Luke 19:28-44 - Homiletics
From Jericho to Jerusalem.
The last glimpse which we obtain of Moses presents him wending his way up the slope of Mount Nebo, thence to give one fond gaze towards the land he might not enter, and, having so done, then to lay himself down and die. Imagination has often attempted to portray the working of the great lawgiver's mind, the emotion of his heart, the thoughts which must have crowded on him as he took that last solitary journey to the sepulchre which no man must know, in which the Lord alone was to bury him. Jesus Christ, by whom came grace and truth, is now facing the hill of sacrifice. He has begun the ascent to Mount Calvary, not alone and yet alone; the people crowd behind, but of the people there is none with him in the region of consciousness and desire. Only the Father knows the Son. Let us not attempt to draw aside the veil. Words to be pondered, but not commented on, are these ( Luke 19:28 ): "When he had thus spoken, he went before, ascending up to Jerusalem." Coming near the capital, Jesus and his apostles made for Bethany. It was Friday evening. He must spend the last sabbath on earth in the quiet of the rural village. We can suppose what that sabbath was—not so much to him, for now he is moving in a sphere beyond our vision, but to those with whom he passed the hallowed hours. When the sun sets and the sabbath is over, a family feast is made in the house of Simon, once a leper. Lazarus, the man raised from the dead, one of the party, Martha for the time resuming her old ways, and Mary filling her heart with his love, until, swayed by an irresistible impulse, she pours on him the contents of an alabaster box of ointment—the preparation against the approaching burial. It was on the Sunday morning that the Lord set out for Jerusalem, at first in the ordinary guise of a pilgrim. People were hovering around the home, waiting for him, and at every step of the journey the number increased. Then occurred the transaction mentioned in Luke 19:29-35 . From a place not now to be identified, but not far from Bethany, called Bethphage, or "the house of figs," the Saviour "in lowly pomp rides on to die." Verily, the King comes, "meek and lowly." His state, his pageant, at best is humble. And yet its simplicity is its royalty; its want of the poor tinsel and trapping of earthly greatness is the sign of the kingdom which is in the world, yet not of it. "Behold the Man!" "Behold your King!" The procession sweeps onward, along the southern shoulders of Olivet, until the road, having gained the summit of the hill, turns northward and begins the descent. And there the stream that had poured out from Jerusalem when the news was borne that the Prophet was on his way to the city met the stream pouring towards Jerusalem, and the disciples, inspired by an enthusiasm which was caught up and prolonged by the multitude, rent the air with songs ( Luke 19:38 ) of joy and praise to God, and rock and cave and peak sent it back in gladsome echoes. Truly, a soul-stirring entry! The whole city is moved as Jesus of Nazareth rides through its gate, and passes towards Mount Zion and the holy and beautiful house which glitters on its heights. Before we think of him there, pause over two characteristic signs of the King given in his journey on that day.
I. THE KING 'S WORD OF POWER . ( Luke 19:31 .) "Say, The Lord hath need of him." We do not believe that there was any secret agreement between Christ and the owner of the colt. But he was a man prepared for the announcement; he was at least in the outer circle of believers. He understood who was meant by "the Lord," and the Lord's need was the one irresistible argument. So should it be. That the Lord needs, that there is a use for us and ours, should be enough. First, the King's word has its bond over us personally. Man, woman, it is for thee that Jesus calls. He needs thy heart, for he redeemed it; thy life, for it is his; thyself, for "he is thy Lord, and worship thou him." Shall not the response "straightway" be, "Now to be thine, for ever thine"? And then the possessions. Art thou ready to give him what thou hast, however dear it may be? Ah! the life is a new life when Christ's voice, as the voice of the life's true Master, is heard, and the answer is returned, "Here am I for thou didst call me."
II. THE KING 'S SORROW . ( Luke 19:41 .) "He beheld the city, and wept over it." It has been noticed that "at the grave of Lazarus he had dropped silent tears, but here he wept aloud. All the shame of his mockery, all the anguish of his torture, was powerless to extort from him a single groan, or to wet his eyelids with one trickling tear, but here all the pity that was in him overmastered his human spirit, and he not only wept, but broke into a passion of lamentation in which the choked voice seemed to struggle for its utterance." It was the agony of the Saviour over the lost. There had been the time of the visitation, and Jerusalem had not known it. Now was the day, the hour, the last offer, the last opportunity; and it was to be rejected. The city was hardened in ignorance. It was blinded by its own deceived heart, and all that remained was ruin. And thus he weeps still; for still men hear their own passions and inclinations, not the voice of the prophets whom he rises early and sends.
"Ye hearts that love the Lord,
If at this sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
Ye hate what made him mourn."
Passion Week.
The last of the old Hebrew prophets, Malachi (3. and 4.), had announced that the Lord, the Sought One, would come "suddenly" into his temple, and manifest himself there in a threefold character—that of Judge, that of the Purifier and Refiner, and that of the swift Witness of the kingdom of heaven. It is in this threefold character that Christ is presented during the week in which he suffered. The Judge. St. Mark, with his usual delicacy of touch, informs us that, after the procession which swept through the gates of the city halted at the foot of Mount Moriah, Jesus advanced to the temple, walked through its courts, and looked round about on all things ( Mark 11:11 ). Every part of the building, every arrangement, every feature, was comprehended in that gaze. It was the act of the Judge. The survey completed, the Purifier and Refiner disposes his crucible. At the beginning of the ministry he cleansed the house of his Father, which had been rendered a den of merchandise; at the end of the ministry he repeats the cleansing (verses 45, 46). Jerusalem was crowded; outside the city wall there was a vast city of pilgrims' booths. For the sale of victims for sacrifice, and no doubt for the vending of many wares besides, the temple precincts were for the time a huge holy fair. One could scarcely distinguish that its real purpose was an asylum for weary hearts, a refuge for sin-stricken consciences, a place for quiet meditation and prayer. Where, amid the hubbub of buyer and seller, could the pious Israelite "dwell in the courts of Jehovah, beholding his beauty and inquiring in his temple"? It is this that kindles the wrath of the Son of God, and incites to the action portrayed by the synoptic evangelists. "Who shall stand when he appears who is like a refiner's tire, and like fuller's soap?" This purging of the holy house of that which made it like a cave of brigands was the work of that first day, which has been called Palm Sunday. The night which followed was spent in Bethany, perhaps on the slope of Olivet. On the second day we find the Lord again in the temple, and now in the third of Malachi's characters—as the swift Witness against the enemies of God. This was the aspect of his countenance on the days which remained until the night came on which, in the form of his human presence, the Lord could no more work. "He taught daily in the temple" (verse 47). The events of the Monday would seem to be these: In the keen-aired early morning, Jesus, on his way to the temple, is hungry. He sees a fig tree, evidently a conspicuous one, which, rich in leaves, gave the promise of fruit. There is nothing but leaves, a mere simulacrum, the semblance without the reality of goodness. As a lesson to all the ages, a swift witness against all part-acting, he pronounces over it the curse of the Eternal Truth, and leaves it to wither and rot. The temple gained, again the dense crowd gathers around the Prophet of Nazareth. The phrase is most expressive: "The people were very attentive to hear him" (verse 48). The tide had not yet turned. He was still engirt by the hosannahs of the multitude; when, lo! cries are heard, "Make way for the chief priest!" and, followed by a retinue of priests and scribes, the head of the temple-worship confronts the Teacher. Poor, purblind souls! they do not look for his authority to the truth with which he is filled, to the works which he does. To bigots like them the certificates which the truth supplies are unintelligible; their only point is a formally expressed delegation of power ( Luke 20:2 ). Had not Jesus met similar cavils at the Feast of Tabernacles two years before? Had he not argued ( John 5:32-47 ) that it is impossible for minds brimful of prejudice, loving and courting the honour of men, to understand him, to know whose he is, whence he comes, and by what right he speaks? But now he will not thus argue. They are there to browbeat and overawe him; they shall themselves be silenced by a thrust impaling them on the horns of a dilemma from which they will escape only in confusion and chagrin. Question is replied to by the question of Luke 20:3 ,
4 . They cannot answer. Then, rejoins the Truth, "Neither tell I you by what authority I do these things" ( Luke 20:8 ). And there follows a series of parables bearing on and bringing out the obstinacy which had just been exemplified: the two sons; the wicked husbandmen; and the marriage of the king's son. Only the second of these is quoted by St. Luke ( Luke 20:9-16 ). The parable is in harmony with well-known prophetic symbols; e.g. Isaiah 5:1-7 . The vineyard is the kingdom of God, which had been planted in Israel; the husbandmen are the priests and scribes to whom had been committed the care of the vineyard; the servants sent—first one, then another, and then a third—to demand the fruit, represent the prophets, ending with John the Baptist; and the climax of the wickedness of the husbandmen is the rejection and death of the beloved Son. "What will the owner do with such men?" Christ demands. He pauses for the reply; and, not perceiving that it is pronouncing its own judgment, his audience answers, "He will miserably destroy them, and give the vineyard to others," Ah! priest and Pharisee, out of your own mouth are you condemned. "The kingdom of heaven shall be taken from you, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof." And from startled consciences comes back the shuddering, "God forbid!" He has not done with them. The eye, flashing its holy fire, fastens on the crouching multitude, and, resuming the discourse, he sends straight home the words of Psalms 118:22 , Psalms 118:23 . Solemn, memorable words! Pause and ponder them. The spurning of the Incarnate Love and truth by those amongst whom he came often seems to us a miserable infatuation, a double-dyed sin against the Holy Ghost. Are we sure that Christ, coming as the swift Witness, would be welcomed even in the house of his friends to-day? The late General Gordon said, "No; he would be a Stranger, rejected, if not despised, by the society which is professedly Christian," One thing, at all events, is strange; and that is that men and women should live in such marvellous light as that into which we are called, and remain the men and women they are, unmoved by, unresponsive to, the voice of God, willing to live apart from him whose service is their perfect freedom. May we not summon ourselves before the great white throne of truth, and ask whether God is receiving from us the fruit of his own vineyard; whether we are consciously and really living to him; whether our attitude towards the Son of his love is that of a whole-hearted and loyal acceptance; or only like that which has been strikingly compared to "some fever-reduced patient, lifting himself up for an instant from the bed on which he is lying, and putting out a hand, and then falling back again, the vacillating, fevered, paralyzed will recoiling from the resolution, the conscience having power to say, 'Thou oughtest,' but with no power to enforce the execution of its decrees, and the heart turning away from the salvation that it would have found in the love of God to the loss that it finds in the love of self and earth." That vacillation, that impotence, is the strange, sad thing. Reflect intensely, prayerfully, on the house which the builders rejected. Which of the two ways is it, will it be: this House taken as the Head of the corner, the reconciling centre of all the days—pride, wilfulness falling on it, and through the fall broken? or, the house rejected, and the Corner-stone falling on the disobedient soul, grinding its very strength to powder? Love rejected—the wrath of the Lamb: who can measure that force?
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