A NEW KIND OF KING

'And when He was come nigh, even now at the descent of

the mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the

disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud

voice for all the mighty works that they had seen;

38. Saying, Blessed be the King that cometh in the

name of the Lord: peace in heaven, and glory in the

highest. 38. And some of the Pharisees from among the

multitude said unto Him, Master, rebuke Thy disciples.

40. And He answered and said unto them, I tell you

that, if these should hold their peace, the stones

would immediately cry out. 41. And when He was come

near, He beheld the city, and wept over it, 42. Saying,

If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy

day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now

they are hid from thine eyes. 43. For the days shall

come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench

about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in

on every side, 44. And shall lay thee even with the

ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall

not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou

knewest not the time of thy visitation. 45. And he

went into the temple, and began to cast out them that

sold therein, and them that bought; 46. Saying unto

them, It is written, My house is the house of prayer:

but ye have made it a den of thieves. 47. And He

taught daily in the temple. But the chief priests and

the scribes and the chief of the people sought to

destroy Him, 48. And could not find what they might

do: for all the people were very attentive to hear

Him.'--LUKE xix. 37-48.

'He went on before.' What concentrated determination, and almost

eagerness, impelled His firm and swift steps up the steep, weary

road! Mark tells that the disciples followed, 'amazed'--as they well

might be--at the unusual haste, and strange preoccupation on the

face, set as a flint.

Luke takes no notice of the stay at Bethany and the sweet seclusion

which soothed Jesus there. He dwells only on the assertion of

royalty, which stamped an altogether unique character on the

remaining hours of Christ's life.

I. The narrative brings into prominence Christ's part in originating

the triumphal entry (vs. 30-34). He sent for the colt with the

obvious intention of stimulating the people to just such a

demonstration as followed.

As to the particulars, we need only note that the most obvious

explanation of His knowledge of the circumstances that the

messengers would encounter, is that it was supernatural. Only one

other explanation is possible; namely, that the owners of the animal

were secret disciples, with whom our Lord had arranged to send for

it, and had settled a sign and countersign, by which they would know

His messengers. But that is a less natural explanation.

Note the remarkable blending of dignity and poverty in 'The Lord

hath need of him.' It asserts sovereign authority and absolute

rights, and it confesses need and penury. He is a King, but He has

to borrow even a colt to make His triumphal entry on. Though He was

rich, for our sakes He became poor.

Jesus then deliberately brought about His public entry. He thereby

acts in a way perfectly unlike His whole previous course. And He

stirs up popular feelings at a time when they were specially

excitable by reason of the approaching Passover and its crowds.

Formerly He had avoided the danger which He now seems to court, and

had gone up to the feast 'as it were in secret.' But it was fitting

that once, for the last time, He should assert before the gathered

Israel that He was their King, and should make a last appeal.

Formerly He had sought to avoid attracting the attention of the

rulers; now He knows that the end is near, and deliberately makes

Himself conspicuous, though--or we might say because--He knew that

thereby He precipitated His death.

The nature of His dominion is as plainly taught by the humble pomp

as is its reality. A pauper King, who makes His public entrance into

His city mounted on a borrowed ass, with His followers' clothes for

a saddle, attended by a shouting crowd of poor peasants, for weapons

or banners had but the branches plucked from other people's trees,

was a new kind of king.

We do not need Matthew's quotation of the prophet's vision of the

meek King coming to Zion on an ass, to understand the contrast of

this kingdom with such a dominion as that of Rome, or of such

princes as the Herods. Gentleness and peace, a sway that rests not

on force nor wealth, are shadowed in that rustic procession and the

pathetic poverty of its leader, throned on a borrowed colt, and

attended, not by warriors or dignitaries, but by poor men unarmed,

and saluted, not with the blare of trumpets, but with the shouts of

joyful, though, alas! fickle hearts.

II. We have the humble procession with the shouting disciples and

the background of hostile spies. The disciples eagerly caught at the

meaning of bringing the colt, and threw themselves with alacrity

into what seemed to them preparation for the public assertion of

royalty, for which they had long been impatient. Luke tells us that

they lifted Jesus on to the seat which they hurriedly prepared,

while some spread their garments in the way--the usual homage to a

king:

'Ride on triumphantly; behold, we lay

Our lusts and proud wills in Thy way.'

How different the vision of the future in their minds and His! They

dreamed of a throne; He knew it was a Cross. Round the southern

shoulder of Olivet they came, and, as the long line of the Temple

walls, glittering in the sunshine across the valley, burst on the

view, and their approach could be seen from the city, they broke

into loud acclamations, summoning, as it were, Jerusalem to welcome

its King.

Luke's version of their chant omits the Jewish colouring which it

has in the other Gospels, as was natural, in view of his Gentile

readers. Christ's royalty and divine commission are proclaimed from

a thousand throats, and then up swells the shout of praise, which

echoes the angels' song at Bethlehem, and ascribes to His coming,

power to make peace in heaven with an else alienated world, and thus

to make the divine glory blaze with new splendour even in the

highest heavens.

Their song was wiser than they knew, and touched the deepest,

sweetest mysteries of the unity of the Son with the Father, of

reconciliation by the blood of His Cross, and of the new lustre

accruing to God's name thereby, even in the sight of principalities

and powers in heavenly places. They meant none of these things,

but they were unconscious prophets. Their shouts died away, and

their faith was almost as short-lived. With many of them, it

withered before the branches which they waved.

High-wrought emotion is a poor substitute for steady conviction. But

cool, unemotional recognition of Christ as King is as unnatural. If

our hearts do not glow with loyal love, nor leap up to welcome Him;

if the contemplation of His work and its issues on earth and in

heaven does not make our dumb tongues sing--we have need to ask

ourselves if we believe at all that He is the King and Saviour of

all and of us. There were cool observers there, and they make the

foil to the glad enthusiasm. Note that these Pharisees, mingling in

the crowd, have no title for Jesus but 'Teacher.' He is no king to

them. To those who regard Jesus but as a human teacher, the

acclamations of those to whom He is King and Lord always sound

exaggerated.

People with no depth of religious life hate religious emotion, and

are always seeking to repress it. A very tepid worship is warm

enough for them. Formalists detest genuine feeling. Propriety is

their ideal. No doubt, too, these croakers feared that this tumult

might come to formidable size, and bring down Pilate's heavy hand on

them.

Christ's answer is probably a quoted proverb. It implies His entire

acceptance of the character which the crowd ascribed to Him, His

pleasure in their praises, and, in a wider aspect, His vindication

of outbursts of devout feeling, which shock ecclesiastical martinets

and formalists.

III. We see the sorrowing King plunged in bitter grief in the very

hour of His triumph. Who can venture to speak of that infinitely

pathetic scene? The fair city, smiling across the glen, brings

before His vision the awful contrast of its lying compassed by

armies and in ruins. He hears not the acclamation of the crowd. 'He

wept,' or, rather, 'wailed,'--for the word does not imply tears so

much as cries. That sorrow is a sign of His real manhood, but it is

also a part of His revelation of the very heart of God. The form is

human, the substance divine. The man weeps because God pities.

Christ's sorrow does not hinder His judgments. The woes which wring

His heart will nevertheless be inflicted by Him. Judgment is His

'strange work,' alien from His desires; but it is His work. The eyes

which are as a flame of fire are filled with tears, but their glance

burns up the evil.

Note the yearning in the unfinished sentence, 'If thou hadst known.'

Note the decisive closing of the time of repentance. Note the minute

prophetic details of the siege, which, if ever they were spoken, are

a distinct proof of His all-seeing eye. And from all let us fix in

our hearts the conviction of the pity of the judge, and of the

judgment by the pitying Christ.

IV. We have Christ's exercise of sovereign authority in His Father's

house. Luke gives but a summary in verses 45-48, dwelling mainly on

two points. First he tells of casting out the traders. Two things

are brought out in the compressed narrative--the fact, and the

Lord's vindication of it. As to the former, it was fitting that at

the end of His career, as at the beginning, He should cleanse the

Temple. The two events are significant as His first and last acts.

The second one, as we gather from the other Evangelists, had a

greater severity about it than the first.

The need for a second purifying indicated how sadly transient had

been the effect of the first, and was thus evidence of the depth of

corruption and formalism to which the religion of priests and people

had sunk. Christ had come to cleanse the Temple of the world's

religion, to banish from it mercenaries and self-interested

attendants at the altar, and, in a higher application of the

incident, to clear away all the degradations and uncleannesses which

are associated with worship everywhere but in His Church, and which

are ever seeking, like poisonous air, to find their way in thither

also, through any unguarded chink.

The vindication of the act is in right royal style. The first

cleansing was defended by Him by pointing to the sanctity of 'My

Father's house'; the second, by claiming it as 'My house.' The

rebuke of the hucksters is sterner the second time. The profanation,

once driven out and returning, is deeper; for whereas, in the first

instance, it had made the Temple 'a house of merchandise,' in the

second it turned it into a 'den of robbers.' Thus evil assumes a

darker tint, like old oak, by lapse of time, and swiftly becomes

worse, if rebuked and chastised in vain.

The second part of this summary puts in sharp contrast three

things--Christ's calm courage in continuous teaching in the Temple,

the growing bitter hatred of the authorities, who drew in their train

the men of influence holding no office, and the eager hanging of the

people on His words, which baffled the murderous designs of the

rulers. The same intentional publicity as in the entrance is

obvious. Jesus knew that His hour was come, and willingly presents

Himself a sacrifice. Meekly and boldly He goes on the appointed way.

He sees all the hate working round Him, and lets it work. The day's

task of winning some from impending ruin shall still be done. So

should His servants live, in patient discharge of daily duty, in the

face of death, if need be.

The enemies, who heard His words and found in them only food for

deeper hatred, may warn us of the possibilities of antagonism to Him

that lie in the heart, and of the terrible judgment which they drag

down on their own heads, who hear, unmoved, His daily teaching, and

see, unrepentant, His dying love. The crowd that listened, and, in

less than a week yelled 'Crucify Him,' may teach us to take heed how

we hear, and to beware of evanescent regard for His teaching, which,

if it do not consolidate into resolved and thoroughgoing acceptance

of His work and submission to His rule, will certainly cool into

disregard, and may harden into hate.

Expositions of Holy Scripture: St. Luke · 第 230 / 274 题