Our return to Capernaum was unlike any we had known before. The miracle worker from Galilee was not open for business as usual. Another Passover Feast came and went during our travels in the north. Jesus’ absence from Jerusalem at the feast, combined with his suspension of any additional mass meetings throughout Galilee, helped lull his enemies into believing he was complying with their wishes while at the same time provided Jesus with the time he needed for his final preparations.
For the next several weeks he spent a great deal of time with us alone in his house or walking with us by the sea. The masses were gone now, but there were still several hundred loyal followers who stayed close to us. Together we listened and learned. We heard and remembered his words to us then, though we did not understand them until after his departure. He was giving us the mental pillars for life in the Spirit. Who is greatest among us? It is the one who serves. Entrance into the kingdom comes only through humbling ourselves and entering as little children. We are the salt of the earth. Our Lord seeks us as a loving shepherd seeks his favorite little lamb lost on the mountainside. How often should we forgive? (I thought perhaps as many as seven times. He thought perhaps seventy times seven would be better.) If your brother offends you, go to him in private. Forgive others as we ourselves have been forgiven by our heavenly Father.
He was redefining our understanding of success and failure. Success in the kingdom of God came not from fighting for myself and my supremacy, it came from fighting for my brothers and sisters, fighting for my relationship with them, fighting for their health and strength and survival. He was teaching us how to act toward one another as he himself was acting toward us. He was teaching us what it means to love.
Following our several weeks of semiseclusion in Galilee, we returned to Perea beyond the Jordan for one final public teaching tour in that area. The people were thrilled at his return and responsive to his ministry beyond even our high expectations. They loved him, they honored him, they listened to him, and they reminded all of us just a little bit of what he could have given to our nation if only our hearts had been open to him.
Then, from Perea, he turned his face one last time toward Jerusalem. The Lamb of God was coming, at the time and place chosen by him, to offer himself as the perfect sacrifice for the sins of the world. He would stage his final entrance in the city of David in such a way as to generate blinding terror in our nation’s leadership. He would drive them to perform their role in his death at a time and place they never would have willingly selected for themselves. Jesus’ offer of himself would be no hushed-up, hidden, convenient removal of an unsubmissive country rebel. His death would be a noisy, bloody, brutal affair, witnessed by thousands, reported in vivid detail throughout the land.
What would it take to create such terror in his enemies? What if they witnessed what appeared to be the entire nation marching alongside the Master as he entered Jerusalem, flinging their clothing on the ground before him, proclaiming him their rightful king? What if his name and his praises flowed from the lips of every pilgrim in the city at the great annual Feast of the Passover?
Jesus’ preparations for his final entrance into the city of David began with the most highly organized and structured teaching tour of his earthly ministry. He began by designating and educating thirty-five teams of two. He equipped all seventy of us with the ability to heal and with authority over the demonic world. He then assigned each team to specific towns and villages throughout the nation, even providing us with the words we were to speak. We were to be his heralds, proclaiming the coming of the king, promising his personal appearance, and presenting the people of Israel with a taste of what he would bring when he came.
It all looked so different to me at the time, of course, seeing only through the eyes of the flesh. I saw the surging wave of Jesus’ popularity in response first to our arrival and then to his. I heard the open calls for his kingship. I felt the resurgence of my own hopes for Jesus’ rise to political power. It all seemed so right, so powerful, so unstoppable.
Even as he placed the final touches on his public popularity, he continued to equip us with the truth. He was going to Jerusalem. He would be killed when he arrived. Following his death he would come back to life. But with such a wave of popularity surrounding us, his words seemed like foolishness. What he was prophesying simply could not happen. It was obvious to all of us. After nearly four years of careful preparation, the nation was finally ours for the taking.
We all went out. We all met with spectacular success. And we all came back filled with jubilant optimism for ourselves and for our future with the Master. Following our return Jesus departed with us almost immediately on his final great tour throughout the nation. I will never forget the words with which Jesus began that final tour. They were words spoken by him before but never with such urgency. They were words chosen to publicly proclaim his heart’s longing for his beloved Israel. “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
And come they did, by the thousands! His public teaching throughout those final weeks captivated our nation as never before. He taught us from the example of the good Samaritan. He showed us how to pray. He blasted the unresponsive multitudes in those cities where his greatest works had been done. He warned us repeatedly of the contagious corruption of the religious spirit within the Pharisees and Sadducees. He promised special recognition for those who confessed him before men and warned us that the message of himself would sometimes bring great divisiveness between people. He told us the story of a second son who squandered his inheritance, of a father who waited eagerly for the son’s return, and of an elder brother who hated the wayward boy’s reconciliation with the father when it came.
With parable after parable and teaching after teaching, he fed us sweet, rich gulps of truth. Some of it was designed to equip us for what would shortly take place in Jerusalem. Some of it prepared us for the life we now live in his Spirit. Some of it even offered us a glimpse into the events surrounding his future return.
Some of it, however, was designed to inflame and infuriate our nation’s religious leadership. When a group of scribes and Pharisees came asking for a sign from heaven, Jesus’ response left no room for misinterpretation: “An evil and adulterous generation craves for a sign; but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah the prophet; for just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the sea monster, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” He then went on to tell them that, at the final judgment, the men of Nineveh and the Queen of the South would stand up and condemn this generation because Nineveh repented in response to Jonah’s preaching, and the Queen of the South came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon; and yet something far greater than Jonah or Solomon was here.
When another Pharisee challenged him for failing to follow the ceremonial cleansing ritual before eating, Jesus responded with a swift public rebuke condemning the Pharisees for their careful cleaning of the outsides of cups and platters while their own hearts were filled with robbery and wickedness. He said they carefully tithed exactly 10 percent of the little plants growing in their gardens yet disregarded justice and the love of God. He then went on to condemn them for their love of public praise and affirmation, warning his listeners that these men were like “concealed tombs,” filled with death and decay.
And so the battle raged on. The lines between the two sides were clearly drawn. There could be no compromise, no reconciliation. With blow after blow Jesus drove his adversaries deeper and deeper into their rage and terror. And all the time his popularity with the masses intensified.
Then came that day—the incredible, amazing, glorious day of Jesus’ return to Jerusalem. Can you understand what it was like for those of us who were there? This was our ultimate victory. This was the fulfillment of all our hopes. Never had I known su
ch unbounded exhilaration. Everything I wanted, everything I longed for, everything I knew I needed for happiness and success and total fulfillment seemed suddenly within my reach. Of course I knew those who held political power hated Jesus. But I knew, too, the power of the multitude surrounding us. And I certainly knew the power of the Master himself. Why, just a few days earlier, had we not all stood outside the tomb of Lazarus, a fellow disciple dead and buried four days earlier, and watched Jesus call his friend back to life? Who could contend with such power, such authority? Who would dare try?
But let me back up a step and walk with you through that day. The Passover Feast was now just six days away. People were pouring into the city by the thousands. It is impossible for me to adequately describe the sense of anticipation surrounding the Master at that point in his ministry. Our final extended sweep throughout the nation, combined with the rumors and testimonies of the thousands whose lives had been touched by Jesus during the past four years, made him the supreme topic of conversation throughout Israel. And the tension was only intensified by the public proclamation of the chief priest’s warning to the people about Jesus, demanding that anyone who knew where he was should report it to him immediately. The entire nation waited, and watched, and wondered if he would come.
We spent the night in Bethany, a village about two miles outside of Jerusalem, at the house of Simon the Leper. We still called him “Simon the Leper” even though several years earlier Jesus’ healing touch made the title untrue. Simon himself loved the title. Indeed, he refused to let it go because it provided him with an ever present reminder of the life he would have led had it not been for the Master.
Lazarus was with us, as were his sisters, Mary and Martha. Word of Jesus’ arrival spread quickly, and a private supper soon turned into a grand public celebration. The house was packed with disciples and pilgrims and neighbors and friends. The food and laughter and festivities went on until late in the night.
The only blot on the evening came when Judas lashed out at Lazarus’s sister, Mary, because she anointed Jesus with a costly, fragrant ointment partway through the evening. He wanted to know why this ointment had not been sold and the money given to the poor. At the time it sounded like a genuine expression of compassion. For the past three years, Judas had been our group treasurer. I don’t know when he first began stealing from the donations entrusted into his care by the faithful followers who supported the Master’s work. None of us were aware of it until after his death. Nor do I know to what degree his lust for money was intensified by his frustration over the Master’s refusal to pursue Judas’s personal program for success.
The awkwardness was soon put to rest, however, by Jesus’ strong words of affirmation and appreciation to Mary for her expression of kindness and love. He did say her anointing was in preparation for his burial, but we all once again tactfully refused to respond to what at the time we saw as yet another reference to an event that could not and would not take place. Within a few minutes the festive atmosphere resumed and, apart from the unnoticed absence of an angry and humiliated Judas, continued for several more hours.
We all got to sleep late but rose with the sun a few hours later. This was the day! We all knew it. This was the day Jesus would enter Jerusalem. We didn’t know what to expect. But we knew it had to be good. Even here in Bethany several hundred Passover pilgrims waited, refusing to complete their journey into the city until they could complete it with the Master.
Following our morning meal we gathered our belongings together and began walking the few remaining miles into Jerusalem. When we moved, so did those waiting for Jesus’ departure. The road was packed with travelers, though, and it wasn’t long before Jesus was lost to sight by all but those of us immediately surrounding him.
We walked for less than an hour, stopping just outside Bethphage, the last small community before entrance into the city. We could now feel the warmth of the morning sun on our faces. Jesus pulled us out of the stream of travelers and gave Andrew and James some private instructions. They left the group, and the rest of us sat down by the side of the road and waited.
Within a few minutes Andrew and James returned leading a donkey, followed by her colt. When I asked Andrew where they got the animals, he told me they were tied in the exact spot the Master told them to look. Jesus wanted no misunderstanding. There was no chance, no luck, no accident in what was about to take place. It had all been planned, prepared beforehand by the Father.
We placed our outer garments on the colt. Then Jesus mounted the makeshift saddle, and we resumed our journey into the city, leading the donkey so that the colt would follow.
I’m still not sure why Jesus’ appearance on that colt caused the people to respond the way they did. Part of it, of course, was simply the fact that he now sat elevated above his fellow travelers, and they could see him. Part of it, too, was the pent-up anticipation of his arrival. But it was more than that. For the first time since King David himself, our nation finally had the hope of a leader who came from our world, who understood our lives, a man who rode on a little donkey. He was not high and lofty and elevated in his royal carriage, surrounded by guards. He was right here with us, next to us, in the same dirt and dust and odors and heat in which we lived. Here at last was a man we could trust, a man we would follow. Here at last was a man worthy of our adoration. In a matter of minutes, people were flinging their clothing in front of the colt and ripping branches from the trees to pave his way. Cries of “Hosanna! Praise him who comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel!” ran through the crowd.
The road between us and the gates of the city was already one solid mass of humanity. But as the cries of Jesus’ approach flew ahead of us, all travel stopped in anticipation of the coming king. What began as a caravan suddenly transformed into a parade. Thousands of Israelites moved to the sides of the road and waited for the arrival of the great man astride his tiny mount. Hands reached out to touch him from all directions as we passed. The shouts and cheers and affirmations of praise thundered around us: “Save us, Son of David!” “Praise him who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Hosanna in the highest!” “Praise to the coming kingdom of our father David!”
The procession came to an abrupt halt when several irate Pharisees blasted through the throng and blocked the pathway before us. For a few seconds they glared up at Jesus, waiting until they could be heard. When the crowd recognized that some sort of confrontation was taking place, silence quickly spread throughout the mob. When the leader of the delegation knew he could be heard, he spoke, rage and indignation oozing from his words. “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
The thought of Jesus receiving and accepting such proclamations was more than they could take. Jesus must be stopped. This mob must be silenced.
The crowd strained to hear Jesus’ response. Would he submit? Would he dismount? Would he apologize? Even now, as I recall the Master’s response, I can feel the thrill of it running through me. “I tell you,” he responded, “if these become silent, the stones will cry out!” Jesus’ thinly veiled reference to Habakkuk’s prophetic promise of what would happen if truth and righteousness were not affirmed within the nation of Israel brought a deafening explosion of jubilation from the multitude. In that same prophetic passage, Habakkuk went on to say, “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.” These Pharisees knew their prophetic writings, as did many of the rest of us. We knew the passage, we knew the promises, and we felt the first mighty wave of that knowledge pouring over us, bathing us in hope while drowning these Pharisees in terror.
The Pharisees crept aside; the procession resumed once again. Andrew led the donkey; I marched by the Master’s side drunk with the exhilaration of what was happening around us. Nothing would stop us now. How could I ever have doubted the Master’s wisdom? How could I have doubted his flawless sense of timing? This was the perfect moment, the appointed time for Jesus’ ultimate victory. It was all I could
do to maintain the facade of reserved, dignified detachment I considered appropriate for the king’s second in command. I longed to grab palm branches in both hands and lunge through the crowd, screaming, “WE WIN! WE WIN! WE WIN!”
The procession was slow, but what did it matter? We were crowning the new king of Israel. If it took all day to do it, what difference did it make? As long as the cheering continued, as long as I held my place by the Master’s side, my flesh wallowed in it all.
At one point Jesus stopped the procession and stared for several minutes in silence at Jerusalem spread out before him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked at the city in which he would soon be crucified. I knew the Master well enough to know he was not attempting to “stage” anything. The tears were real. The pain was real. He hurt for those he loved. At the time, however, I do remember thinking what a great added touch this was to Jesus’ overall image. Here was royalty, humility, and now deep, rich compassion all combined in one perfect person. The words he spoke as he sat there, looking over the city of David, disturbed me, but I took comfort in knowing only a few of us were able to hear them. “If you had known this day the things which make for peace! But now they have been hidden from your eyes. For the days will come upon you when your enemies will throw up a barricade against you, and surround you and hem you in on every side, and they will level you to the ground and your children within you, and they will not leave in you one stone upon another, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation.”
These were not the words of a king riding to his coronation. Indeed, they sounded very much like a prophetic curse placed upon a city that had rejected him. But where was the rejection? Certainly not here, not now. I dismissed his words as misguided pessimism, just as I had dismissed his persistent proclamations of his own approaching death. It was time Jesus faced the truth. Couldn’t he hear the cries of those around him? Didn’t he understand? This crowd was his. This city was his. This nation was his. And soon this Roman Empire would be his as well. Speak what he would, there could be no denying the obvious reality of what was taking place around us. Stand back, world! Here comes your king!
The Fisherman Page 17