Sermon Tone Analysis

*Are You Running?*

*Theme: *Truth isn't found in running with crowds.

Truth is only found in daring to follow Christ.

*Exegesis: John 12:12-16*

In John 11:55-56 the gospel writer foreshadows the enthusiasm and expectation of the crowd that will join Jesus on his entrance into Jerusalem.

It's not surprising, therefore, that because of this heightened anticipation, John specifies that the crowds, gathered in Jerusalem for the Passover festival, go out to meet Jesus as he approaches the city (verse 13).

The welcoming cries and extravagant demeanor of all these eager celebrants was fueled by the buzz in the temple courtyards, where the number one topic of conversation was Jesus' raising of Lazarus from the dead (John 12:9).

All four gospels tell of Jesus' triumphant entrance into the city.

Each writer records remarkably similar details about the crowds.

First, in each gospel the crowd's behavior includes waving palm fronds or branches as a sign of respect and royalty before the approaching Jesus.

Although palm fronds have no liturgical connection to the Passover festival, they had long been used as a national symbol of Judea, both in textiles and in minted coinage.

For example, at the time of 1 Maccabees 13:51 (c.141), the victorious Simon Maccabee was greeted by the exhilarated crowds with waving palm fronds.

For those in that Passover crowd the day Jesus approached Jerusalem, the waving palm fronds signaled the hope that a political~/military~/national Messiah had arrived in their midst.

The palm branches offered the same kind of nationalistic show of support that we do today when patriotic citizens wave little flags at a presidential motorcade or parade.

Second, the cry of Hosanna is mentioned.

Hosanna is a transliteration of the Hebrew /hosi-a-na//./

Literally "give salvation now," Hosanna is simply a general exclamation of praise, and was a familiar cheer.

Taken from Psalm 118:25, Hosanna was ritually sung each morning during the Feast of Tabernacles (Booths), while the men waved the traditional willow and myrtle branches or /lulah/.

In fact, these lulah became known colloquially as hosannas.

The crowds' words as Jesus continues towards Jerusalem also continue in the praises of Psalm 118, moving on to "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord" (verse 26).

Despite the fact that the disciples are still confused and unsure of Jesus' identity (and even more so about his mission), this crowd of Passover celebrants have no qualms about designating Jesus with a clearly messianic title.

Throughout Old Testament Scripture the one who comes in the name of the Lord is understood to be the expected Messiah.

But John's text quotes the crowd to make sure we understand their perception of Jesus.

This welcoming parade adds its own insight, "the King of Israel."

This crowd is thinking of a political, even a military Messiah (a hope Jesus' own disciples might themselves still be nurturing), and they're boldly confident in their announcement.

It's only after this nationalistic chant is offered up by the masses around Jesus that John slips in another element of the story common to all four gospels.

While in the Synoptics there's a considerable amount of detail provided about the young colt or donkey that's retrieved for Jesus to ride into the city, here in John there's only a minimal mention of this detail.

Since John usually delights in recalling any supernatural events that occurred around Jesus it may at first seem odd that he would choose to omit Jesus' clairvoyant knowledge of the young animal and what his owners would say to the disciples who came to get him.

But brought in at this moment in John's version—immediately following the crowd's exuberant but inaccurate recognition of Jesus—the ordinariness and unimposing nature of Jesus' chosen steed contrast dramatically with the crowd's chants and cheers.

The image Jesus cut was hardly that of a powerful, conquering hero, riding into Jerusalem on the back of a spindly young donkey.

The masterful insertion of this detail about Jesus' mount enables John to draw a clear distinction between any militaristic messianic expectations and the other messianic images present in Old Testament Scripture.

He now cites the portion of Zechariah 9:9 that mentions this very type of unexpected steed and the actions of a different kind of Messiah.

Perhaps because John recognizes that his image is startling, he replaces the original opening lines of Zechariah 9:9 ("Rejoice") with the comforting, reassurance of "Fear not" (whose roots may be from Isaiah 40:9).

The Zechariah text emphasizes a gentle king, contrary to the crowds nationalistic hopes for a zealous warrior king.

In Zechariah this new, gentle ruler will usher in a period where there's no war, where peace is proclaimed (see Zechariah 9:10), and where prisoners are released—at the price of his own blood.

Like Mark, John's gospel reveals that Jesus' disciples didn't understand what their master was saying or doing during the time he was among them.

Only after the resurrection, after the reminders and insights provided by the Holy Spirit (see John 14:25-26), do the disciples finally get it.

Today's verse 16 is in keeping with that theme.

It's remarkably similar to his comments about the disciples being unable to understand Jesus when he spoke about the temple being destroyed and then raised in three days (John 2:22).

In both cases it's only after Jesus' death and resurrection, after "Jesus was glorified" (verse 16), that the disciples can at last see the coherent plan that shaped all Jesus said and did while he was in their midst.

Not until Jesus' resurrection and glorification did Jesus' ministry and mission finally make "sense" to the disciples.

*TEXTALIVE : The Word Made Flesh Dwells . .

.*

One of the most striking things about Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday are the big crowds.

We love big crowds and we welcome big crowds.

Dressed in new spring clothing (and probably freezing in it!),

those who aren't quite regular attenders will swell our numbers next week as the church celebrates the spring miracle of Easter.

It's exhilarating to be part of a big crowd, a great gathering of happy, expectant worshipers reaffirming our faith and refilling our spirits with the hopes and promises of the resurrection.

No wonder everybody shows up.

Palm Sunday reminds us that Jesus and his disciples were journeying to Jerusalem during the same kind of anticipatory days, amongst the same kind of growing crowds and excitement.

In the writings of the first century Jewish historian Josephus (Bel.

vi 422-425), he notes that in the years immediately preceding the Jewish war (c.66) the crowds of Passover pilgrims number over two million!

While Josephus' headcount might be creatively augmented, his report nevertheless confirms that it was typical for huge crowds to migrate into Jerusalem for the Passover festival.

It's a portion of those massive crowds that go out to meet Jesus.

His reputation as a teacher—and more recently as the one who had miraculously raised Lazarus from the dead (see John 12:9)—had preceded him.

This crowd greets Jesus joyously, with all the spur-of-the-moment pomp and circumstance they can muster.

Palm fronds are brandished to wave the wonder-worker into the city.

The psalmist's cheer of praise Hosanna (Psalm 118:25) was chanted by some, while those who knew their Scripture continued with Psalm 118:26, proclaiming "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord."

What the crowd really anticipated, however, was demonstrated by the part of their welcoming chant that was not from Psalm 118.

In its exuberance the hopeful crowd added on a gloss to Scripture—"the King of Israel"—a title which, while theologically correct, was obviously understood by this throng as a nationalistic, political, even militant title.

As is common with crowd assessments, crowd judgments, crowd conclusions . . .

they were wrong.

There's an old saying: "Put it to a vote, and they'll always vote to go back to Egypt."

There's something about the anonymity of crowd decisions, the headlong, headstrong energy of the pack, that makes wrong decisions seem so right, bad choices seem so flawless, cruel actions seem so sensible.

Time and again in Scripture, in story after story, when the crowd spoke and its majority vote was taken, it was a big mistake:

1.     Adam and Eve's fateful decision in the Garden (They were a majority);

2.     The building of the tower of Babel;

3.     Noah, one man standing against the whole world;

4.     The 9 to 1 vote of Joseph's older brothers that resulted in his enslavement in Egypt (although Gen. 50:20 puts an interesting slant on that);

5.     The golden calf thing with Aaron and the Israelites at the bottom of Mt.

Sinai while Moses was up top, Aaron being put in the position as leader.;

6.     Joshua and Caleb's minority report (they were outvoted 10-2);

7.     Gideon stood in the minority in Judges 6 against his whole town

8.     Electing Saul as a King (even though Samuel and God thought it a bad idea)

9.     Absalom "stole the hearts of the people."

10.

Elijah versus the prophets of Baal in the contest on Carmel

11.

All the disciples fled and left the one man, Jesus

And possibly the most inexplicable and worst crowd decision ever made . .

.the crowd's response to the choice Pilate offered them: "We want Barabbas!"

Jesus was crucified by majority vote, by a crowd mentality.

In fact, I can't find a single majority vote in Scripture in which the majority voted right.

Can you?

We live north of Seattle, and in the last few weeks the voices and emotions of two very different crowds have vied for public attention in the downtown streets.

On one hand Seattle is known for being a very liberal, freethinking, and very antiwar community.

(Remember the "Battle of Seattle" street demonstrations against globalization a few years ago?) Huge crowds of concerned, outraged, impassioned people have marched through the city deploring US military deployment in Iraq.

Some of them are carrying banners denouncing "US Genocide."

On the other hand the Seattle area is also home to two large military bases, a submarine port, and several squadrons of military aircraft.

Huge crowds of concerned, outraged, impassioned people have marched through the city calling for support for the US military involvement in Iraq and the service men and women who have found themselves in the midst of that war.

Some of them are carrying banners denouncing "Traitors in our Midst."

The din of both crowds is considerable.

But the truth that each crowd proclaims isn't always discernible.

It seems that in a crowd the discernment of any single mind become stretched into distortions of the truth.

The flaws and imperfections that cloud any one individual's rational abilities become magnified by the mass of a crowd mind, causing an exponential explosion of error, misconception, and just plain falsehood.

When NASA technicians calculate the timing and trajectory for launching one of their deep space probes, they admit that the slightest flaw will be magnified by the millions as that piece of equipment hurls through space.

What may have started out as the most minute of misperception may cause the project to miss its destination by hundreds of thousands of miles.

That's the power of crowd manipulation and misrepresentation.

In the US~/Iraqi conflict one of the major goals of this military intervention (i.e.

"war") is to topple the dictatorship of Saddam Hussein.

His single-handed, brutal-fisted rule of that country allows for virtually no personal freedoms among the population, and keeps all who would deal with him at the mercy of his whims and cruelties.

His name will go down in history in the same category as Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Idi Amin, and a whole host of other 20th century dictators.

The truth is: dictators fascinate us.