Battle Cry

John 12:12-19

February 26, 2023 • Mount Pleasant UMC

There are certain symbols for certain times of the year. Let’s suppose, for a moment, that you fell into a deep sleep and when you woke up, you saw stockings hanging on the mantle and presents under a tree. You’d know it was what time of year? Right, exactly, Christmas. Or if you woke up and. you saw chocolate eggs and fluffy bunnies filling the stores, you’d know it was…Easter, correct. And if you saw men rushing out of stores with boxes of candy and a bouquet of flowers in their hands, you’d know it was…right, about 5 minutes before their Valentine’s date. Certain symbols tell us what time of year it is, but what if you woke up and you saw all of those things all at once? Either you’re in the clearance aisle at Walmart or maybe, just maybe, it’s possible that someone is trying to say something new, trying to make a point. In a sense, that’s a bit of what happened on the first Palm Sunday as Jesus rode into Jerusalem (cf. Wright, John for Everyone—Part Two, pgs. 24-25).

Welcome to Lent, a season of the church year during which we set aside forty days (not including Sundays) to prepare for the cross and the celebration of Easter. In some ways, you could say we’re between the symbols of the Christmas tree and the Easter lily, a time of the year where ashes is actually the best symbol. That’s why we began Lent on Wednesday evening with ashes on the forehead. Ashes are a symbol of destruction, death, and during this season the goal is dying to ourselves and becoming more like Jesus. To that end, we are walking slowly through that final week Jesus spent on Earth (we’ll catch up with the actual timeline on Maundy Thursday), and we’re looking at it in the context of Jesus’ prayer over the city of Jerusalem at the beginning of that week: “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace…” (Luke 19:42). Jesus, the only who pronounced the peacemakers “blessed” (cf. Matthew 5:9), prayed peace over the city. He prayed shalom, which means more than an absence of conflict. Shalom is about wholeness, life lived the way God intended, and all throughout the week we call holy, Jesus is contending for peace. He’s wanting the people to “get it.” So we’ve called this series, “Fight Like Jesus,” because during Holy Week, Jesus is waging peace. And in this moment on Palm Sunday, the contrast between the people and Jesus is very evident because the symbols themselves are telling different stories.

It’s Passover time in Jerusalem, the time when a city whose usual population at this time in history was around 250,000 would swell to over a million people (cf. Card, John: The Gospel of Wisdom, pg. 143). Passover was a celebration of the Hebrews’ rescue from slavery in Egypt centuries before, and it always stirred up hopes of freedom. In Jesus’ time, this meant freedom from Rome. In fact, several years earlier, around the time Jesus was born, there had been an incident where a group of Jews had killed some Roman soldiers. The Roman ruler, in response, had sent his army in to kill the rebels. Three thousand Jews died in that “incident” and Passover was cancelled. Ever since then, it was a priority for the Roman governor to be present in Jerusalem for Passover to keep the peace, so Pontius Pilate left his lavish home in Caesarea Maritime, took his army and headed east to Jerusalem. Here’s one way it has been described: “Cavalry on horses, foot soldiers, leather armor, helmets, weapons, banners, golden eagles mounted on poles, sun glinting on metal and gold.” Rome’s power on display, entering the city in such a way as to say, “There will be no rebellion, no dissent this year. If there is, we will meet it with force” (cf. Porterfield, Fight Like Jesus, pgs. 28-29).

On the other side of the city there is what is probably a smaller crowd, certainly a less-armed crowd, coming down the side of the Mount of Olives, heading toward the Sheep Gate. There are people who have come with Jesus from Bethany, and there are likely others who have come out from the city to greet Jesus, people who have heard this “celebrity” was coming to Passover and want to get in on whatever he’s about to do (cf. Barclay, The Gospel of John—Volume 2, pg. 116)—the hangers-on, the gawkers. And here is where the conflicting symbols show up. Passover’s main symbol, you see, is the lamb. In fact, it’s all about the lamb that Moses had told them, way back in Exodus, to sacrifice for their household (cf. Exodus 12:3). Generally, the sheep were raised in Bethlehem and brought to the Temple for sacrifice. They would enter through the Sheep Gate on the northeast side of the city. That’s where it got its name: Sheep Gate. So get this: Jesus enters the city on the day when families would come to select their lamb. He, who was born in Bethlehem, enters through the Sheep Gate. And he is the one who John the Baptist called “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Jesus knows what he’s doing and by doing this, he becomes the ultimate symbol of Passover (cf. Porterfield 37). He is the lamb.

And then there are other symbols, things meant for other times of the year, other celebrations. One of them is the thing that gives the name to this day: the palm branches. John says when word got out that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, “they took palm branches and went out to meet him…” (12:13). Palm branches were not part of Passover; these had been used most recently for Hanukkah, a winter holiday that celebrates the rededication of the Temple and the brief period of Israel’s freedom before the Romans came in. The hero of that story was Judas Maccabee and palm branches were waved when he entered Jerusalem as the new king (Wright 25). Palms had become a symbol of Israel’s quest for independence (Porterfield 33), so when the people grab palm branches to wave now, at the wrong time of year, they are proclaiming Jesus as the new king. They are saying by their actions they believe he is coming to kick out the Romans and take over. They even use the battle cry, “Hosanna!” “Hosan” is a Hebrew word that means, “help us, save us, liberate us, deliver us.” When you put the “na” at the end, it adds a sense of urgency: “Save us now! Help us now!” It’s a cry for help, and there is evidence of it also being used in the presence of kings. In other words, it’s a word you might use when you want the king to do something on your behalf. When shouted in public, it becomes a  demand that the king do something immediately for his people. They even call Jesus “the king of Israel” (12:13). That’s not in the original psalm they are singing; they added that. So, “hosanna” coupled with the waving of palm branches is not the stuff of religious pep rallies like we usually picture it. This is a battle cry. This is the stuff of political rebellion (cf. Porterfield 31-32; Whitacre, John [IVPNTC], pg. 304).

There’s another symbol here, one that John seems to indicate Jesus chooses in response to the people’s chants. John says, “Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it” (12:14). He does this because of a prophecy given by the Old Testament prophet Zechariah, and when he does this he both affirms and denies the people’s hopes. Zechariah had said the king would come on a donkey’s colt (12:15; Zechariah 9:9). But everyone knows now and knew then that a donkey is not the symbol of power. If he wanted to show his power, he should have taken his cue from Pilate. Over on the other side of the city, Pilate undoubtedly rode a warhorse, strong and determined, decorated with all the symbols of Rome’s might. Jesus should have had a horse to ride in; that would have gone along with all the cries for help and acclimations of kingship (cf. Porterfield 29; Whitacre 304). Even the rabbis of the time knew that. They taught that when the Messiah came, when their Savior arrived, if Israel was ready to receive him, he would come on a white horse. But if Israel was not ready, he would come on a donkey (Card, The Parable of Joy, pg. 153). Jesus, John says, intentionally chose a donkey, but just as an aside, do you remember what John says later, when he describes the way Jesus will return? John writes, “I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a—“ you guessed it “—white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True…On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords” (Revelation 19:11; Card Parable 154). On that day, Jesus will come as a conquering king; on this day, he comes as humble and peaceable king (cf. Porterfield 35). And the people completely missed it.

So we’ve got Pilate and his entourage coming from one direction, and Jesus and his makeshift gathering from another. It’s all converging in Jerusalem. And while Pilate is all about enforcing a peaceful celebration of the Passover, Jesus is calling for peace in a much larger sense. What does Jesus intend us to see in this story? The first thing I think we should notice about Jesus is that he moves toward the conflict, not away from it. It would have been easy for Jesus to stay away from Passover celebration, knowing the general attitude of the Jerusalem religious leaders toward him. He could have done what he did once before with the Feast of Tabernacles: come in the proverbial “back door” (cf. John 7:1-10). But instead of running away from the conflict that is coming or avoiding it, Jesus walks boldly toward it. After all, he knows (and we should know) you cannot bring peace if you avoid the conflict. And that applies in religious circles as well as relationship and interpersonal spaces. How many of us much prefer to avoid or ignore conflict than to walk into it? I’ll admit: I do. I hate conflict. It gets me all knotted up inside. But it does no good to walk away or hide from it. That solves nothing. If peace is going to come, we have to walk toward the mess because that’s what Jesus would do—and what he does.

Several years ago, I had an ongoing conflict with a friend in another town. It was easy to ignore because we lived so far apart. But we had quit emailing, quit texting and pretty much left each other to their own lives. As things happened, we ended up traveling near where my friend lived, and my wise wife suggested we call and meet for dinner. I didn’t want to, but honestly, Cathy is hard to say no to, so I did, and we met, and the conversation, while hard, was fruitful. Peace was restored, conflict was ended, and a friendship was saved. Now, it doesn’t always turn out that way. Sometimes in relational conflict, so many hurtful things have been said and done that repairing things is next-to-impossible. I don’t believe it’s ever fully impossible if the grace of God is allowed to work in the situation, but I do know that we can’t do it all by ourselves. That’s why the apostle Paul says what he does: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18, emphasis added). I think that phrase right smack dab in the middle is so very important: “as far as it depends on you.” We can’t make others live in peace, but we can do what Jesus would do and not run away from the conflict. Do what we can. As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. As one author puts it, “We must seek out those places where God’s shalom is painfully absent…We must become like light shining in the darkness” (Porterfield 38). Disciples who want to fight like Jesus do not run away from the conflict, even when it’s hard. Because when was it ever harder than what Jesus was moving toward?

At the same time, those who fight like Jesus extend peace to all people, not just some, and not just those who are willing. Everyone. Even the Pharisees, in their complaint about Jesus’ actions, cynically realized the truth (whether they realized it or not) when they said, “The whole world has gone after him” (12:19). Jesus came to bring peace for all. Jesus chose a donkey to fulfill part of Zechariah’s prophecy, but after that promise come these words: “I will take away the chariots from Ephraim and the warhorses from Jerusalem, and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth” (Zechariah 9:10). And Zechariah goes on from there, but anyone who recognized the prophecy of the donkey would also remember the rest of what Zechariah said. There weren’t verses in the ancient texts; they memorized large blocks of the text. In fulfilling this prophecy, Jesus is coming to be not just the king of Israel as the people sang, but the king of the nations. He is coming to reign over all the earth, offering shalom to everyone.

Only he will not do it in the usual way. We fight battles and wars and when it’s over, we proclaim that “peace has come.” But in our version of such “peace” there are winner and losers. A lot was made of the “Pax Romana” or the “Roman Peace” in Jesus’ time, but it was a peace that was enforced by violence and threats. Again, think of Pilate coming into Jerusalem with all of his military might. He might have peace during Passover, but it would be enforced at the point of the sword. “Weapons of war cannot build a peaceful world for all; their purpose is to bring about destruction. They are instruments of death, not life. They are tools that harm, not heal” (Porterfield 39). And that’s why the peace Jesus is bringing is different. It is for everyone, and it is a peace that, according to Zechariah, is not won through chariots, warhorses or battle bows. As Jesus will show in the coming days, it is a peace that is won by him laying down his life willingly for the sake of the world. It is achieved by Jesus allowing the worst to be done to him so that he could give us all the very best. And that brings us to the third idea from this story.

Followers of Jesus are ones who follow the way of the lamb (Porterfield 40). No doubt, there are competing visions on this Palm Sunday. There is Pilate—pomp and circumstance, power and position. Later in the week, when Jesus stands before Pilate, the Roman governor will say to the rabbi from Nazareth, “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” (John 19:10). Pilate’s way is the way of the world, the way of being in charge, doing it ourselves, having power, influence and authority and using it. Even the people who gathered around Jesus expected or preferred the way of Pilate. They wanted Jesus to come in and kick out the Romans; they’ve been expecting him to do just that for the last three years. What was taking him so long? Pilate’s way is the way we know, the way we prefer. Pilate will bring peace by force, peace by intimidation.

And then there is Jesus. As I said earlier, everything Jesus does, including the route he takes into the city, is pointing to his role as the lamb of God. He is taking the place of the Passover lamb, and the way that lamb brings peace is by giving its life for the sake of someone else. In the original Passover experience, God was rescuing his people from slavery in Egypt, and there were all these plagues that came on the land of Egypt to try to convince Pharaoh to let the people go. And there were times Pharaoh seemed to soften, but then he would backpedal and change his mind. Finally, the worst of the plagues was promised: the death of the firstborn. The only way the Hebrews could escape the work of the angel of death was to kill a lamb and put its blood on the doorpost of their homes. Only then would the angel pass over (cf. Exodus 11-12). And they were to remember that night for ever after, to commemorate it with a meal, a night given over to the Lord, and the lamb was the central focus of that meal. Now, as he enters the city through the sheep gate, Jesus is becoming that lamb. Later in the week, he will die at the time when the lambs were being sacrificed at the Temple (John 19:31). Again, here is how Paul describes what Jesus was doing in that final act: “God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross” (Colossians 1:19-20). The only lasting peace is the peace Jesus brings. And the only hope this world has for lasting peace is when his people follow the way of the lamb: laying down our lives for the sake of others.

“God is love,” John will later write (1 John 4:8). The way of the lamb, the way of Jesus, is love, and “love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8). That is the way of the lamb, the way Jesus shows us to peace. What if what the Pharisees said had really become true? What if the whole world really had gone after him? I’d even settle if the whole church would fully go after him. What kind of a different world would we have if our battle cry wasn’t “power” but “love”? Maybe then, the Pilates of the world would be able to truthfully say, “Look how the whole world has gone after him!” Let’s pray.