If Only You Knew

What kind of day is Palm Sunday? A day of celebration, or a day for sober reflection?

If we’d finished today’s reading at verse 40, we’d assume it was celebration and get on with the tickertape parade.

But Luke doesn’t let things end there. There’s more going on here than we first realise, because as Jesus draws near to Jerusalem he begins to weep, and murmurs to himself – “If you only knew today what is needed for peace”.

We puzzled over that in the Monday group. Why was Jesus so upset?

He’d planned this for ages; He’d primed friends in Bethany with a password so they’d let the disciples take away this unridden colt. He rode down into Jerusalem in exactly the way Zechariah had prophesied 500 years earlier, and people knew this mode of arrival was a deliberately provocative claim to be God’s messiah.

At last his cards were on the table. He was bringing things to a head. And the crowd loved it.

So why the tears?

Put simply, I think it’s because they just didn’t understand what he was about, and he knew it.

He wasn’t there primarily to feed their bellies and cure their diseases, though that’s why many followed him.

He wasn’t there to start a holy war against the Romans, though that’s what some were hoping for.

He wasn’t even there to bring down the Pharisees – he wanted to reform his own religion, not destroy it.

No. He was there, riding into Jerusalem, to reconcile broken humanity to God at the cost of his own life. He was coming to be the agent of peace.

But the crowds that day did not want that kind of peace. They thought peace came through bread, or miracles, or entertainment. They thought peace came through revolution; or following the letter of the law.

“If you only knew today what is needed for peace! But now you cannot see it. You did not recognise the time when God came to save you!”.

With that in mind, forgive this little exercise in imagination, which I should preface with the rider “Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely co-incidental”.

As Jesus descended from the Mount of Olives, the sound of the disciples’ cheering faded away and he found himself atop a sand dune looking over the parish of Belhelvie.

Down on the beach, a woman takes her dog and her troubles for a long walk in the sea air.

A young couple stroll hand in hand near the shore, life stretched out before them like the strand at low tide. They are learning that loving someone is a decision and not just a feeling.

Overhead, a helicopter clatters its cargo of workers 300 miles through the sky for another fortnight of work, frustration, tiredness and banter. They are restless ‘til they get there. Restless ‘til they get back.

And Jesus thinks “If you only knew what’s needed for peace”.

In the car park, a young woman helps her father out of the vehicle and into his wheelchair with some effort. They both wonder how they are going to cope.

In the nursing home, anxious relatives meet staff to see if the place is suitable for mum, now that she can’t look after herself properly anymore.

In a small bungalow, a widowed pensioner ignores the TV programme that’s on and stares unseeingly at the chair that used to be occupied.

And Jesus thinks “If you only knew what’s needed for peace”.

At the school, the bell rings and the usual gaggle of mums and the occasional dad wait for the children to start spilling out of the building. Some chat, others study their feet in uneasy solitude. All carry with them the silent stories of their lives.

In the shop a man glances up at the top shelf for a moment before buying a six pack that probably won’t see him through the afternoon. The woman behind him avoids eye-contact as she buys her daily half-bottle and 20 Silk Cut.

In Belhelvie, a young mother gazes at her newborn son and wonders what lies in store for him, and how she can help him find his place in this off-kilter world.

And Jesus thinks “If you only knew what’s needed for peace”.

In Whitecairns, a couple argue about vows that have been broken.

In Blackdog a couple argue about vows that they’ve never taken.

In Bridge of Don a couple go about life under the same roof as strangers, as though their vows meant nothing.

In Balmedie a group of teenagers gather in the park and self-consciously set about the business of hanging around and looking bored.

In Belhelvie a recently retired man pushes his lunch to the side and wonders how to fill the rest of his day.

And Jesus thinks “If you only knew what’s needed for peace”.

In Potterton a woman stares in the mirror and reads in her face the signs of the diagnosis she’s just been given.

In a byre near Belhelvie a farmer worries about weather, fuel prices, sick animals and a persistent ache in his lower back.

In a people carrier on the Dyce road a mother silently counts to ten as her children start fighting for the hundredth time that day.

And Jesus thinks “If you only knew what’s needed for peace”.

In a cottage off a single track road, an elderly lady wonders if she will hear the voice or feel the touch of another human being today.

In a gridlocked car on the A90 a man adds up his overtime in his head and wonders if the extra hours are really worth it.

In bungalow in Balmedie, a couple discuss the worrying trends in their teenage daughter’s behaviour.

In a church where some, none, or all of these folk gather each week,
The Spirit tries to help them recognise
That the time of God’s coming to them is NOW;
This God-filled, God-conscious moment.

God, in Christ, stands before the proud walls of our lives,
Knowing full well the struggles that lie within,
And weeps for our brokenness in all its manifestations.


The peace we crave, the shalom of God,
is found in following this strange king,
going to his death for our sake.

But will we recognise him when he comes?
Will we recognise that now,
This very moment,
is the time of our salvation.