Jesus Is Not Harmless

Those feverish Palm Sunday crowds were excited to see Jesus riding into Jerusalem on that donkey because they thought he was going to make their lives immediately better. They saw Jesus as a cross between General Eisenhower and President Obama: a fabled military liberator and charismatic political savior who would return Israel to its glory days and Israel’s people to prosperity so that real estate prices would only go up, up, up.  But as soon as the crowds discerned that overturning Roman rule and preventing foreclosures was not on Jesus’ agenda, their cries of adulation turned to calls for Jesus’ murder (plus he lost the endorsement of the Chamber of Commerce minutes after emptying the temple). 

Instead of a giant federal bailout, Jesus called for radical obedience (John 14:15) and love for one another (John 13:34). Against the advice of his embarrassed agents and cringing handlers (if only the marketing people from “American Idol” had been available), he made it obvious that he claimed to be God with a capital “g” (John 14:9) and that he was the only way to.. uh, himself (John 14:6). He could have been written off as a loony except that he was so darn lucid everyone was reluctant to blame him with mental illness. 

Instead, they thought him dangerous, and they were right.  Here’s why.

Yes, the Jesus of Palm Sunday rode meek and lowly into Jerusalem on Passover week on a donkey (a donkey that just happened – weirdly -to be available right where Jesus told his disciples it would be), to the cries of happy children cutting school and singing “Hosanna.”  This happy scene points back five centuries to Zechariah 9, which put Israel on notice that its king would appear humbly, on a donkey, “speaking peace to the nations.”

But just as Palm Sunday points us back to Zechariah 9, it also points forward to the coming scene anticipated by John in Revelation 19, about the next time Jesus comes to town. It is obvious that we are to recall Palm Sunday as we read John’s vision, in which Jesus is greeted not by children crying “Hosanna” but by a heavenly choir singing “Hallelujah.”  The next time he comes Jesus arrives not for the Passover feast but for a party called the “marriage supper of the lamb,” which is basically the giant celebration of Christ’s reunion with his people, aka “the church,” aka all those who are loved by him and who love him. 

Before he parties, however, Jesus will have some whup-all justice to dispense.  Because at his return, this time, he’s not riding a donkey, all humble-like, but a big white horse.  And John notes that he’ll have a sword and he won’t be afraid to use it to “strike down those nations,” his offer of peace finally expired (Call now!  This offer won’t last forever!). By then it will be too late for those who wanted Jesus in their lives on their own terms, meek and mild and bearing happiness, cash and a home equity line of credit in his arms. This scene will not be funny, or precious.

In the meantime, the reason that the mob in Jerusalem went from praising Jesus to calling for his ignominious and cruel death in the space of about 120 hours is the same reason that Jesus is popular today only so long as he is kept spiritually neutered and uber-tolerant.  The donkey-riding Jesus suits everyone just fine, but that horseback Jesus is frightening if you can’t be sure he won’t turn that sword on you, so folks pretend that Jesus is only a really, really nice guy, even nicer than that kid in fourth grade who would give you his pickles on cheeseburger Fridays.

How to be sure you’ll be safe?  It’s easy, but only because the God who requires us to be holy has done all our heavy lifting.  Stop resisting God and recognize Jesus for whom he claimed to be: God’s son, our king, savior to all who trust in him. This is the gospel, a word for “good news.”  The good news is that the chasm between God’s holiness and our sin has been bridged by the perfect life of Jesus, and when Jesus’ obedience is credited to us we are forgiven and adopted by God. We become his sons and daughters, find real purpose in this life, expect great joy in the next, and don’t get wigged out at the prospect of Jesus’ next horseback ride.  

Knowing this makes our lives immediately better in a way that no general or politician or anyone or anything could, and this is what the Palm Sunday crowds missed.