Jeremy Duncan: This symbolism, this perusia of Palm Sunday is well, honestly, it's kind of a mess. Right? Crowds choose symbols of sovereignty and national pride drawn from Roman imperial ambition. While at the same time, Jesus sits atop a symbol of peace drawn from the prophets, a statement that his justice might not look like the judgment they want. Today though, we still have one major milestone on our way toward Easter, and that is Palm Sunday, which is an interesting transition in the story.
It is the end of Lent. It's also the beginning of Holy Week. It's a moment of celebration, and it's also a moment of profound confusion and even sadness all mixed into one. Palm Sunday brings us all of this iconic, beautiful imagery, all these kids with palm branches that we saw today, all of this language, but it's also one of the most politically charged Sundays in our calendar. This year Palm Sunday is also part of our exploration of the parables of grace.
And so today, we have both a parade and a parable and a parousia, and that will continue to challenge some of our assumptions about the divine. First though, let's pray, and then today it is the unjust judge and Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. Lord who enters into our lives, often from left field in ways that we are wholly unprepared for, might we notice you today here with us in this moment, in palm crosses, in children's faces, in moments of grace extended between friends and between strangers. In a thousand ways, might we see you leading in quiet confidence, humble on a donkey of peace, amidst a world that clamors for more volume and strength and power. As we return to your parables today, and as we rehearse your entry into Jerusalem this morning, as we approach your final steps toward your cross, would you awaken us to the truth and the beauty of your life, not simply that you came, but how and why and for whom you are willing to give your life away.
Might we be inspired to follow in those steps. In humble service to all that we encounter with grace and peace and confidence that you are God, humble on a donkey, entering into the city with us. In the strong name, the risen Christ we pray. Amen. Today, we have uppercuts, an unjust judge, royal entries, and finally a disreputable peace.
But let's start by reading our parable from Luke chapter 18. This is verse one. It says this, then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. Now, this is our framing for the parable today, at least what Luke thinks this parable is all about. And already, this line sets us off a little different than most of the parables we've seen so far in the series.
The writers of the gospels rarely give us their commentary on Jesus' parables directly. Usually, what they do is they situate Jesus' parables or they put them in a narrative context, but they tend to let Jesus speak for himself. Here at least, we get a bit of framing. This is a story about prayer and about not giving up. Now, I wanna pause there for a second because two weeks ago, we saw a very similar parable.
One that I suggested was not just about persistence in prayer. At least not in that sense that if you are persistent and if you keep praying, you will get what you want. However, two weeks ago, I also talked about the beauty of continuing to pray, relentlessly trusting in the divine even when we don't see the outcomes we want. Here is, I think, an example of that. Now, I have examples in my life.
I make it a practice to pray for peace every day. And not just peace for myself. I've been blessed to have a lot of peace in my life. I'm very grateful for that. But I pray every day for peace across God's creation.
Now, in forty eight years of life, I would wager there has never been a single day of peace across the globe in my lifetime. Will I pray for peace tomorrow? I will. Will I see it? Probably not.
But, I trust to the fact that I pray that way every day, that I don't give up. It does something to shape my imagination for what's possible. It shapes my heart, my posture toward those that I encounter, and so I keep praying for that. So I'm with Luke here. You should always pray and you should not give up, but you also should not expect that this means you will always get the result that you want.
Prayer is not about convincing God to act. It is primarily about shaping us toward God's intent. However, in verse two now, we get to Jesus' story. He said, in a certain town, there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And quick note here, what it actually says here technically is there was a certain judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor cared about people's opinions.
And I get it. That's kind of redundant. A certain judge in a certain town, that's why we streamline it in English. But maybe it's not completely redundant. The phrase, a certain judge in a certain town does this interesting thing to the story.
Right? Like, it makes the story very particular while also being incredibly generic. Imagine I started a story, and I said a long time ago in a galaxy far far away, or once upon a time, or my favorite opening line probably in literature anywhere, Kurt Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse Five. All of this happened, more or less. That's the vibe I get from Jesus here.
Right? Like, take this story seriously, but also don't get caught up on trying to place it on a map. That's not the point. This is a tale to settle into. A certain judge in a certain town.
Okay. What happens in that story? Well, in verse three, we're introduced to our next character. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, grant me justice against my adversary. But for some time, the judge refused.
Finally though, he said to himself, even though I don't fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice so that she won't eventually come and attack me. Now, there's some fun stuff going on here. Right? Like, first of all, I just love that this judge is saying to himself, I'm a bad man. I don't care what people think.
I'm also a little worried about this little old lady attacking me. In fact, the language here often gets softened in our translations. For example, the NRSV, which I generally love, translate this as, I will give her justice so that she won't eventually wear me out. Like, he's annoyed. She's gonna wear him down with all of her badgering.
That might make a little more sense. It also takes the comedic edge off of Jesus' story. So I actually really like that the NIV has stuck to their guns here with she might attack me because this word is hupo paizo. And there are arguments that the semantic range of that word could have included the idea of wearing someone now, wearing them down, possibly even shaming them, but those aren't well documented uses. In fact, they are actually really just speculative extrapolations from the actual meaning of this word, which was originally a boxing term.
Means to strike someone under the eye. It's an uppercut, which means it's why when Paul uses the same word, we usually translate it pummel. And so even if we are gonna go with the NRV's, wording of wear me out, the image would still just be then a little old lady cornering this guy somewhere in a back alley and wearing him out with body shots as he pleads for mercy. In other words, the story here is a big macho judge who doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, and he doesn't wanna get beat up by this widow. And I think that's supposed to be funny.
Right? Like, it's okay to laugh when you listen to Jesus. He's funny sometimes. But it also is kind of insightful as well. Right?
Like, often I think our bravado is a cover for a lot of fear. I know that when I am at my most insecure, that is also usually when I'm at my most combative. And whenever I need to tell myself, I don't care what anyone thinks, that's usually because I've received some kind of criticism that has stung a little too much. In that sense, maybe then I can even find a little compassion for this unjust judge. However, Jesus now explains the story for us.
He says, listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? No. I tell you, he will see that they get justice and quickly.
However, when the son of man comes, will he find this kind of faith on the earth? So interesting story with a even more conspicuous final line. So let's think about this. And I think actually, if we're just talking about the parable, it's a pretty easy one to put together really. There's a specific type of argumentation that was used throughout the ancient world.
It was employed by Jesus, pretty frequently in his teachings, actually. And it was a rhetorical strategy called how much greater than or from the lesser to the greater. And the basic idea was you presented a scenario that struggled to reach its intended conclusion, and then you'd say, well, how much better than all that is God? So, there's an example of this in the sermon on the mount. Jesus says, look, you have a son and he asked for bread.
You're not gonna give him a stone. Or if he asked for a fish, you're not gonna hand him a snake. Even though you yourself are evil, you know how to love your kids. You know how to look after them. Well, how much greater is your father in heaven?
And his point there is not that you're evil. That's just the setup. The point is actually that even though you know you mess things up from time to time, you still know how to love your kids. Well, God is that kind of love unhindered. In fact, part of what Jesus is actually saying with that story is you can use your love for your own kids or your friends or the people around you.
That can be your starting point to understand the inexhaustible love of the divine. Okay. So let's apply that to this story. We've got an unjust judge who doesn't care about a higher power, who doesn't care what people think, and who because of this widow's steady persistence finally gives in and grants her what she needs. And then Jesus says, well, how much greater than that is God?
The basic story here is a contrast between God's glad and gracious responses to us and this judge who needs to be pestered or in this case perhaps even threatened into action. However, it is this final line that gives me pause. Because unlike the unjust judge, God intends to bring justice quickly. And Jesus seems to suggest that when that happens, he won't find faith like this widow in the world, and that pushes me to go back and reread the story. See, I know that Jesus is contrasting God against this unjust judge, but it does seem to be some similarities.
Right? I mean, does God fear God? Well, no. I mean, that's kind of the point of being God. God doesn't answer to a higher power.
Okay. Then, does God care what people think? Well, I mean, in some sense, sure, I hope God cares what we think. But, in the sense of being forced into acting based on popular opinion, I think also we'd have to say, no. In fact, in this story, this widow wants to be justified.
That's the same root word when she asks for justice. And how are we justified? Well, according to Paul in Ephesians two, it is only ever through grace, not from ourselves, purely the gift of God. In other words, you could argue that we are all of us just like this widow justified by the disreputable actions of a judge who doesn't care what anyone thinks and extends grace wherever God seems to want. In fact, we could probably say that in a lot of ways, God is quite like this unjust judge except that one, God is not particularly afraid of little old ladies threatening uppercuts.
And two, God intends to act and quickly. And it's that quickly part. Right? That's the interesting part. That's the part that makes me wonder where Jesus is pointing us with this story.
Because when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth? If I was gonna imagine God as a disreputable judge who cares little for what people think, who extends grace where it is unwarranted, then the climax of that story would have to be holy week. Right? And lo and behold, if you continue reading here in chapter 18, what you'll find is that Jesus continues to teach, then predicts his own death. And then in the very next chapter, we read that after Jesus had said all of this, he went on ahead going up to Jerusalem.
And he's approached Bethphage and Bethany at the hill called the Mount Of Olives. He sent two of his disciples saying to them, go to the village ahead of you. And as you enter it, you'll find a colt tied there, one that no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks, are you doing?
Just say, the Lord needs it. So they brought it to Jesus. And they threw their cloaks on the colt and put Jesus on it. Then he went along and the people came and spread their cloaks on the road before him. And when he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount Of Olives, the whole crowd began joyfully singing, praising God in loud voices for the miracles they had seen.
Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest. Some of the Pharisees in the crowd though, they said to Jesus, teacher, rebuke your disciples. But he said, I tell you, if they kept quiet, even the stones would cry out. And yet, as Jesus approached Jerusalem, as he saw the city, he began to weep over it.
He said, if you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace, but now it seems hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you, encircle you, hem you in on every side. They'll dash you to the ground, even your 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. I tell you justice is coming and quickly, but will the son of man find faith on the earth when he arrives?
The answer here it appears is no. See, we have to understand here is that Jesus' entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday is more than just a walk in the park. This is actually a very carefully constructed political symbol. In Rome, there was something called a perusia. And this was when an emperor or sometimes even a high ranking official would arrive in a city.
And it was more than just an arrival. It was a spectacle, really. Like, the crowds would come out to meet him. The roads would be prepared for them. Festivals and feasts would be hosted in honor of them.
In fact, in first Thessalonians four, when Paul talks about the second coming of Christ and the crowds being caught up in the clouds to meet him, for the first eighteen hundred years of Christianity, that was always understood to be a reference to a Roman parousia, a royal celebration of Christ's return. It actually wasn't until the eighteen hundreds when the idea of a rapture where Christians would literally kind of be sucked up into the sky with Jesus was then misinterpreted back into that passage. Here on Palm Sunday, we're seeing the first arrival of Christ. It's another perusia. And the crowds, well, they play their parts.
Right? Like, they prepare the roads for Jesus and they lay down their cloaks in front of him. They sing and they cheer. Over in John, we find out what they sing. It's nationalistic slogans like Hosanna, which implored the Messiah to save us now.
And what they wave as they cheer for him are palm branches, which were symbols of national sovereignty. This is very much a pattern, in the Perusia of Rome. Jesus, however, is in the midst of it all riding on a colt. And some of the gospel writers will call it a donkey, but the symbolism there is all the same because this was also a very important image in Hebrew thought. See, a colt meant the war is over.
You leave the city on a war horse to go to battle. You return to the city on a colt to say the time for war is over. And so way back in Zechariah nine nine, we get the story about the promised Messiah returning to Jerusalem in peace on a colt. Rejoice greatly daughter Zion. Rejoice daughter Jerusalem.
See your king comes to you righteous and victorious. The victory is won. Lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, on the foal of a donkey. Here, putting this all together, you start to see that this imagery, this symbolism, this perusia of Palm Sunday is, well, honestly, it's kind of a mess. Right?
The crowds choose symbols of sovereignty and national pride drawn from Roman imperial ambition. They chant songs that goad their oppressors into conflict, and they wave palm branches that hint at their ambitions of war. While at the same time, Jesus sits atop a symbol of peace drawn from the prophets, a lowly humble entrance that signals the time for war has passed. A statement that his justice might not look like the judgment they want. And by the way, this is why those religious leaders in the story try to convince Jesus to hush the crowds.
They're not just offended by the adulation, they are concerned about the escalation. And yet Jesus stands in the middle of it all saying, look, I couldn't quiet them if I wanted to. The unjust judge has arrived with peace for those who don't deserve it. But he has not found faith on the earth for this type of grace. Jesus' royal Perusia into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday has him entering the city surrounded by cheering crowds, weeping at how they have misinterpreted his arrival.
And today, Palm Sunday is the celebration of the beginning of Holy Week. A story that will lead to the salvation of all things. That's why we celebrate, but the first Palm Sunday, the first Palm Sunday is the conflicted image of a crowd that thinks Jesus is coming to face down Caesar, to conquer their enemies, to put his boot on the throat of Rome the way that it's been done to them. It is the celebration of all the ways that we think one more war will finally bring us peace. And Jesus weeps because he knows not only will that end badly for everyone, which it does by the way.
The Bar Kokhba revolt leads to the decimation of the Jewish population within a generation of Jesus' death. But he also knows that by the end of the week, this crowd will decide that he is the one who is unjust for refusing to lead their war. The thing is though, if we had been paying attention on our way to Jerusalem, perhaps we would have seen all of this coming. I mean, maybe we would have noticed Jesus calling the Samaritans that we despised good. Or perhaps we would have remembered Jesus telling us about a shepherd who cares nothing about what is reasonable, only what is loving.
Maybe we would have heard him tell us to forgive again and again, and then when we think we've reached the end of ourselves to forgive one more time. We might have listened when he taught us to pray, not as a mechanism to achieve our goals, but only to stand naked and unashamed in our need before the divine. We might have understood when he talked to us about mustard seeds and how his kingdom would look nothing like our imagination of it. Not this strong and majestic cedar that we long for, but instead this scrubby scraggly bush that shows up where it's unexpected, that welcomes those who are unwanted. And maybe, then after all of that, we would have heard a story about an unjust judge.
A judge who answers to no one. A judge who does not care what anyone thinks. But this time, a judge who intends to bring an unexpected judgment end quickly. And maybe we would have realized that oftentimes what we dream about is not what God dreams for us. This this is how our holy week begins, with God offering peace, with us calling it unjust, and demanding we take things into our own hands.
And yet, this holy week is also where God moves to save us anyway. Not at a distance and not at arm's length, but by entering into the city with us, into the very heart of all of our confusion, and sometimes even, let's be honest, our frustration with God. This is why we remember Palm Sunday. Here. It's why we celebrate, not because it is a celebration, because even the moments where we get everything wrong, those become the moments where the unassailable grace of God cuts through, moves through death, and brings us toward resurrection anyway.
Palm Sunday is a mess, but it's also the fact that God moves through that mess toward you and I that God brings us all the way back. So may we know on this day what will bring us peace and even in our lust for war. Might we recognize the time of God's coming to us this holy week. Let's pray. God, for all those moments when we have missed the point of the story And we've come out cheering, hands wave, screaming at the top of our lungs, celebrating stories that have nothing to do with your peace.
Thinking that maybe this time, our violence and our ambition, our lust for power will finally get us to the peace that we want. And we are met with your tears, and your grace, and your peace that cuts through all of it and still invites us all the way back home. God, for those moments when we've wanted you to be something that you're not, we repent and we ask that you might slowly reinvent our imagination. So that we might weep with you over war. That we might long for the peace you invite us toward.
That we might embody that in our friendships and in our interactions in the way that we move through your world so that your kingdom might actually begin to take shape around us. And that maybe one day your grace and peace can be made manifest and tangible in our lives, in our world. And, we continue to pray for peace because that's the path that you walk. And, we trust that by your spirit you invite us to walk it with you through Palm Sunday toward death and then into resurrection. In the strong name of the risen Christ we pray.
Amen. Hey Jeremy here and thanks for listening to our podcast. If you're intrigued by the work that we're doing here at Commons, you can head to our website, commons.church, for more information. You can find us on all of the socials commonschurch. You can subscribe to our YouTube channel where we are posting content regularly for the community.
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