El burro sabe mas que tu: Prophetic Allusions and Recognizing God

28 After Jesus had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29 As 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. 31 If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ say, ‘The Lord needs it.’” 32 Those who were sent ahead went and found it just as he had told them. 33 As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” 34 They replied, “The Lord needs it.” 35 They brought it to Jesus, threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. 36 As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road. 37 When 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!”[a] “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” 39 Some 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.” 41 As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it 42 and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. 43 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. 44 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.” ~ Luke 19:28-44 

[a] Psalm 118:26

Do you recognize allusions?

 An allusion, of course, is a symbolic action or literary device designed to call something to mind without mentioning it explicitly. It’s often an indirect or passing reference that aims to help us see deeper, to make more profound connections, to say something powerful by playfully saying less (I know that’s ironic coming from me – saying less is not something I often do.) “It’s often when a little bit of one story joins onto an idea from another, and hey presto, . . . not old tales but new ones” (Salman Rushdie). Not surprisingly, its etymology comes from two latin words which literally mean “play with us.”

Some allusions we know

“In the war over eating right, the donut with sprinkles was his Achilles' heel.”

 Some we have forgotten

“We all have collectively decided to boycott this new scheme started by our local government.”
 

Boycott is an allusion to an 1880 Irish political controversy between Captain Charles Cunningham Boycott and his community, which shunned him.

Some are funny

In a Simpsons’ episode called “Genesis Tub,” Bart’s sister Lisa tries to dissolve a tooth in soda only to create a group of little people (hey, it’s a cartoon). At one point, Lisa declares, “Wait, one of them is nailing something to the door of the cathedral,” she gasps, “I’ve created Lutherans!” This is a historical reference to Martin Luther nailing his “95 Theses” to the door of the Church. If you don’t know the historical allusion, you miss the joke.

In our story today, the prophetic allusion is not about donuts or Lutherans but all about a donkey (hence our title for today’s sermon, which translates: "The donkey knows more than you!"). Notice that we aren’t given any specifics about the two disciples – who they are, are they part of the twelve? – nor or we told which village they are sent to – Bethphage? Bethany? or another?. All of this contrasts with a detailed description of a colt or donkey. 

          1.     The colt is tied and must be untied (mentioned 5 times in our passage)

Vs. 30 “you will find tied there a colt”

Vs. 30 “untie it and bring it here”

Vs. 31 “If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?”

Vs. 33 “As they were untying the colt”

Vs. 33 “Why are you untying the colt?”

The allusion was a reference to Jacob’s blessing to Judah in which a ruler over all the nations was to come (Genesis 49:10-11). ¹⁰ The scepter will not depart from Judah, nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until he to whom it belongs shall come and the obedience of the nations shall be his.¹¹ He will tie his donkey to a vine, his colt to the choicest branch; he will wash his garments in wine, his robes in the blood of grapes.

          2.     But there’s more. The colt Jesus rides has also “never been ridden.”

According to Zechariah, a messiah, a king, would come to Jerusalem “humble and riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey (9:9). A foal, in other words, would of course be unridden.  

          3.     They spread their garments on the road and quote Scripture.

The cloaks spread out on the ground signal their understanding that Jesus is a king, the messiah, the promised one of God who would bring God’s reign (2 Kings 9:12b-13) and then they shout a royal psalm, Psalm 118, which details God’s steadfast love and his emissary who would bring “salvation.” They quote vs. 26, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

          4.     Jesus enters through the gates of the city.

This is also a symbolic action. Jesus’ chosen route on a donkey over the Mount of Olives, across Kidron, and up to the Temple Mount spoke more powerfully than words could have of a royal claim. The geography was unmistakably messianic. In fact, it was made even stronger by the allusion to Zechariah 14:4, in which God himself, it was said, would come and first stand on the Mount of Olives before he brought victory. Moreover, entering into a city was the sign of an already achieved victory.

          5.     Finally, the ending of Jesus’ ride has Jesus weeping over Jerusalem

In numerous biblical citations, such as Jeremiah 9:1 (see also Lamentations, Psalms, etc.) prophets wept over cities that failed to listen to and obey God, though Luke is the only one to include this. 

So why should we care if we get the allusions? All of these allusions have everything to do with “recognizing . . . God’s coming” and because Jesus’ warning speaks of real consequences, if we miss it. So how do we go about recognizing God?

          1.     Recognizing God is all about reading Scripture. And the Scripture points to Jesus.

So what Jesus does is prophesied. It’s God’s plan. And yet, would you have caught the prophetic references, his acting out of Scripture? Have you read carefully enough? Would you have recognized the visitation from God? The allusion is plain, and I would argue, intentional on the part of Jesus. This ride, his story, his coming to Jerusalem and what he will face is what the Bible is truly about – from the prophecy in Genesis, the first book, almost to its end (Zechariah is the second to last book of the OT). Do you have plan for reading Scripture?

Jesus regularly quotes, infers and acts out Scripture. If you don’t know it – you won’t recognize him. (56 Club and Jesus’ statement, “I am.”). Scripture, in other words, was Jesus’ field to play in. This means that Scripture is not an end, in and of itself. It’s not some divine theory on everything but it’s chief task is to point to Jesus, to help us recognize him. Scripture is Jesus’ “Wanted Poster”.

So the Bible is not really a “how to” book that answers all our nagging questions or make us successful in all our endeavors.  It’s not a “How to” book but a “Here is the One who” book. First and foremost it tells everyone: Here is who Jesus Christ is and therefore here is who you are and need to become in relation to him. The world is awash with “how to” books on every topic. The bible is not simply another one of them, or even the original one that is divinely inspired. It is the written revelation of God that points us to the true word, our salvation (John 5:39-40). C.S. Lewis wrote, “It is Christ Himself, not the Bible who is the true Word of God. The Bible, read in the right spirit, and with the guidance of good teachers, will bring us to him.” The Bible doesn’t ride in on the donkey, it doesn’t receive the praise of One who comes in the name of the Lord, it is not our object of worship, but it does help us recognize him. And he will help us read it, sort out what matters, what should continue and what shouldn’t. But that can only happen if we look to him.

          2.     Biblically literate people can still reject God. They can still make God weep.

I believe that the people saw most, if not all, of Jesus’ royal allusions. Yet, some of them they just couldn’t accept. They had to know about the peaceable kingdom of Zechariah’s donkey rider but they simply couldn’t believe it. They didn’t want to recognize what kind of king Zechariah says will come:

“He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war-horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations (9:10).

This king, it was prophesied, wouldn’t so much make war as end it. This king would destroy defense spending not enemies. And Psalm 118, which the crowd uses to praise Jesus? Jesus had to know that that same Psalm declared, “They surrounded me like bees; they blazed like a fire of thorns . . . I was pushed hard, so that I was falling.” “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” What is the rejection? They don’t reject Jesus as king as long as he rules the way they wish him to by destroying the Romans and returning Israel to her former glory. And truthfully there were many texts that suggested just that. So reading “the Bible alone” is simply not good enough. You also have to read it with Jesus in mind – to listen to him carefully, to watch him observantly, to read it as a book about him. If they had they would have realized that Jesus was a king who would subvert their national narrative. He would not make Israel great again. He would reveal God to be great by rejecting their militarism, their blood lust and by bringing peace between all peoples (Jew and Gentile, Male and Female, Slave and Free, Immigrant and Citizen). Jesus saw their rejection coming a mile away before that lonely march toward Jerusalem. Earlier, in Luke 19:14 he will tell a story to his disciples about a “nobleman” “hated” by the citizens of his own country who say, ‘We do not want this man to rule over us.’”

So Holy Week begins every year with this odd, beautiful, painful dissonance that the one we praise is the one we so often reject. The one we need is not the one we want. The one we worship is the one that we still don’t understand. “Save us,” we say, “but don’t rule over us.” I want to end the sermon by pointing out one last allusion – actually, the omission of one. 

Did you notice that for Luke this is NOT “Palm” Sunday? The laying down of palm branches is the one thing he leaves out.  Why? Luke omits them, scholars theorize, because palm branches were the most poignant political symbol of the day having marked the coins of former Israel. So maybe he omits them because they hearken back to national narrative of favoritism, which said, “God loves us and will destroy all our enemies – that is, all non-Jews.” Remember, Luke, tradition tells us, was a gentile and the presence of palm branches would have reflected his own rejection by Jesus’ followers. Or maybe it’s simply because they get this part so incredibly wrong - Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world. This wasn’t meant as a spiritual vs. material distinction but as a violence vs. peace one – Jesus’ kingdom will not be about violence, political machinations and national triumph. Maybe, Luke as he wrote this wept himself.

Palm Sunday reveals something often true about me. And this story couldn’t come at a more auspicious time. For it reveals that there is both violence and nonviolence in me, even though I don’t believe in both. I love Jesus, praise him but maintain horrible inconsistencies. I don’t want Jesus to ride anything like a donkey – I’d secretly like a tank. I don’t want a cross I’d often prefer a smart bomb. I don’t want enemies forgiven or loved, I want them wiped off the face of the earth. I don’t want salvation, I want shock and awe. I don’t want a savior to save me from my sins, I want a politician to save me from taxes, Isis, immigrants – basically everything else. And Jesus warns me that rejecting his peace, his shalom – peace with God, peace with each other, peace with the natural world, and peace with ourselves, by wanting a political savior will only and always mean a horrific defeat.

Palm Sunday reminds us that all too often we worship and praise rightly, read about and pray to correctly, a God that we simply just don’t get or even want to. It exposes the myth that if we could see God crystal clear we would do everything he says, want everything that he wants. And maybe that acknowledgement: the laying down of our political illusions, confessing our inconsistencies, our blind-spots, simply weeping, means that we finally can recognize him, if only through a veil of tears.

Gary Ben Lemmond: A Tribute (November 6, 1943 - February 4, 2016)

God created Dad because God loves stories. And my Dad didn’t just tell stories – he lived them. Ones that often felt bigger than life. Unfortunately, one will have to suffice. I was in eighth grade and the school district just announced a new rule that it would no longer accept hunting or fishing trips as “acceptable absences” – only trips to the doctor or dentist. My dad was livid because he simply couldn’t abide being told what to do and because a group of dads took us kids every Spring on a dove hunting trip to Cotulla, TX, which meant that they had to pull us out of school early on a Friday. Now, I’m a rule follower by nature and I remember telling my dad that we would have to go later because I didn’t want an unaccepted absence on my record. He told me, “Don’t worry about it.” Well, Friday came and just before noon an office aide arrived in my class informing me that my father was waiting on me in the office. I distinctly remember that something was odd because the person had a strange look on her face. When I arrived  - there Dad was in all his glory, clothed from head to foot in camo – and not the nice stuff but ones that had seen some action and a bit of blood. And as I walked through the door I heard him tell the attendance worker, “He’s going to the dentist.”

Stories and laughter were Dad’s weapons, his armor, his spiritual gifts and means of telling the truth. Dad considered the world a funny place and God a masterful jokester. Even in his last days when things were hard you could hear him cracking a few jokes. The family hopes that you tell his stories today. And friends, I firmly believe that as we tell them God will say, “Go on, tell’em again."

But Dad was more than a story teller. He also loved stories. In John 8, one of Dad’s favorites, Jesus encounters the Pharisees who bring to him a woman caught in adultery and they wanted to stone her. Jesus responds, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” And the story goes on tell us that “When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him.”  In this life, Dad learned to give up being a stone thrower. He came to dislike self-righteous condemners and those who pretended not to be sinners. With Jesus’ help, he believed, anyone could change. He had seen it. He saw his father turn from alcoholism to become a beloved grandfather because of God’s love and power. Along with the Gospels, Dad knew all too well that it was religious people who were actually in danger of missing God and dangerous to others. They were always the ones who opposed Jesus and his work. Dad believed that anyone who has not been tempted couldn’t enter the kingdom of heaven. Without temptation, one can’t be saved. I’d like to think that Dad at the end of his life very much embodied the words of the Apostle Paul, who toward the end of his, in 1 Timothy, said “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the worst.” Before he died, Dad noticed that I was in altercation with a number of other pastors on Facebook about a blog that I had written about “welcoming” all people into the church. On this issue he couldn’t help but weigh in. He wrote, “Jon, as you are well aware I am not a religion scholar but I don't think Jesus saw the woman as a prostitute but as a sinner just like the rest of us! Keep on doing God's work!” For Dad, welcoming sinners was always God’s work and our own. And Dad, Dad always wanted to be first in line.

The reason my Dad loved this text is because it spoke to Dad’s weakness. Dad had regrets. When he talked about his life he told me that he sometimes had let anger get the best of him – stones had wound up in his hands.  And for this he was sorry. And if he were here he would urge us all to let such anger and stone throwing go. And if he had ever turned that anger on anyone present. He would want me to tell you for him, “I’m sorry.”  I’m glad to say that, in the end, my Dad’s fate resembled that of the woman caught in adultery – standing before Jesus who says, “Neither do I condemn you.”

The final thing I would say about Dad is that he thought awe was the most appropriate response to God and all that God has made. Dad had no time for any theology or sermons that explained God in neat and tidy ways. He always used to say to me, “Jon, any God that I can totally understand isn’t too bright and not a God worth knowing.” He loved the outdoors and all that God has made. He loved fishing and hunting. One time, I called him on the phone and he picked up immediately and began to whisper. I asked him, “What are you doing?” He responded, “I’m in a deer blind.” “O,” I asked, “you’re hunting?” “No,” he said, “I’m not hunting. I’m just looking.” That’s why Dad liked the Psalms so much – He loved to look– to truly see new things, to explore diverse landscapes with mom, to see the glory of God not as some mere spiritual thing but as heaven on earth. Like King David, Dad was a “taste and see that the Lord is good” kind-of-guy. Like David, Dad’s invitation to us would be, “let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him.” I think this is also why my Dad loved music so much at church – music, much like the wild deer he loved to watch, was imaginative, inspiring, and lovely. He loved sermons that led him through wonderful, picturesque places and which presented truth and God never simply as facts but also as something beautiful, something awesome.  

Toward the end – when Dad’s illness was bad he prayed a prayer every night from the Bible that would allow him to express his deep pain and abiding faith, Psalm 23. You can find it in your order of service. And to honor him and the Lord whom he loved, will you say this prayer with me.

I would like to leave you with two benedictions.

Benediction number one comes from me: May the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ go with you wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness and protect you from the storm. May he bring you home rejoicing at the wonders he will show you. May he bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.

Benediction number two is from Dad who when he was ready to go would always smack his hands together and say, “We’re out of here!”