Shouting + Silence

“Shouting + Silence”

April 13, 2025 Cobleskill United Methodist Church

Pastor Anna Blinn Cole

Luke 19:29-44

Palm Sunday

Luke 19:29-44

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?” just say this: “The Lord needs it.” ’ So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, ‘Why are you untying the colt?’ They said, ‘The Lord needs it.’ Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,‘Blessed is the king   who comes in the name of the Lord!Peace in heaven,   and glory in the highest heaven!’Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’

41 As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.’

A couple weeks ago our family attended a rally in front of Radez Elementary School to express dissent to budget cuts at the district level that will take away that school’s dedicated librarian, art teacher and change the SEL program.  I mentioned it in my sermon that week and it was also covered in the Times Journal.  But what you couldn’t hear in the black and white of the newspaper print or in the monologue of my sermon was the shouting.  The rally came alive when we started to shout in unison.  What do we want?  Librarians!  When do we want them?  Now!  

Between the shouts of chants and the cheering that erupted from the kids whenever a car went by and honked, the sounds of the day are what made the rally more meaningful.  On our way home, June said: “that was so much fun.”  And I agreed.  It wasn’t fun that we felt like we had to stand against budget cuts, but it was made better doing it together and lifting our voices up.

Some of us have been doing more rallying lately and I think one thing that we’re learning is that in hard times, showing up together and finding something to say in unison in the face of overwhelming uncertainty gives us a low-budget sense of solidarity and crowd-sourced power.  

…

Today we have arrived, my friends, to Palm Sunday.  A day when low-budget rallies of unison shouts of solidarity in the face of overwhelming uncertainty are the name of the game.  

Situated as the last Sunday in Lent and the first day of what we call Holy Week, let’s be honest and name today for what it is.  Palm Sunday is a precarious moment and everyone knows it. As Jesus approaches the city of Jerusalem, he is walking into a situation that can only end badly for him.  He has pushed the boundaries of what is acceptable too far.  He has eaten with too many sinners; healed too many outcasts; spoken words of hope to too many foreigners; and proclaimed God’s love in a way that was too bold and too risky for the status quo to tolerate any more.  He had gone too far and now the political and religious powers wanted him gone and they were waiting for him in Jerusalem.  

Maybe he wanted to run in the opposite direction (I know I would have), but instead he goes straight into the city and walks right toward the suffering he knows lies ahead.  His whole life had been about loving the lost and the least.  And he knows the only way to stand up for this movement is to fearlessly love anyone who uses their power to hurt other people, including those who would hurt him.  

And so, he entered that city in the only way a Prince of Peace possibly could.  Not on the back of a mighty horse.  Not with fanfare or trumpets.  Not surrounded by an army.  Not clad in armor.  But on the back of a young donkey with his feet barely high enough to not drag on the ground.  The ground was covered proudly by a rag tag display of worn-out cloaks.  Jesus brought only his unarmored self into this mighty city of power of strength.  This was a precarious moment and Jesus had no intention of hiding that fact.  

Jesus could have easily put on more of a show.  If he didn’t have an army, he could have at least borrowed a colt and made himself look mightier.  Yet for Jesus, I want to believe there was something important about showing his lack of pretense; something profound about an honest reflection of his own vulnerability in front of the people around him, people he trusted and cared about.  

Jesus’ disciples understood what he was doing.  That this parade of one solitary, unarmed man was a parade in which Jesus was being brutally honest about who he was, how he was vulnerable, and what that meant in a world dominated by power and strength.  And one by one the disciples around this tired man riding a small donkey were moved to realize that what Jesus needed in that moment was not an army at all, it was solidarity.  So they found the best parade accessories they could scrounge together, pulling branches from the trees and taking the coats off their backs to lay down on the ground.  And they summoned their inner strength and they shouted.  

“Blessed is the king   who comes in the name of the Lord!Peace in heaven,   and glory in the highest heaven!’

It was the traditional Hallal psalm used at Passover and this was the beginning of Passover. But when they shouted it together at this rally, before this man riding a donkey, it sounded different.  It had strength.  It had potential.  It had a deeper meaning.  Could this man riding the donkey be our king?  Is it possible that our ruler prides himself on humility and peace rather than shows of strength and intimidation? 

“Blessed is the king   who comes in the name of the Lord!”

All of our four gospels tell this story of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem in one way or another, each picking up on different details.  In Luke’s gospel, though, something unique happens as this shouting is going on.  

The religious leaders who are watching, the ones who have power and prestige in the established religious community, listen to these shouts and they say to Jesus, 

“Order your disciples to stop shouting.”   

What were they afraid of?  Were they afraid of people showing up together and finding something to say in unison in the face of overwhelming uncertainty?  Were they starting to think that a low-budget rally of solidarity would inevitably turn into an unstoppable force of crowd-sourced power?

Jesus replies with one simple sentence: “I tell you, if these [people] were silent, the stones themselves would shout out.”

If these people were silent, the stones themselves would shout out.  

What did he mean by that?  

Stones don’t speak!  Of course, stones don’t speak.  Stones speaking is about as polar opposite as you could be from humans speaking.  They aren’t even alive.  

And yet, the metaphor is more powerful because of its absurdity.  Getting these people to stop putting their hearts and their hopes into their unison cries would be impossible because the feeling and emotion is so deep, even the stones would keep shouting it. In other words, Jesus says, this movement can’t be silenced.  

But who could be silenced?  The Pharisees. In Luke’s Gospel their snide command to Jesus to get his people to stop their shouting was the very last thing we ever hear from the Pharisees.  They have chosen their side and it’s the side of compliance with the Empire. The storyteller Luke silences them.  

There are times for shouting. And there are times for silence so that you can listen.

…

There are a lot of takeaways from today’s scripture.  A lot of places where this story intersects with our own.  Questions come to mind.

When was the last time you lifted your voice in exultant praise? Have you ever joined in shouting and singing with a crowd during a political march or rally? What do you remember about those experiences? What did you feel in your body?  Did you love the way the solidarity made you feel like those children in front of Radez? 

And then also we might ask, when is it harmful to silence others’ voices? When is it appropriate to remain silent ourselves? Can you think of a time in your life when, like the Pharisees, you were appropriately silenced?

…

I want to end with a story about rocks.  Well, one rock. But it had a loud voice. 

It was a little over a year after I had moved to Cobleskill with my family to begin working as a pastor.  I was serving Cobleskill UMC in the role of Associate Pastor and working primarily with the youth here while also working with surrounding United Methodist Churches.  It was a season of transition in these ministries and in this church.  Who were we becoming?  What was the future going to hold for us? 

And one day I came to work here at the church and as I started to open the familiar yellow doors, a little rock with a loud voice caught my attention.  

It was painted with words.  What were the words? 

I looked closer.  

And closer. 

“Dream BIG”

As I got really close to the rock, it seemed to shout at me.  You know, in a hand-painted, low-budget friendly bright yellow moon in a night sky kind of way. 

The message was unexpected.  Rocks don’t shout.  But yet, this one had a message that I needed to hear.  

There will be times in our life we need to be the ones shouting.  Speaking up.  Finding our unison voice.  Announcing the future we want to see.  Lifting up the ruler we want, even if he’s powerful in a different kind of way.  Proclaiming that peace will always be stronger than might.  

There will also be times in our life when we will need to be the ones that are silent. Listening to the words of others.  Reminding ourselves that there is wisdom outside of ourselves.  Keeping our ears open for the shouts of rocks.  Opening our heart to the leading of God in unexpected ways.

Today after our service is over you are invited, as always, to have snacks and fellowship in the hall across the way.  But this week, I invite you to find the rock painting station while you’re back there.  I invite you to paint a word on a rock.  A simple message that a hurting person may need to hear in an uncertain world.  When you’re finished with your rock, I invite you to take it and to place it in the community somewhere.  An unexpected gift in an unexpected place.  A shout of solidarity from a silent rock.  How perfect.  

Here now this call to confession. 

Friends, we are truthtellers in the prayer of confession.

We are honest about the fact that we are works in progress.

We tell the truth of our lives.

We lay it all out before God.

But this moment of prayer isn’t just about us.

In the prayer of confession we also reveal who God is, and our God is merciful.

Our God is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

So let us pray, knowing that God’s truth will always mean grace for us.

Great Creator, forgive me

when I speak before listening,

when I speak over my neighbor,

when I speak with barbed words.

Creator God, forgive me

when I listen to society,

when I listen to my friends,

when I listen to the news,

but I do not listen to you.

Creator God, forgive me

when I shout out, but do not shout your name,

when I listen, but do not listen for your voice.

Forgive me.

Create in me a heart like yours.

Amen.

Grace and Peace,

Pastor Anna