Don Friesen
A Loud and Triumphal Entry
It began in the silence of the wilderness. It ended in a loud procession entering the city of Jerusalem. Today the Christian Church around the world celebrates one of the most colourful events of our spiritual heritage — the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. The Gospel of Matthew tells us that the procession crowd was "very large" (Matthew 21:8), that there was a lot of shouting (21:9), and that "the whole city was in turmoil". (21:10) Instead of processing to the stately "All Glory, Laud and Honour," this raucous crowd sounded more like All Glory, Loud Noise, and Clamour!
It's important to appreciate the context of this particular procession. It was the Passover and the city was jammed with pilgrims — thousands of pilgrims. It was like a Mardi Gras mob, and perhaps with a similar carnival spirit. Spirits were high! It was the gathering of the clans — and no doubt the street vendors as well, hawking their wares:
I'll give you a good deal on matzo.
Come and have your Passover dinner with us. We've got great food!
Consider too Israel's fate under the rule of King Herod, who had turned into a murderous despot with his infamous "Slaughter of the Innocents". (Matthew 2:16) Consider that about a decade later a Pharisee named Zaduk led a revolution in and around Jerusalem and 2,000 of his followers were killed! Killed by the Romans — and hung on crosses! Imagine the highway out to Cumberland, and every hundred yards or so ten men hanging dead on crosses! Two thousand dead men hanging on crosses for everyone to see! That would send a message to any revolutionary wanna-be's!
Consider also, that in the five years just previous to Jesus' entry into Jerusalem there had been thirty-two political riots! That would be like the Los Angeles riots taking place six times a year, for five years in a row! One can appreciate then, that Jerusalem was on edge — as were the Romans who ruled it. The tiniest spark could set off political pandemonium!
A Face Set like Flint
The political context is a familiar one, but what intrigues me is the character of the one entering this maelstrom of religious and political currents and under-currents. Our reading from Philippians tells us, "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 2:5) What was the mind of Christ in the week prior to his death? What was his state of mind during his time in Jerusalem?
I invite you to meditate upon the mind of Christ, though the Gospel writers don't provide a lot of detail on the matter. We can, however, surmise a few things. One clue may be found in our reading from the prophet Isaiah, where the Messiah is described as one whose face is "set like flint". (Isaiah 50:7) The Gospel of Luke uses Jesus' face to convey a resolute determination, twice indicating that "he set his face to go to Jerusalem". (Luke 9:51; also 9:53)
Flint suggests something hard, not easily dented by circumstances. It's a wonderful expression, conveying a resoluteness of character — a Messiah who would be firm and resolute despite all contempt and scorn that would greet him in the week ahead. A grim determination, perhaps, though I envisage something nobler. Jesus, the Messiah, had made up his mind to endure whatever his entrance into the Holy City might provoke; he would not shrink from any kind or degree of suffering necessary to accomplish his mission.
A face set like flint also suggests courage. No doubt each of us could name things that put fear in our hearts and that challenge our courage — things that we try to avoid if possible. Jesus did not try to avoid Jerusalem, though by the time he arrived in Gethsemane he was wondering if avoidance was still an option. His resoluteness was severely challenged. He may have had a face set like flint, but more than once that face was struck, slapped, and spat upon. (Matthew 26:67; John 18:22; 19:3)
Our reading from Isaiah portrays a messianic figure that had reason to be afraid, for he speaks of "...those who struck (him), and ...pulled out (his) beard...." He had to endure "insults and spitting" (Isaiah 50:6) — mean-spirited images evocative of Jesus' crucifixion — but, he continues, "The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint...." (50:7) Jesus, like the Isaiah's Suffering Servant, "hid not his face" but "set it like flint" — a firm face not confounded by spittle, slaps, blows, or a kiss of betrayal.
It may be but a slim clue to Jesus' state of mind on entering Jerusalem, but if you consider the many portrayals made of Jesus through the centuries it puts the lie to some of them. For example, the Jesus with a face-set-like-flint is nothing like the Jesus portrayed by nineteenth-century writer Ernest Renan (1823-92), whose Jesus resembles a Tiny Tim character tip-toeing through the tulips. The Jesus with a face-set-like-flint is not the meek and mild Jesus, knocking at the door of your ivy-covered heart, or the upbeat Jesus of the enthusiasts, for whom every day is a parade strewn with palm branches and punctuated by ecstatic hallelujahs.
Silence in the Face of Adversity
I think that Matthew gives us another clue about Jesus' character in Jesus' interaction with those who ruled Jerusalem and environs. Albeit brief, there are several such exchanges, though perhaps it's misleading to call them that, for Jesus' part in the dialogue is often silence.
After Jesus' arrest he was taken to the high priest (Matthew 26:57), there to face the wrath of the "chief priests and the whole council," who "were looking for false testimony against (him)". (26:59) Matthew tells us that " they found none, though many false witnesses came forward." (26:60) Perhaps expecting an eager objection from Jesus in his own defence, the high priest stood up and asked Jesus, "Have you no answer?" (26:62) "But Jesus was silent," says Matthew. And when the high priest grew ever more insistent, Jesus refused to answer with a simple yes or no. (26:64)
Later, when Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus replied with an enigmatic "You say so." (Matthew 27:11) Matthew continues, saying,"(And) when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, ‘Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?'" And Matthew repeats, "...he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge...." (27:12-14)
Jesus' silence is in vivid contrast to his entry into the city, at least according to the Gospel of Luke, who tells us that the parade was growing very loud, loud enough that the Pharisees were bothered by the noise — more so, of course, by its possible significance. They asked Jesus to get his followers to tone it down! And Jesus replied, "I tell you, if (they) were silent, the stones would shout out." (Luke 19:40) In other words, God put these people here, and if they weren't shouting out my name and cheering me on, God would make these stones cry out!
There is a time to speak, and a time to keep silence, says the Old Testament philosopher (Ecclesiastes 3:7), though it must be said that silence only takes on significance in symbiosis with language and context. Silence can be ambiguous. Why did Jesus say virtually nothing in his own defence? I would have thought that Jesus' moment before the courts of the land was a splendid opportunity to state his case — an unprecedented public forum in which to air and disseminate his views. We know that Jesus often bested the Pharisees in verbal jousts, so a little verbal duelling with the chief priests, elders and even the governor would have been like the Briar of verbal bonspiels.
But Jesus remained silent. Was his silence the silence of resignation? Despair? I don't think so. Jesus would not stoop to dignify the accusations against him with a response. And it really nettled Pilate. Matthew tells us that Pilate was amazed by Jesus' silence. (Matthew 27:14) Jesus' silence tore at Pilate. He marvelled at it. He couldn't understand it. This was no ordinary man.
Once one notices Jesus' silence before his accusers, one notices many other silences — or at least implied silences — in this last week of his life. (Wheaton Phillips Webb, The Dramatic Silences of His Last Week) One can imagine, for example, the scene in the Upper Room, that when Jesus announced his betrayer a heavy silence fell over the Twelve, at least until some of them gathered their wits and protested their innocence and incredulity.
One can imagine a stunned silence when the soldiers came to arrest Jesus in a shadowy garden, announced the target of their search, and Jesus answered, "I am he." (John 18:6) Jesus' forthright announcement might have been the signal for something amazing to light up the night — but instead an ominous and breathless silence came over the soldiers as they drew away from him and fell to the ground.
One can easily imagine an uneasy silence at the courtyard fire, when Peter denied his Lord and in the bleak stillness of dawn a cock crowed. When Jesus is dying on the cross one might expect the heavens to be vocal with vindication, but the silence is not punctuated by any voice from heaven, saying "This is my beloved Son." (Matthew 3:17) The silence is broken only by Jesus' own cry of abandonment, to be followed by the final silence of death.
An Ignoble End Borne Nobly
Isaiah tells us that the Suffering Servant "was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth." (Isaiah 53:8) Jesus' silence could be interpreted as the response of a victim, but I find great nobility in Jesus' response. The English philosopher, Francis Bacon (1561-1626) advised, "Rather assume thy right in silence and de facto than voice it with claims and challenges." (Of Great Place)
God promised that a noble Prince would come among us, that the eternal Word would become that Prince and fulfill all the ancient prophecies. This Prince, Philippians tells us, set aside his noble heritage and humbled himself, "taking the form of a servant". (Philippians 2:7, RSV)
Someone (Gordon MacDonald) has said that you can tell whether you are becoming a servant by how you act when people treat you like one. The nobility of Jesus comes through in his courage in the face of overwhelming adversity, and also in his ability to be a servant in a dignified manner.
Let this Noble Mind Be in You
The apostle Paul exhorts us, "Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all" (Romans 12:17) and to set our minds on whatever is noble. (Philippians 4:8, NIV) Paul exhorts us, "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 2:5) Let the same noble mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, we might say.
Nobility is found, not so much in an aristocratic bearing, as in the ability to act with dignity, even when people treat you in an undignified manner. Jesus "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped" (Philippians 2:6, RSV), but "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave...." (2:7)
I read of a successful executive on the rise in his profession who volunteered at a foot clinic for homeless people every Tuesday night. He wore nice clothes, and wore success comfortably, but at the clinic he would sit on a stool before a homeless guest, takes the guest's feet and place them in a basin of warm water. After washing them, he took a towel and dried the feet, applying ointment to their sores. When asked why he did this, the man answered, "I figure I have a better chance of running into Jesus here than most places."
Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.
Lambs for sale! I've got lambs for sale!
Any carnival-like atmosphere, however, was tempered by Jerusalem's political volatility. Jesus was entering a city ripe with political uncertainty, brought to a boil by ferment that had started years earlier. Consider that a century before (63 B.C.) the Roman general, Pompeii, had conquered Israel, and after three hundred years of freedom the Israelites were once again in slavery and wanted rid of the Romans.
All quotations of Scripture, unless otherwise noted, are from the New Revised Standard Version.