Light for the Darkness: Palm Sunday Sermon on Matthew 4:12-17; 21:1-15

I reckon it was a long walk back. If you were with us any of the last few Sundays, you remember that we were talking about how, after Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist, the Holy Spirit took Jesus into the desert where, after forty days and forty nights of fasting, he was tempted by the devil (Matthew 4:1-10). And then, at his command, the devil left him, and ministering angels came to restore Jesus' strength (Matthew 4:11). But what happened next? A long, long walk. For days and days. From the desert, he walked back toward the place where John had been baptizing. But when he got there, no John! And he heard that, while he was in the desert those forty days, John had been arrested by Herod Antipas, who was in charge of both Galilee and Perea where John was baptizing on the east bank of the Jordan. So we're told that “when [Jesus] heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee” (Matthew 4:12). And from the place where he was baptized up to Galilee, to Nazareth, is about eighty-one miles. On foot. That's going to take a while.

But he has to go. See, when Jesus hears that John's been arrested by Antipas, he knows what else the devil has been up to in those forty days and forty nights. The devil's been spreading darkness. The devil's been infecting even Galilee's political ruler, making him grow more and more into his father Herod's uncouth image. So Jesus hurries back to Galilee in as few days as he can, so he can reach Nazareth. His hometown. The little place he grew up. Just a couple hundred people, clustered in a few dozen houses. And one he's always called his. He's been the man of the house since Joseph passed away. But now he has to go back to Mary, to his brothers and his sisters – and Jesus has to have an awkward conversation with them. Jesus has to tell them he's moving out of the village where he's lived most all his life. That he's giving up the carpentry business he inherited from Joseph to support the family. That he's heading to the bigger village of Capernaum, out by the shores of the Sea of Galilee, so that he can preach about the end-times. Yeah, how well do you think that conversation went over?

But off he went. We read: “Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali” (Matthew 4:13). Nazareth was in the old tribal lands of Zebulun, tucked away in rural obscurity; Capernaum, in the old tribal lands of Naphtali, was about a three-days' walk from there. The trek would've taken Jesus through Cana to the edge of the lake, then clockwise around it, away from Tiberias where Antipas ruled. Another solid trip – three days on foot. I wonder what Jesus did that first night after he reached Capernaum. Did he look for a place to stay? Did he sleep out in the open? “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Matthew 8:20).

Why did he go there? Why did he go back to Galilee, closer and closer to Antipas' center of power after John was thrown into prison? Because Jesus was Light. “I am the Light of the World,” he said. “Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). And the Light needed to go where it was darkest – to Capernaum, in Galilee but not far from Gaulanitis or the Decapolis. The Light needed to go where it was darkest so he could make the most of his brightness. That's what Isaiah had said.

Isaiah spoke in a time when the people of Zebulun and Naphtali were the most exposed to foreign influence – tempting them constantly with idolatry and compromise – and at risk of invasion. And in that constant struggle, they became so afraid that they fell into sin where “they have no dawn” (Isaiah 8:20). Isaiah said that in times of hardship, “they will be enraged and speak contemptuously against their king and their God” (Isaiah 8:21); that the whole land will be “distress and darkness” (Isaiah 8:22). But Isaiah said the day would come when the “contempt” of Zebulun and Naphtali would be no more – when God would glorify Galilee by shining his light there (Isaiah 9:1). “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy” (Isaiah 9:2-3). It would happen when a true Son of David came to be the Light, to be the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

And Matthew says that's what sent Jesus back to Galilee, that's what took him to Capernaum, that's what started his ministry of preaching from city to city, town to town, village to village, hill to hill (Matthew 4:14-16). “From that time, Jesus began to preach, saying, 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!'” (Matthew 4:17). Jesus continued John the Baptist's message (Matthew 3:2) – only he'd come to put it into action, announcing good news and casting out sickness and injustice and trauma and weakness and demons, and teaching that a new light was dawning (Matthew 4:23-24). For to say that “the kingdom of heaven is at hand” was to say that “a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:16-17).

Now, fast-forward three years. Jesus has left Galilee behind. His time is drawing near. He's approaching the big city, Jerusalem, from the Mount of Olives (Matthew 21:1-7). There he is, riding down its slopes toward the city gates – riding on the colt of a donkey, with his disciples' cloaks for padding. But all around are pilgrims, streaming to the city for the upcoming Passover celebration. Only they can see this is no ordinary Passover. Jesus is a prophet, come at last to teach a fresh word from God (Matthew 21:11). Jesus is “the Son of David,” the one given David's throne to rule, the Messiah who “comes in the name of the Lord” (Matthew 21:9). So the crowds hurry to lay branches from trees across the road (Matthew 21:8), they wave palm branches in the air (John 8:13). And the crowd starts to sing: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” (Matthew 21:9). And it causes a great stir in the city (Matthew 21:10).

Where did the crowds get the words they were singing? From a classic pilgrim song – Psalm 118. “Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the LORD. This is the gate of the LORD; the righteous shall enter through it. I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation. The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is the LORD's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Hosanna, we pray, O LORD! O LORD, we pray, give us success! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD! We bless you from the house of the LORD. The LORD is God, and he has made his light to shine upon us. Bind the festal sacrifice with cords, up to the horns of the altar! You are my God, and I will give thanks to you; you are my God, I will extol you. Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good: his love endures forever” (Psalm 118:19-29).

This crowd of pilgrims has sung the song, hummed its notes, mumbled its words, many times. But now they sing loud, because they see it unfolding before their eyes. They see the Righteous One coming to enter the gate of the LORD. They see that the LORD their God has answered them, come down to be their salvation. They see the Stone whom Israelite society's builders rejected is becoming the Cornerstone of a New Temple. They see that the LORD's Day is dawning, bringing the good news of joy. The time has come when their hosannas – their prayers for salvation now – are being answered. They see the King who comes in the name of the LORD, journeying into the temple, the House of the LORD. They know in a new way now that the LORD is God, and that God has caused his Light to shine upon them. Once again... “a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:16). When the crowds sing that song, they confess they're in need of salvation – they need to be rescued from the darkness. When the crowds sing that song, they celebrate that, in a world of darkness, God's Light has broken through. And now they see it, they see the Light, they see him. They see Jesus shining for them. And they are so excited for all their hopes and dreams to come true in him. That was the excitement of Palm Sunday.

But when Jesus reaches the House of the LORD, from which he was supposed to be blessed, he doesn't find it to be a refuge for the righteous. He doesn't like what he sees at all. He comes to the temple and finds the house of light to be dark. The temple itself, the place where God was supposed to live, is plunged in moral darkness and blindness and confusion. It's been turned into a place of crime and deceit, a place of profit and exclusion. The courts are designed to keep certain classes of people further away than God ever designed them to be. The trade of the animal-sellers and coin-exchangers is geared toward taking advantage of the poor who come to bring their hearts of devotion to God. Their thievery crowds out the real meaning of the temple as a house of prayer where even foreigners can be drawn to the light and encounter God. But instead, like swarms of locusts blotting out the sun, the layer upon layer of corruption is a thick cloud of darkness filling the temple and choking its air.

So when “Jesus entered the temple” and saw all this darkness, he “drove out all who sold and bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. He said to them, 'It is written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer' – but you make it a den of robbers!” (Matthew 21:12-13). What does the Light do when it encounters darkness in God's house? The Light overturns the dark! The Light casts out the darkness, wrecks it, throws it to the curb!

Now, only then – after they've heard all the commotion, after they've caught wind of Jesus' protest, after they've learned what kind of stand he'll take – only then, after all that, do we read that in those temple courts, people with various disabilities begin showing up. It wasn't a safe place for them before. But now a space for them has been cleared. Now they know that Jesus is champion of what's right. Jesus does not side with the darkness. Jesus will not tolerate the choking cloud. Jesus will not abide the interminable shadow. Jesus will shine, Jesus will shine. And so “the blind and the lame came to him in the temple” (Matthew 21:14a).

To the blind, everything was darkness. Wherever they turned their faces, what loomed before them? Darkness. What filled their heads? Darkness. What consumed their eyes? Darkness. The darkness they carried around to any place they went. There was no escaping the darkness. Even once Jesus had cleared the darkness from the temple, even once Jesus had acted in society, still they carried darkness with them. Every night. Every day. In their very faces, their very heads. But they had a thought. If Jesus is the Light who casts out the darkness out there, isn't it worth asking if he could cast out the darkness in here? And so, leaning on canes or on the arms of friends, they make their way toward Jesus. There in the temple courts, making their way tenderly over scattered coins, over upset baskets and cages, with loose pigeons and sheep and oxen running amok; there in the temple courts, trying not to bang their shins into or trip over one of the upset tables – there they make their way to Jesus in the heart of the chaos, in the eye of the storm, in the uncomfortable silence after the rage of the Son of David thundering judgment against the corrupt. And there they beg the Light to be their hosanna from the darkness. They trust him as their last and best hope, turn over the fate of their eyes, their bodies, their souls to this Man who brightens all he touches and enlightens all to whom he speaks. “And he healed them” (Matthew 21:14b).

He was the Light of a dark land when he went back to Galilee and began to preach the gospel of the kingdom (Matthew 4:12-17). He was the Light of the pilgrims' hope as they went down to the city, hailing him with palm branches, singing the song of those marching to redemption (Psalm 118:27; Matthew 21:8-11). He was the Light of a darkened temple cluttered with injustice and false order (Matthew 21:12-13). And he was the Light of men and women who crept to him needy and blind and walked away seeing his face in the daylight (Matthew 21:14). He was the Light of the World (John 8:12), saying, “I have come into the world as Light, so that whoever believes in me” – whoever trusts Jesus, leans on Jesus, sticks close to Jesus, depends on Jesus – “may not remain in darkness..., for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world” (John 12:46-47).

As for us, we know we so often let ourselves slip into darkness, blindness, confusion. We shroud our lives in the choking cloud, we stumble under the shadow, we feel hemmed in by the demons of night at midday. But we need have no fear! Jesus is the Light that his Father made to shine on us in a place of refuge. Jesus is the Light who overturns the darkness of our ignorance, the darkness of our perplexity, the darkness of evil, the darkness of despair, the darkness of desolation, the darkness even of death and grave. Jesus is the Light who restores our clarity and lets us walk in life abundant. Because when the pilgrim song sang to “bind the festal sacrifice” (Psalm 118:27), he surrendered himself to be that sacrifice. The Light of the World was offered on the altar of the cross, so that unending dawn could shine down when the Sun of Righteousness rose forever to pierce the night. All so the Light could make his triumphal entry, not merely into Galilee, not merely into Jerusalem, not merely into the temple courts, but into my heart and your heart, my soul and your soul, my life and your life!

And for all that, some people were angry with Jesus for bringing light back to dark places. Can you believe it? “They still did not believe in him,” for the eyes of their heart were made blind (John 12:37-40). “When the chief priests and the scribes saw the wonderful things he did..., they were indignant” (Matthew 21:15). But the part that really got to them? They saw “children crying out in the temple, 'Hosanna to the Son of David!'” (Matthew 21:15). What really scared the priests and scribes was that children were singing to Jesus for salvation. Children were singing for Jesus to be their Light. Children were singing for Jesus to keep away the dark. Children had sight to see who he was, and to call on him as their Savior. And that was what most scared the darkness: When children sing to Jesus for their salvation, sing for the Light to keep away the dark. Highest hosannas to the Light of the World! Repent, for the kingdom of heaven's in reach! Open your eyes and see the good news! Oh give thanks to the Lord Jesus, for he is good: his love endures forever and ever, amen!