Page 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, 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 reads 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.
Now, as he was approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had been 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 stall. He answered, I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out, this is the word of the Lord.
[00:01:51] Speaker B: There's a character who plays a prominent role in all four of the Gospels. And we see this figure make an appearance in the passage that Maya just read. This character goes by the name of Ochlos in Greek. And we met this figure back in Luke chapter 5. When Jesus had just begun his public meeting ministry. This character was standing there at the lake of Gennesaret. Ochlos was there pressing in on Jesus to hear the word of God. And later, when Jesus came down from the mountain to deliver what according to Luke's Gospel, was a sermon on the plain, a sermon on a level space. Okhlos was there to listen. When Jesus traveled to a town called Nain, not only did the disciples follow him, but Oklos did as well. And one time, when Jesus mother and brothers were trying to get to him in a house, they weren't able to because Oklos was in the way. One day, as night was approaching, Okhlos was hungry. And so the disciples said To Jesus, send okhlos to the surrounding villages to get something to eat and find lodging. And Jesus said, no, you give okhlos something to eat.
Okhlos is often translated in English as crowd or even multitude. And there's nothing quite, quite like being a part of an ohlos playing this character in a story where you're part of a big mass of people. There's nothing quite like being out on Colorado Boulevard for the Rose parade and being one line of humanity that's there celebrating as the different groups come by to watch the float and to cheer as they do so. There's nothing like being at the Rose bowl and cheering on your favorite team, cheering with them, and feeling as one with all of them.
At least twice, I've gathered not with tens of thousands, but more than 100,000 in one space. And I will never forget those occasions. One was back in the 1980s in what was then West Berlin, Germany. I had gathered on this huge field, this huge space to watch a fireworks display. And when I would jump up into the air, I could see an ocean of humanity in every direction. It was amazing being gathered there. People of all kinds of different languages and people groups all joined together to witness a great Spectacle. More than 100,000 were there something powerful to be part of an okhlos.
Another time I recall gathering, not with thousands or tens of thousands, but well over a hundred thousand thousand was at a gathering in Washington, D.C. back in 2003 to protest a planned U.S. invasion of Iraq. I had driven all the way from Connecticut alone, yearning to be a part of a mass of humanity that might raise our voice collectively to vote with our feet and hopefully stop the anticipated invasion. And again, I recall being able to jump in the air and see from for as far as my eye would carry, an ocean of humanity. And I recall feeling a deep sense of solidarity that is different as each of us were at that gathered. People of different languages, people of different faiths, all together united not by a spectacle of fireworks, but by a common voice saying no to an anticipated invasion. I felt like an actor on the global stage with that okhlos, an okhlos that might have the power to change history.
Well, maybe you're aware of the history, as the history books will show, that okhlos did not quite change the history and the United States did invade Iraq. Jill and I would both have cousins who served tours of duty in that war. By most estimates, not tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands died in that conflict. As powerful an experience as it was to be part of that oklos in Washington D.C. i recognized it was not quite the game changing force I thought it might be.
Still, there is something quite appealing about an okhlos, isn't there? It can make you feel, well, not so alone in the world, but part of something bigger than yourself.
In all four of the Gospels, the character of Ohlos is featured prominently. And all four of the gospels make it clear that Jesus drew a crowd. When you'd see Jesus teaching or performing miracles so often, ohlos was there, a crowd had gathered. And a crowd can say to the world something powerful. It can say, hey, here is something worth gathering around. Here is something worth going to. And crowds can grow as a result.
Just a couple of days ago, I was met by an oklos. And like Jesus, mother and brothers, for a time, it kept me from going where I wanted to go. I was heading over earlier this week to work out at Planet Fitness early in the morning, and blocking my way was an enormous okhlos gathered in front of Trader Joe's. A long line of people.
And I was confused by this. And so I asked a person standing in line, is the price of eggs just about to go up and are you going to try and get eggs before they're sold out? And this person in line said, no, no, no, something wonderful is there. And then she showed me on her phone a picture of a tote bag.
I'm not kidding you about this. A pastel covered tote bag was what drew this crowd of people to be there in front of Trader Joe's.
Crowds are funny things, aren't they? They can provide a great sense of community and connection, but, you know, they can form over things that, well, don't quite seem to merit a crowd like, say, a $2.99 tote bag.
Worse yet, crowds can be dangerous.
I still remember the shock back in 1979, reading in the news about a rock concert in Cincinnati featuring the who. And before that concert had begun that night, the pressure on the crowd to enter was so great that it would ultimately lead to the deaths of 11 people. I would later attend a concert by the rock band the Ramones in when I was in college and there was a scaffold in front of us that was protecting the area between those of us at the front and the stage. And the push of the crowd was so great, it broke the scaffold. And I remember thinking, at that time, I could die. I could die.
In the Gospels, the crowd, or ohlos is often depicted as a follower of Jesus. As a mass of people gathered to hear Jesus. But the crowd can also play a deadly role.
The last time we read about a crowd in Luke's Gospel is when an oklos comes along with Judas to have Jesus arrested. In Matthew's Gospel, it is even the ohlos that stirs up, is stirred up by the chief priests and elders to cry out to Pilate. Then the Roman governor, release the prisoner Barabbas and not Jesus. And Pilate, you might recall, asks him, then, what do you want me to do with Jesus? And it is the othlos, according to Matthew's Gospel, that shouts, crucify him.
In Luke's gospel, it's made clear that it's the religious leaders and the people, the chief priests, the elders and the people. Luke doesn't want to just put the blame on the ohlos, but really present those religious leaders in a prominent role. But still, there's that crowd, that multitude, those people who are shouting, crucify him.
Well, in Matthew, the crowd is a bit more prominent figure. It's the othlos crying, crucify him. And it is the ohlos, according to Matthew's gospel, that is laying cloaks before Jesus as he marches towards Jerusalem. Luke's gospel, however, is more focused on actors in the crowd, on groups within that crowd. The ochlos is more of a backdrop out of which prominent groups like the Pharisees or like the disciples emerge.
In today's passage, you might have noticed it's not the ohlos that lays cloaks before Jesus as he processes into Jerusalem, as it is in Matthew's gospel, it's the disciples. They, and they alone are the ones doing this. Now we can imagine crowds there as Jews would come from all over that region to Jerusalem for the festival of Passover, a celebration of the Hebrew people's liberation from oppression in Egypt. And the word ohlo shows up in today's passage. The word crowd shows up. But it's not until after we read of the cloaks and the shouts that we finally read of that crowd. And it's from the ohlos that some Pharisees step forward to say, teacher, order your disciples to stop.
The crowd in Luke includes some that were not only refusing to participate in this royal procession, but challenging it in this way. Luke's account in particular gives us, I think, a helpful picture of the Christian faith, of what it means to be disciples in our time. Jesus doesn't simply draw a crowd, and Jesus doesn't simply work a crowd. He calls within a crowd, a community, both in that crowd, but distinct from the crowd. It's Like Jesus marks within a crowd, faces in the crowd, the faces of those daring to declare Jesus as their ultimate authority, the center around which their very life trajectory and identity is shaped.
In Luke, the imagery of authority associated with Jesus is unmistakable. The shouts about the one who comes in the name of the Lord shouts there, paraphrasing a processional psalm from the Hebrew Scriptures have been changed. They've been changed from blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord to this blessed is the king. Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Now, you might have noticed in Luke's account, there's not a mention of branches, of palm branches, nor is there a mention of hosanna in Luke's Gospel. And some scholars believe that this is because those sorts of symbols, the palm branches or the branches, period, and the shouts of hosanna had more of a specific focus on the kingly expectations associated with the nation of Israel specifically. And Luke wants to say, yes, this kingly procession absolutely has political implication, but it's more than just a king of one nation and people.
We read in Luke how heaven is referred to twice. Peace in heaven, they shout, and glory in the highest heaven. We get those words from Jesus, only showing up in Luke where heaven is mentioned twice and peace is the word that distinguishes heaven. But then in Luke's gospel, in Luke's gospel alone, we get these words of Jesus where after the Pharisees tell him to make the disciples stop, Jesus says, if these were silent, even the stones would cry out.
It's an image of the reconciling work of God in Christ, not only touching one particular people and not only working in heaven, and not only working in our individual souls, but rather it's the work of God in Christ transforming a people. All the earth, all creation, all nations, the cosmos. It's a kind of heaven and earth, all inclusion vision of Christ's rule that both transforms nations, but speaks to all nations, calling them to Christ's way of peace.
In Roman tradition at that time, generals returning from victory would often approach the city surrounded by the leaders of his armies and followed by the conquered kings and rulers and captives destined to be enslaved. Enslaved, they would often ride on a chariot pulled by white horses, white being the color of victory. And then they go to the temple of Jupiter to offer sacrifice. And along the way, soldiers and citizenry alike would shout acclamation and sing hymns in honor of the conqueror. The conquering power.
In today's passage, the disciples are proclaiming a higher and different power. Jesus rides in not on a chariot, but a humble, he embodies and teaches peace, the peace not of conquest, but of God's way of love and justice, of healing and forgiveness. Jesus even is portrayed as God's very presence, drawn near in Christ.
Associating such authority with a Jewish rabbi and prophet of that time was surely one of the key reasons the Pharisees plead with Jesus to make the disciples stop. It might have been that they were afraid of the power it would draw away from them, but I think more likely they were afra it would bring reprisals from the Roman Empire who might say, who? What is this movement of Jesus that's drawing such a crowd and that threatens our rule?
And while the procession certainly had political implications, it had cosmic implications that not only heavens but the very stones of earth proclaim Jesus rule. Jesus is not simply a king of a people, but portrayed in Luke as God's peaceful and just and healing and restorative rule of all things in heaven and on earth. Brought near in Christ, this love would be shown. His love for the world would be shown in tears shed for Jerusalem. It would be shown in anger Jesus unleashed at the temple, those in authority at the temple. And it would be shown in the death that he suffered on a cross.
And then God's great victory over sin and death would be revealed in our Lord's resurrection. That rule, that rule over not just one nation, but all people that touches us in our baptism we celebrated so recently as JT and Addie were baptized. It touches us as we are united with Christ by faith. And while it makes us one with him, makes us one with other disciples, it can also make us, well, not one of the crowd, but standing out from the crowd.
You might notice in Luke, it's not the crowd as a whole that affirms Jesus rules over all things. Its disciples in the crowd, faces in the crowd that form a community. You and I might call today the Church.
Now, I don't know about you, but I love me a good crowd. I love the energy, the electricity, the connections it can generate. I love when we get packed into a sanctuary and you can have that sense of oneness with others.
But it's not a crowd in Luke that honors Jesus as king. King. The ones who recognize this, one who comes not as a conqueror but as a peacemaker. The ones who follow this path, marked by humility and service and love and tears and sacrifice, is not the mass of humanity. It's a small group within the crowd, other members of the crowd. They'll tell these Disciples shut up being faces within a crowd, a group in the crowd, but standing out from the crowd that so often what following Jesus looks like in scripture.
And so we shouldn't be surprised if we don't see a mass of humanity gathered on Hill and Del Mar today, where churches all around Pasadena and all around the world celebrating on this Palm Sunday that Jesus is king. We shouldn't be surprised that a number of people might have slept in or hold a value system very different from us. That shouldn't surprise us. For Jesus spoke of the life of faith as something akin to finding hidden treasure in a field, or something of great wealth that other people might not recognize as such, or a narrow gate that is hard but leads to life.
The celebrated pastor and author Eugene Peterson famously warned Christians and pastors especially not to get too enamored with crowds.
He noted that just as we can use drugs for a false sense of transcendence, so we can seek the same in crowds.
Whether the crowd is in person or online, whether it's represented by a particular political leader or party, whether it's a prominent figure from the world of entertainment or a sports team or even a tote bag, it's easy to lose ourselves in the crowd and forget who we are and who made us who we are.
Jesus has made us not just one of the crowd and not just a crowd, but a people within the crowd.
It doesn't mean we don't join crowds. We can and do. We can do so in common cause with others, but we do so as those who are in the crowd but stand out from the crowd, have a certain critical distance from the crowd. For we are called and claimed by Christ, and it's his rule that leads us forward.
In the fall of 2023, I watched online as my daughter attended the opening ceremonies as a freshman at college. She, as many of you know, is attending Princeton, and this was a move from her from California all the way out to the Northeast. I watched this online, and as I did, I recalled my own freshman orientation time. And especially I remembered not only arriving at the college I attended in Massachusetts, but in Chapin hall, sitting with some 500 others, which seemed like a large number. I know it's nothing compared to University of Michigan or some other schools where it might be thousands. In that opening class, it was 500. But still, I felt like, wow, I'm a part of this wild new thing. I didn't know anyone there except one person from my graduating high school class. Otherwise, they were all new to me. And I remember feeling on the one hand connected to these others, but also wondered to myself over the four years to come, what will make me, well, me. Who will be my people, which is intricately connected to who we are. Will it be going to football games and rallying for my team? Probably not, because our team might have won a lot, but it was a relatively small school, so it was nothing like attending a University of Michigan game at the Rose Bowl. But still, there was that sense of being one with others, having a common team. And it certainly wouldn't be alumni gatherings, because no one had ever heard of my college out in California, a little school called Williams. I know a bunch of you haven't heard about it, that's okay.
But what I would find in terms of my own identity was smaller groups within that big mass of people. On one hand, it would be sports teams and a singing group I was a part part of, but even those wouldn't really mark me as who I was. That freshman year, I remember the discovery of being with others, a small group of others who actually did this crazy thing Sunday morning. It's called Go to Church.
Some of you here I know are from Caltech or pcc. And you know what it's like to have a bunch of your dorm mates and have act the whole campus be quiet while you are heading out to church. Well, I did that through sleep and sleep.
And I remember gathering with others at the InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and for a small group Bible study and feeling the sense of connection and identity so much that when I went home that summer to California, I got baptized in what was then the Children's Pool of La Jolla. But then back my sophomore year, I remember often wishing that there was more of a sense of connection with this whole group, feeling that sense of being kind of set apart or different from or distinct from this Mass that was my particular college and school. And I wondered at times if I should head somewhere else. It was hard enough being in Massachusetts, period. It can get really cold.
But I'm grateful for that experience and grateful I stayed, not only because I met my wife Jill, there, which was awesome.
But I'm grateful that I got that picture of what it's like to be a follower of Jesus, what it might have been like according to Luke, in that procession long ago, as people march towards Jerusalem, Jesus on a colt, that it's not just being in the crowd, but being a part of a group within the crowd and in so doing, standing out in many ways from the crowd.
So, friends, I encourage you this Palm Sunday. Let's rediscover our strangeness. Let's rediscover the weirdness of being Christian. Disciples that seem set apartness, that distinctness, that fact that our ultimate authority does not lie in any political ruler or religious ruler or nation, or any chief priest or Roman governor. But was in fact that chief, that rabbi and prophet and teacher. Some strange people like you and me continue to call Lord and Savior. This Palm Sunday, let's celebrate our set apartness, our strangeness, the way we are, not of the crowd, but made faces in the crowd by Christ. The faces of disciples of this king. Let's embrace our weirdness, Singing as we do of Christ as king, Standing out from the crowd. And as we do so, may we be salt and light. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.
