Liturgy of the Passion

Luke 19:28-40

28After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29As he approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, 30"Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' tell him, 'The Lord needs it.' " 32Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. 33As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?" 34They replied, "The Lord needs it." 35They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. 36As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road. 37When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen: 38"Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!"
"Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!" 39Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, "Teacher, rebuke your disciples!" 40"I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

Liturgy of the Passion
Isaiah 50.4-9a; Philippians 2.5-11; Luke 22.14-end of 23

Church Times Sermon by Bishop of Whitby, Martin Warner

I ALMOST imagine my bike can talk. Usually, it urges caution. Similarly, in the romantic comedyShirley Valentine (filmed in 1989), Pauline Collins, who plays Shirley, converses with the wall in her kitchen, an eloquent statement about the dehumanised life of a suburban housewife. Perhaps all this is not so far from the biblical episode of Balaam’s donkey (Numbers 22.28), to whom God gives the power of speech.

Elsewhere in the scriptures, we are asked to imagine that inanimate things cry out in protest. In Genesis 4.10, God says to Cain, who has murdered his brother Abel: “What have you done? Listen; your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground.” Job, the model of Old Testament virtue, imagines that the land might cry out against him if he has defrauded its owners and caused their death (Job 31.38).

Some years ago, I remember being told of a group of pilgrims to the Holy Land, who had been shown a holy stone. “What is it?” they asked. “That”, said their guide, “is the stone that did not cry out when Jesus entered Jerusalem.” There are limits to credulity, of course, even in the world of Christian tourism. But perhaps something here can help us to reflect on today’s Gospel reading.

Luke’s account of the entry into Jerusalem is interesting because of what it does not include. There is no reference to palm branches, nor does he use the word “Hosanna”, a specifically Hebrew reference. Luke also appears to adapt the quotation from Psalm 118.26: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Taken as a single verse, it was a standard greeting to any pilgrim going to the Temple in Jerusalem.

Luke’s text, however, inserts a specific reference to the king, reminding us that the original focus of the psalm was on the royal and priestly figure at the centre of temple worship.

As the events of this week unfold, Jesus will reveal himself as priest and king, in his self-offering on the cross, and ironically acclaimed by Pilate as King of the Jews. Luke seems to have in mind here a quotation from Zachariah 9.9: “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey.”

It is hard to resist the impression that the acclamations of the crowds echo the song of the angels at the humble birth of Jesus (“Glory to God in the highest . . .” Luke 2.14), when the Wise Men’s attempt to discover his identity also caused turmoil in the city of Jerusalem (Matthew 2.3).

This is the moment to return to the stones. The birth narratives of Matthew and Luke both prepare us for the events of Holy Week. Matthew has told us that the disturbing wisdom of God is hidden from the eyes of the greedily powerful; that is why King Herod was so frightened.

Luke foresaw, through the eyes of Simeon when Jesus was presented in the Temple, that we fickle creatures would cheerfully reject the messenger and agent of our costly redemption: “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed” (Luke 2.34).

Luke’s words here direct us elsewhere in the psalm from which the crowds quote as Jesus enters Jerusalem. “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing, it is marvellous in our eyes. . . Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!” (Psalm 118.22-23, 25).

For Christians, this is a foundational text in the understanding of the death and resurrection of Jesus. Matthew claims that Jesus used it to explain the nature of the Kingdom of God as the sign of salvation offered to the whole human race (Matthew 21.43).

So what about the stones that did not cry out? The cornerstone draws on the understanding of how a building works. It reminds us that our church buildings, conditioning, as they do, the built environment of our towns and villages, are aligned on Jesus Christ. They exist in order to proclaim the presence of the Kingdom of God in our midst.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the stones did not cry out because the people who greeted him did. They spoke the truth, albeit unwittingly. Jesus came as pilgrim, priest, and king. He is not a Hebrew king, but a universal one, whose kingdom subverts human power structures that are not aligned on the justice of God, and whose sacrificial body and blood are the assurance of life and salvation.

If the stones — bricks, concrete, iron, and glass — of our buildings are to speak, yours is the voice they need to do it. This Holy Week, we all of us have a duty to let people know that we are celebrating the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, because we believe that in these momentous events lie the meaning of our life and dignity.

Here is where the cries of poverty, disease, bloodshed, and injustice echo not with revenge, but with God’s revealing of vindication, hope, and reconciliation. If we fail to let others know that this is the hour of their salvation and ours, let the stones reproach us — for we shall have had a part in silencing their potent message.