“The Way” (Luke 19:24-46)

 

*The path from the Kidron Valley to the Old City of Jerusalem. (Feb 2022)

Into Jerusalem
In 2022, I had the sacred opportunity to join a pilgrimage to Israel, led by Bishop Devadhar, who is now with the Lord. There was a moment during that journey that still lives in my heart. We were walking down a concrete path in the Kidron Valley, approaching the Old City of Jerusalem. It wasn’t a dusty road, and there were no palm branches or shouting crowds. But I paused for a moment, closed my eyes, and used my imagination to step into the story. I pictured Jesus riding a donkey down this very path. I imagined the people shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!” I imagined the joyful parade—but I also imagined Jesus’ face. Not just smiling, but weeping.

Luke tells us that as Jesus drew near and saw the city, he wept over it. Not long after, he entered the temple and began to cleanse it. Jesus wasn’t just entering Jerusalem—he was walking the road to Calvary. He wasn’t only taking our place—he was setting a pattern for us to follow. The life of a disciple follows this pattern: Rejoicing. Weeping. Cleansing. So now, let us follow in the steps of Jesus.
 
Rejoicing
Jesus deliberately planned his procession into Jerusalem. Luke 9:51 says, “As the time approached when Jesus was to be taken up into heaven, he determined to go to Jerusalem” (CEB). He carefully planned how he would enter the city. He gave two disciples a task, asking them to bring a colt. Why? What is he doing? Why does he want a ride into Jerusalem on a donkey? Jesus had never done anything like this before.

Matthew tells us why: “Now this happened to fulfill what the prophet said, ‘Say to Daughter Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the donkey’s offspring’” (21:4–5). This was a direct quote from Zechariah 9:9. Jesus was intentionally fulfilling prophecy. He was declaring, “Yes, I am the King. I am the Messiah.” But in his first coming, he did not ride in on a white warhorse with a sword. He came humbly. He came not to judge, but to save. Today is the day of salvation.

The people welcomed their king. They laid down their cloaks, waved palm branches, and shouted, “Hosanna! Blessings on the King who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens!” Their hearts were filled with laughter, their mouths with songs of joy. Likewise, when we receive Jesus as our King, our hearts are filled with joy.

Blaise Pascal, a famous scientist and philosopher, once had a powerful encounter with the living Christ. He wrote in his journal that day (November 23, 1654):

FIRE. God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, not of philosophers and scholars. Certitude, heartfelt joy, peace. God of Jesus Christ. God of Jesus Christ. “My God and your God.” . . . Joy, Joy, Joy, tears of joy. . . Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. May I never be separated from him!”

Each of us has a unique story of receiving Christ—some gradual, some radical. But every true conversion shares something in common: a sense of freedom from guilt, a sense of joy, purpose, and the feeling of finally being home. So we join the crowd and cry out in rejoicing: “Hosanna!”

 
Weeping
But then, as Jesus approached Jerusalem, he wept. It seemed the people were finally recognizing and welcoming their King—so why the tears?

Jesus tells us: “If only you knew on this of all days the things that lead to peace” (v. 42). The people had the wrong idea of what peace is and how it comes. They wanted a political king—someone to overthrow Rome. But Jesus came to bring true peace between God and humanity. They expected Jesus to fix their outward problems. But he came to heal their hearts, to restore what was broken at the root: sin and separation from God.

So Jesus wept—not in anger, but in deep sorrow. He wept because they refused the peace he offered. They missed their moment of divine visitation.

Today, we see a tragic parallel in our world. In Switzerland, there’s a phenomenon called “suicide tourism.” People from around the world travel there—not for beauty or healing—but to legally end their lives. They come looking for peace, but they find death. One company Exit International offers a device called the Sarco 3.0, often referred to as the “Tesla of euthanasia.” In just 60 seconds, it replaces oxygen with nitrogen to bring what it calls a “safe, painless, and speedy” death. With features like portability and a detachable coffin, it promises ease and control.[1]

But death is not easy, speedy, or convenient. It demands endurance, faith, and surrender. Jesus saw something similar in Jerusalem. The people were praising with their lips, but their hearts were far from true peace. They were longing for freedom from Rome—not freedom from sin. They were using God for their own glory instead of surrendering to him. And so, Jesus wept.

As disciples, we are called to weep, too—to weep over what is broken in our world, our communities, and even in our own hearts. We are not to bypass pain or rush to comfort. Scripture says, “We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22). Let us learn to love deeply enough to weep.
 
Cleansing
Rejoicing. Weeping. Then, cleansing.

After entering Jerusalem, Jesus went into the temple. He drove out the people selling animals for sacrifice and said, “It is written, ‘My house will be a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a ‘den of robbers’” (v. 46).

In John’s Gospel, when questioned about this, Jesus replied, “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days.” He wasn’t speaking of the physical building. He was speaking of his own body.

How does Jesus cleanse the temple? By destroying His own body. He didn’t pour out judgment on the people—He bore it in himself. When Jesus made a whip, he would later take the whip upon his own back. When he overturned the tables, he would allow his own body to be torn down. By His death and resurrection, Jesus cleanses the temple of our lives and makes our hearts new.

Jesus is our Wounded Healer. In one of the Talmud stories, Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi came upon Elijah the prophet… He asked Elijah, “When will the Messiah come?” Elijah replied, “Go and ask him yourself.” “Where is he?” “Sitting at the gates of the city.” “How shall I know him?” “He is sitting among the poor covered with wounds. The others unbind all their wounds at the same time and then bind them up again. But he unbinds one at a time and binds it up again, saying to himself, ‘Perhaps I shall be needed: if so I must always be ready so as not to delay for a moment.’[2]  In this story the Messiah, the Wounded Healer, is sitting among the poor, binding his wounds one at a time, so he can look after his own pain and suffering, and at the same time, he can be prepared to heal the wounds of others, while the others are preoccupied with their own wounds and problems.

Jesus is that Wounded Healer. He is among the poor and broken, healing others even as he himself suffers. And as Scripture declares, “By his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).

 

Jesus Is Coming

Jesus made his triumphant entry into Jerusalem—rejoicing.
Jesus wept over Jerusalem—weeping over their hardened hearts.
Jesus cleansed the temple—their hearts—by offering up his own body.

This is the path Jesus walked. And this is the pattern we are called to live—until the day he comes again: Rejoicing. Weeping. Cleansing.

Christ has come. Christ will come again. And one day, by God’s grace, we will stand among a multitude no one can count—from China, Philippines, France, USA, Korea, and every nation, tribe, and tongue—cleansed by Christ, with palm branches in our hands, singing praise to the Lamb, “Hosanna in the highest!”

Until then, may we rejoice in the God of our salvation. May we weep over what is broken and what God himself weeps over. May we seek to cleanse, to heal, to restore—beginning with our own hearts. And most of all, may we always be ready to welcome our King, saying: “Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.

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[1] A. Trevor Sutton, “O Death, Where Is Your Pod?” Christianity Today (April 9, 2025),  https://www.christianitytoday.com/2025/04/assisted-suicide-pod-sarco-switzerland-ethics/

[2] Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, (The Crown Publishing Group), 81-2.