It had been a long, hard journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, more than 80 miles, all on foot on roads that were usually dusty, often dangerous and never smooth. For the disciples the journey had been hard in other ways as well. Several villages had not made them welcome and many a night had been spent in the open air and many a day begun on an empty stomach. But even that hardship was not the worst, for most of the disciples were young and strong, and used to both discomfort and danger. The worst hardship arose from the way Jesus was talking... the strange things he was saying. Gone were the excited crowds of Galilean peasants. Gone were His words of comfort, challenge and promise. Now the talk was not of the Kingdom but of separation, not of peace but of division, not of life but of death. Like a theme-tune, one statement recurred: "The Son of Man must suffer and die."
For men who had forsaken livelihood, family and reputation in the hope of being part of some new exciting expression of faith, talk of suffering and death was hard to bear. They neared Jerusalem with only about a week to go before Passover and, uncertain as they were, the disciples were caught up in the thrill of visiting the Holy City. Some of them had never been out of Galilee before, let alone in Jerusalem. Crowds of pilgrims thronged the roads. They sang the familiar psalms such as, I Will Lift Up My Eyes To The Hills and I Was glad When They Said To Me-Let Us Go To The House Of The Lord. The disciples joined in, forgetting for a moment the stern sayings of Jesus about selling everything and giving to the poor, about recognising that the critical time was near, and about pain and death. Near some small community on the outskirts of the city, Jesus asked two of the disciples to go to fetch a colt.
They brought it and Jesus mounted.
Despite the fact that the animal had never been broken in, he had no trouble with it. The excitement of the pilgrims now found a new focus and they began to cheer and sing and wave branches and cloaks.
Then somebody who knew the Scriptures began to shout a quotation from the prophet Zechariah:
"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Lo, your King comes to you;
Triumphant and victorious is her,
Humble and riding on an ass,
On a colt, the foal of an ass."
Others took up the cry and soon Jesus was the centre of a jubilant crowd, singing its way to Jerusalem.
The disciples were a willing part of the crowd. Perhaps at long last Jesus was going to be welcomed and acclaimed as God's deliverer. If so, what better place than Jerusalem? If so, what better time than Passover? Perhaps, a last and glorious stage of His ministry had been reached. Perhaps His comments on pain, rejection and death were not relevant now. As they neared the city the crowd calmed and the excitement ran more deeply but more quietly. Many of the pilgrims had saved for a lifetime for this visit and the first sight of the Holy City was to be savoured with solemnity, not with shouting. So the disciples and Jesus were together in a group when they got their initial glimpse of the city and the temple. At first they simply gazed at the city-the walls, the gates, the houses, the temple...always the temple. Then their eyes went back to Jesus, who surely was enjoying the moment after the enthusiasm of the crowd a few minutes ago. But Jesus was not enjoying the moment. Still on the animal, He sat like a statue and cried silently. The tears made marks through the dust on His face and ran into His beard.
The modern-day person who sees this picture, and witnesses the sudden change from triumph to tears, has only one question: "Why?"
Why was Jesus weeping?
Surely the welcome, the Psalms, and the excitement would stir the mind and heart of Jesus with pleasure?
Could He not enjoy the moment and leave the tears for later?
But perhaps if we look at his ministry as a whole and this incident in particular we may find clues to the sorrow that Jesus felt. Perhaps Jesus cried because He knew that enthusiasm and commitment are not the same. Throughout His ministry there had been those who wanted the excitement of His company without commitment to His principles.
For such people He had one devastating sentence: "No man, having put His hand to the plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." Mind you, it is not that enthusiasm is not good, but that it is not enough. The crowds outside Jerusalem could give Him an enthusiastic welcome, but they would not take His side in the temple when the atmosphere was tense and the authorities hostile. It is a principle of life that while enthusiasm is noble, warm and contagious when there is hostility, danger and a price to be paid, then only commitment will suffice. Jesus cried at the sight of Jerusalem because He was greeted with enthusiasm at a time when only commitment was enough. Perhaps also Jesus cried because he knew that religion and holiness are not the same. There was a glory about Jewish religion--the dignity of the old priests, the antiquity of the law, the magnificence of the temple, the detail of the traditions--but it was fatally easy to believe that being religious and being holy are the same thing.
Jesus knew that this religion would be a signpost and gateway to holiness; He knew also how easily it could become an escape, an end in itself. It is almost a principle of life that while religion gives security, dignity and a sense of tradition, when society is in turmoil and the landmarks are removed, only holiness will suffice.
Perhaps in an era of statistics and charts and budgets and reports, we run the risk of confusing religion and holiness. But the church which is fullest is not necessarily the holiest. The person who is most often in church is not necessarily the most pious, any more than the person who can quote the scripture is necessarily the most godly. The outward aspect is important, but it is at the level of motivation, purpose and ultimate resolve that holiness is found. In the social and ethical upheaval of the twentieth century, religion may be swept away in the flood, but holiness will weather the storm. Jesus wept at the sight of Jerusalem because there, at the heart of a glorious tradition, religion was being practised at the time when only holiness was enough. Perhaps Jesus also cried because He knew that attachment and love are not the same. Several times during His ministry the disciples wanted punishment or at least rebuke for those who refused to respond to Jesus' teaching. But each time His love found expression and He allowed people their freedom of choice, even if it meant they rejected Him. This was all now focused sharply as He saw the city and His heart went out to it.
He voiced His grief over the doomed city in the words: "If only you had known, on this great day, the way that leads to peace" But Jesus would not compel anyone to believe. He had never compelled anyone to follow Him; He had not compelled the disciples to leave Galilee. He would not compel them to stay with Him when danger threatened. This was not because He did not love them, but because He loved them so much. It is a principle of life that while attachment is better than isolation, when the danger level rises, when the committed have to stand to be counted, then only love will suffice. Attachment to a cause or a person is good, but it leaves room for detachment, for manipulation. Love commits itself, does not draw back, does not make conditions, and always leaves the other person freedom of choice. How hard it is for leaders to love their people in this way. How hard to go on loving when they fail to respond in what we think is an appropriate way. How hard it is for parents to love their children in this way. Most of us love our children so intensely that we would rather limit their freedom than run the risk of losing them. Yet, until we set them free we cannot fully love, or find out whether they really love us.
On the first Palm Sunday Jesus cried when He saw Jerusalem. Perhaps He cried because people were offering enthusiasm when only commitment was enough. What are we offering? Perhaps He cried because people were offering religion at a time when only holiness was enough. What are we offering?
Or perhaps He cried because people were offering attachment when only love was enough. What are we offering? Perhaps He was crying because of His own love for the city, a love which was so deep that it continued whether or not the people responded. Those who would journey with Jesus will often be tempted to join the crowd, to be caught up in the tide of enthusiasm, to fit into the familiar pattern of religion, but to be sure that they are only attached to His company. And there is nothing wrong with this, except that when the time is crucial those virtues are simply not enough. When the flood tide of change has covered most of the ancient landmarks only commitment calls us to act, only holiness gives direction, and only love gives sufficient strength. Because such qualities are rare, those who journey with Jesus will find many points on the road where they expect triumph, but only find tears.
Rev Cyril Paul
Presbyterian Church in T&T