“Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!  Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!  Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9).  So, the ancient prophecy.  John remembers the song a bit differently: “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion” (Jn 12:15).  Rejoice, do not be afraid.  This is a day of celebration, of victory, of hope fulfilled.  It may be hard not to let the day be colored by what we know is coming, just as Jesus knows it’s coming, yet this truly is a day of joy.  God is at work, right here, right now.  God’s Word is being fulfilled in our presence.

You may have heard before, and I will repeat today, that the reason Jesus enters on a donkey rather than a horse is that the horse was an animal of war; the donkey is an animal of peace.  The king comes in peace.  I wonder how many of those in that crowd were expecting war, expecting Messiah, the king who would come, to bring war, battle, to drive out the wicked, the pagans, those polluting the land, polluting the Temple.  Jesus does cleanse the Temple, and he comes in peace.

The people may have regarded this as a coronation procession—high pageantry.  The disciples laid their outer garments over the back of the donkey.  People along the way laid down their outer garments on the road before him.  Mark, Matthew, and John all remember and record the branches the people also spread over the way.  They wish to honor him, exalt him, praising the anointed king.  A few may have recalled a moment from their ancient history, when one of the northern kings, Jehu, was honored in a similar way.  Jehu told his companions what the prophet had just told him: “‘This is just what he said to me: ‘Thus says the Lord, I anoint you king over Israel.’’  Then hurriedly they all took their cloaks and spread them for him on the bare steps; and they blew the trumpet, and proclaimed, ‘Jehu is king’” (2 Kings 9:12-13).

On the descent into Jerusalem, the crowd, many of whom had followed Jesus on his travels, were thanking and praising God.  Those in Jerusalem, keeping watch along its walls or near its gates on that eastern side, would have seen this large procession.  They wondered what it was all about.  It wouldn’t have taken long to perceive that it was a peaceful, a happy procession: something good was happening.  Of those in the procession, some had seen one act of power or another.  Others would have heard, heard what Jesus had said, had been saying, or heard what others were saying about Jesus.  Some would have been fully convinced, others were willing to wait and see, others just liked being part of a big, happy crowd, whatever was going on.

They sing from Psalm 118: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Ps 118:26).  There’s no mistaking what they are saying.  This king could only be the long-expected son of David, the strong deliverer.  The crowds knew just what this strong deliverer had come to deliver them from: slavery, subjugation to the Romans, those idol-worshiping foreigners.  Just as God had delivered His people in the times of Moses, again after seventy years of exile in Babylon, and again in the days of Judas Maccabeus, so, too, God was at work now, present now, and He would deliver through this son of David, this Messiah.

It was beautiful and right that God would bring this salvation to His people at the Passover: that ancient observance, that solemn celebration of God’s promise and God’s power.  God meant for His people to be free, and free they would be.  I don’t think it occurred to them, in that moment (why would it have?) to recall that Israel already had a long history of freedom: the freedom they chose from observing the commandments of their God, the freedom they chose to worship anything and everything other than God.  The freedom that brought slavery upon them.  The freedom that was slavery.

God had seen, God had known from the beginning, what a talent His creatures would have for making freedom into slavery.  We choose ourselves into chains, into darkness, into strife and violence against our fellow human beings.  God looked over the earth in divine pity, seeing how His creatures were continually waging war against Him.

God permitted His people freedom, and they took His blessing and turned away from God.  Yet they still longed for God; every so often they would come to their senses, awake from their stupor of sin, just long enough to see themselves as God saw them, in their blasphemies and filth, and by the grace God still gave them, they cried out to God in wide-eyed dismay.  They cried out for forgiveness, blessing, peace once more.  And God granted their prayer, because forgiveness, blessing, and peace were what God intended for His people all along.

At the right time He sent the one who would bring peace.  Those people were singing of this king, this son of David, this Messiah: “Peace in heaven and glory to God!” (Lk 19:38).  The night of Jesus’ birth, angels appeared to shepherds, singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased!” (Lk 2:14).  Peace on earth, yes, please!  Let it begin with me, and you, and you, and all of us gathered here today.  True peace glorifies God.  True peace is shalom: that beautiful, deep sense of well-being: it is well with my soul.  This is a gift of God, the peace that passes all understanding.  And, that day, the people in the crowd misquoted the angels.  The angels sang of peace on earth; that day, in that festive coronation procession for the anointed of the Lord, the people were singing of peace in heaven.

Had there been war in heaven?  Strife and discord?  No.  The people, without realizing it, were singing the angels’ song.  By the Spirit, by grace, the people, without knowing why, were singing the true song: the peace this king was bringing, the peace this king would make, was not peace on earth, or peace among men—though these would come, too, by his power.  The peace this king brings is peace in heaven.  Jesus makes peace for us with God.  In Jesus, we are at peace with God; God is at peace with us.

Oh beloved!  What does this mean for those not in Christ?  What does this mean for those who reject God?  They are not at peace with God, and God is not at peace with them.  The Bible word for that state is wrath.  Even Jesus, gentle, loving, peaceable Jesus, spoke with righteous anger about the end of those who would not accept or recieve peace with God (see Lk 20:9-18, as one example).  Why do we need Jesus?  How shall I count the ways?  Because, through him, we have peace with God.  Of all the blessings God gives, peace with God is the best, and God gives His best, to obtain that peace.

Some of the Pharisees insist that Jesus rebuke these people acclaiming him as the Messiah.  The Pharisees weren’t dunces; they longed for Messiah, too.  Only many of them—not all, but many—could not believe that this simple fellow with the northern accent could be him.  Is this what a Messiah looks like?  Surely the Messiah would come from Jerusalem, would have been educated by the very best teachers, and would come from among the Pharisees.

In reply, Jesus, in deep joy and deep sorrow, says to them, “If they were silent, the stones themselves would cry out” (19:40).  I’ve wondered about that.  Jerusalem is a rocky place.  There are stones everywhere, all over the ground.  What was Jesus saying?  What did he mean?  Perhaps that every scattered stone, every dead thing, would find its voice in praise to God.  Then again, before them were the walls of Jerusalem, the city God had chosen for His name to dwell there.  Perhaps the walls of the city, the city of David, would sing, to see David’s son come at long last.  Then again, in Jerusalem was the Temple.  In Jesus’ day, that temple was a magnificent building.  It was meant to make an impression, to speak a message.  If the foundations had been inadequate, weak, the only message that splendid structure would have spoken would have been the foolishness and vanity of man.  But the foundations were strong: those stones were laid in the time of Solomon, by a people who lived in devotion to God, in awe of God, in deepest reverence of God; they were a people who, with David, lived loving God.

As I think about it today, the stones Jesus means may have been the stones of the foundation of that Temple, singing after a thousand years, rejoicing that God had come to earth, come to man, come to His people, come to His Temple, to bring peace, to give peace, to make peace, peace between God and His erring, errant creatures.  Christ is our peace in heaven.  Christ is our peace with God.

Ride on!  Ride on in majesty!  In lowly pomp ride on to die; Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain, Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign.