Palm Sunday 1920, Part 4: The Procession

by Ronald R Johnson

A passage from “Art Thou a King, Then?” a sermon preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on March 28, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

[This is a continuation of Lloyd Douglas’s Palm Sunday sermon at the University of Michigan (the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor), preached on March 28, 1920, entitled, “Art Thou a King, Then?” (It can be found in “Sermons [5],” Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

Christ is part of a caravan of pilgrims making their way into Jerusalem for Passover Week. They are singing the songs of deliverance. Douglas says:]

“There was just a slim chance that Israel, feverishly anxious to find adequate leadership, would listen to [Christ’s] message. If ever they were in a mood to hear an interpretation of God’s will, one would think that time was now.

“If he could only lead them to see that their Messianic hope must reside, at last, in a new social order, in a new spiritual commonwealth.

“It was worth trying.

“It would probably be unsuccessful, but it was worth trying. He resolved to submit himself to the outward tests of the Messiah, as picturesquely foretold by the prophets.

“His disciples were ordered to go find a colt, the foal of an ass. They spread their garments on the beast, in the presence of the curious throng of wayfarers. The word was passed along that the Young Prophet of Nazareth who was reputed to have healed the sick, whose words were quoted on every hand as words of authority, was about to ride into Jerusalem as the Messiah.

“Messengers rushed to Jerusalem and spread the tidings.

“Jesus rode slowly at the head of a vast concourse of people. Jerusalem poured through the city gates and hurried out to meet him.

“It is said that the road which he took still exists, winding around the shoulder of Olivet amid groves of figs and palms until, suddenly, across a wide ravine, Jerusalem rises like a city painted on the clouds.

“The crowd rifled the trees of their foliage and strewed the branches along the road for the advancing king. The cries of ‘Hosanna!’ filled the air. The multitude grew hysterical with joy. Never was there a scene of such enthusiasm; never a crowd so infatuated with a sublime idea.

“To those tumultuous throngs, it seemed that the knell of Rome had sounded. The long and often disappointed dream of Jewish nationality was coming true! The golden age had dawned — for, at last, a Jewish king was riding to his capital in triumph.

“Amid this tumult of delight which swept away all sober sense, no one was any longer capable of seeing things in clear and lucid outline; all swam through a dazzling mist; all caught the glamor of imagination.

“And least of all did the multitude perceive the growing sadness on the face of Jesus.

“At the distance of about a mile and a half from Bethany, the road abruptly bends to the right, a narrow plateau of rock is reached, and with a startling suddenness the whole city is revealed. Nowhere perhaps in all the world is there to be attained a view of a metropolis so complete in itself or so dramatic in the suddenness of its revelation.

“It was here that the procession halted.

“There stood the temple, filling every corner of the area with its multiplied and splendid colonnades, with its superb and lofty edifices, which crowded to the very edge of the abyss and rose from it like a glittering apparition.

“The whole city was planned upon a scale of almost equal grandeur. On every hand, mansions of marble rose out of gardens of exquisite verdure. Terrace upon terrace, the city climbed. In the northwest it was crowned by the porticoes of Herod’s palace; a vast aqueduct spanned the valley; and from the Temple to the upper city stretched a stately bridge; while the walls themselves, built of massive masonry and apparently impregnable, suggested a city ‘half as old as Time.’

“It was thus that these ecstatic pilgrims thought of the sacred city. Jerusalem — beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth — would endure forever, when Rome had vanished.

“If Jehovah had humbled her by permitting Roman occupation, it was only for a day — and the hour had now struck. The King was coming to his own. How delightful it was to shout ‘Our King’!

“But these were vain hopes and fond illusions, not shared by him whom they acclaimed. Where all was hope and pride and triumph, he alone was not elated. He alone saw the city with the prophet’s brooding eye; and as the procession halted on this rock plateau from which the whole vast panorama lay unfolded, an utter sadness fell upon his heart.

“And he wept.

“Jerusalem had rejected the things that might have made for her peace. It was too late to avert the disaster.

“To the consternation of his followers, Jesus wept what must have seemed to them tears of weakness in the very hour when courage was most needed to affirm of himself what they affirmed of him, that he was a king.

“Now, I think that anybody could tell the rest of this story even if he had never heard it. Need it be said that the crowd left off chanting and fell into little groups to discuss the situation in bewilderment? Need it be said that they threw away their palm branches and retired from him?

“He rode on into Jerusalem and saw it through. But it was a day of great disappointment — both for him and Jerusalem.

“They were not ready for an ideal king who believed in the social commonwealth of souls. They wanted a king who could give them political freedom — and, at length, political power.”

[To be continued in my next post…]

Palm Sunday 1920, Part 3: Pilgrims

by Ronald R Johnson

This is a continuation of Lloyd Douglas’s Palm Sunday sermon at the University of Michigan (the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor), preached on March 28, 1920, entitled, “Art Thou a King, Then?” (It can be found in “Sermons [5],” Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

A passage from “Art Thou a King, Then?” a sermon preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on March 28, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

“Early in the fourth year of his ministry, Jesus became conscious that the hostility of the priests would shortly produce a crisis. Their warnings had become more and more dramatic, and it was evident that another visit to Jerusalem would be fatal.

“Nevertheless, he resolved to go back to Jerusalem. He arrived in the vicinity of the Holy City a few days before the annual feast of the Passover and sojourned in the little village of Bethany among friends.

“I have already reminded you of the extraordinary excitement which agitated the whole of Palestine during the period of these Passover celebrations. On such occasions, the patriotic and religious ardor of the Jews ran like a flame throughout the land.

“There was no populous city of the East, no remote hamlet, which did not furnish its contingent to what was practically a concentration of the Israelitish forces. These innumerable bands of pilgrims marched upon Jerusalem from every quarter, singing the ancient psalms of Israel — encouraging in one another a joyous ecstasy, full of eager, albeit long-deferred, hope of some great national deliverance to which the past history of their race, and especially the history of the Passover itself, gave vigorous sanction. It has been said that not fewer than a million non-resident Jews gathered in Jerusalem on this occasion.

“Camps sprang up outside the city walls, and contiguous villages like Bethany were crowded to overflowing. Every road leading to the city was thronged with pilgrims who daily increased in numbers as the solemn fate drew near.

“Much has been said, from time to time, about the loneliness of leadership. It is true that every great man who has offered the human race some new apprehension of truth has led a lonely life, for all that he was surrounded constantly with crowds of people.

“And there is nothing more touching, I think, than the sight of a great leader repudiating his natural desire for intimate friendships and his innate longing to be in and of the common life of his generation — in order to accomplish his mission.

“St. Paul hinted at this when he said to the young Timothy, whom he had just appointed an ambassador of the Christian religion at a court where the new spiritual cultus was in high disfavor:

“‘No man that would be a soldier dare entangle himself in the affairs of civilian life.

“‘May the Lord give thee understanding of this. Study to show thyself approved of God.’

“Doubtless there was a strong tug at the heart of Jesus to join these singing pilgrims and enter with them into the joy of this great family reunion of his own people. Jerusalem meant much to him. The fascinatingly interesting history of his nation was very dear to him.

“If he could only have put aside for a few days the responsibility of his task and have gone to the feast as a pilgrim, it would have been a delight.

“History furnishes many a tale of young kings who have left their thrones to wander about the country incognito and live for a little time like the common people.

“I suppose there is no more cruel bondage to be had than the slavery connoted by a crown. And the loneliest people in all creation are kings.

“Jesus must have felt strangely apart from everything that the people considered to be worthwhile on the morning of the day which we are now celebrating.

“There they marched, chanting the old petition for a deliverer, a Messiah, who would rule Thy people Israel.

“Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, thy king cometh, riding upon a colt. Rejoice, O Jerusalem. Break forth into joy. Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.’

“Jesus contemplated that situation with increasing interest, and a new idea grappled with him. Would it be possible?

“There was just a slim chance that Israel, feverishly anxious to find adequate leadership, would listen to his message. If ever they were in a mood to hear an interpretation of God’s will, one would think that time was now.”

[To be continued in my next post…]

Palm Sunday 1920, Part 2: Not Political

by Ronald R Johnson

[This is a continuation of Lloyd Douglas’s Palm Sunday sermon at the University of Michigan (the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor), preached on March 28, 1920, entitled, “Art Thou a King, Then?” (It can be found in “Sermons [5],” Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)]

A passage from “Art Thou a King, Then?” a sermon preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on March 28, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

“‘Wanted: a Messiah,’ then! That was the cry of Israel on the sunny Sunday morning which we commemorate as the Day of Palms.

“Now, having looked at the demand, let us examine the supply.

“Jesus of Nazareth was not a man to whom the Jewish public would instinctively turn for Messianic leadership. And very few had ever thought of him in this connection. His hold upon the masses was irresistible and they followed him about from place to place as sheep follow a shepherd.

“But he had never made any attempt to organize them or influence them to a mass movement. He had strong words for the priests, whom he called ‘blind leaders of the blind,’ and he dealt unsparingly with the whole system of religious profiteering in vogue at the temple, but he had never tried to equip any of the machinery of overthrow, even for these unscrupulous custodians of the nation’s religion.

“Many times they sounded his political views, without satisfactory results. Fully understanding the motives with which they asked such questions, Jesus practiced canny evasions of the subject by employing the case in hand as an illustration to point a moral in spiritual life.

“They said: ‘Is it just that we should be required to pay a per capita tax to the Roman government?’

“He rejoined: ‘How much is it?’

“They replied: ‘One denarius.’

“‘Let me see one,’ he demanded.

“Somebody in the crowd passed him a coin, and while all stood waiting, breathlessly, for a sensation, he turned the piece of money over and over in his palm and inquired: ‘It bears the image of a face. Whose face is it?’

“‘Caesar’s,’ they answered in concert and in a tone that encouraged him to express himself concerning that person.

“‘And on the other side is a signature. Whose is that?’

“‘Caesar’s,’ they shouted, now making no attempt to temper their indignation.

“‘It belongs to Caesar, then?’

“Nobody was able to deny the ownership if a piece of property that had a man’s picture on one side and his signature on the other. If it is Caesar’s…

“‘Give it back to Caesar!’ said Jesus. ‘And give back to God that which is His.’

“If one studies this episode critically, one is forced to admit that Jesus decision in regard to the justness of the tax was quite beside the point.

“Strictly speaking, the denarius did not belong to the man whose face and hand were stamped upon it, but to the possessor — and its value was not intrinsic but legally ascribed to it. But it was an easy and harmless way out of a trying situation in which almost any serious answer would have been misconstrued.

“Again, when the priests were anxious to convict him of the usurpation of power, they asked him, upon the conclusion of an address, ‘Who gave you the authority to utter these words?’

“And he promised to tell them, provided they would first answer him a question. They consented readily, for the priests were prepared to meet any and all queries.

“‘The baptismal ceremony administered by John, the Nazarite — was it of heaven, or of men?’

“It just happened that there were scores of people standing about, listening, who had accepted the baptismal rite at the hands of John and believed it to be a divine conferment of grace.

“And the priests reasoned thus with themselves: ‘If we shall say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say, ‘Why, then, did ye not believe in him?’ And if we say ‘Of men,’ — well, there are the people.’

“So they said: ‘We will not answer.’

“And Jesus replied: ‘Neither will I.’

“Now, our Lord did not go about hedging and evading problems of real concern to the establishment of life’s realities in men’s hearts. His teaching was wholly constructive and unequivocal.

“‘If you would live, you must love.’

“‘If you would be great, you must serve.’

“‘If you would be pardoned for your mistakes, you must forgive others their mistakes.’

“‘Do not parade your charity or your piety before men, but exert it in secret.’

“‘Avoid the trumpet and street-corner method of doing and being good.’

“‘It is only the life of the soul that really matters. Keep your soul alive. The dead carry nothing out of this world except such things as they have given away.’

“‘Blessed are the poor, the mourners, the persecuted, the friendless — for theirs is the kingdom of God, and they are called to be the children of God.’

“‘It is readily to be seen that the Isrealitish quest of a Messiah who would restore the lost prestige of the Davidic throne failed to comprehend this Nazarene idealist as a possible candidate.

“Nor is it entirely clear that Jesus considered himself a fulfillment of this national dream which had accumulated so many features of no interest to him. He had in mind an ideal spiritual commonwealth — and, as its founder, he could, by accommodation, admit that he was a king of this new state; but the fact was ever more apparent to him that his conception of the ideal commonwealth of souls was so remote from their ideal, both as to motive and method, that by no stretch of the imagination could he persuade himself that this nation would accept his leadership.

“That we may be doubly assured of this feeling on the part of the Master, we have but to review his attitude toward the Galilean public when, early in his ministry, they tried to force him to be their king. He doubtless would have been willing to accept the leadership they offered him that day, but for the fact that in their minds it carried with it some semblance of political authority. The men who offered him the crown hoped to receive some recognition.

“If there had been the slightest suspicion of a yearning for political power or popularity in the mind of Jesus, he would have made good use of his opportunity to organize the Galileans at the time when they urged kingship upon him.

“Less than a week thereafter, he is saying things to them which were so difficult to understand — things which concerned the ultimate values of the life of the soul — that they left him; and when they were all gone, he turned to the little group of disciples who stood there wondering at his careless disregard of popular approval and said, ‘Will ye also go away?’

“It was an honest question. He did not know, certainly, that they wouldn’t go.”

[To be continued in my next post…]

The Religion of a Collegian, Part 3

by Ronald R Johnson

Lloyd Douglas is speaking to the young people who fill the balcony of his church on this occasion (students at the University of Michigan, October 12, 1919). He has been talking about their leadership responsibilities in the coming days, after graduation and beyond. It is, he says, “an age which faces problems of radical and rapid readjustment” after WWI that are “more serious and far-reaching than any generation has confronted for at least four centuries, if indeed ever before in the long history of mankind.”

(This is from Douglas’s sermon, “The Religion of a Collegian,” in Sermons [4], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

Speaking of the rising generation in the third person, he says that, “if they are to deal with this situation wisely, it will require them to be diligent students of the past, especially as it relates to the development of the principle of religion in the life of the race.

“Moreover, if these potential leaders of the new days are to offer any useful contribution to this problem, it will be necessary that they seek to clarify, in their own minds, the elements of religion which need preservation and emphasis today.”

Now he speaks directly to them, addressing them in second person:

“Three courses are open to you in relation to this grave matter.

“First, you may decide that it is none of your business whether the religion of tomorrow survives or perishes; whether it helps or hinders human progress; whether it ministers to or menaces the aspirations of humanity. Now that you have determined to be an engineer, or a lawyer, or a banker, or a physician, it is no affair of yours that the religion of our people shall drift toward this tendency or that. Let the preachers fuss that all out among themselves….”

Douglas pauses to comment: “It is surprising how many people are going through this life minus any sense of responsibility to the broader needs of the human race.”

He continues: “The second course open to you is the advocacy of a stand-pat policy of religious thought, which refuses to admit of any change, either in historic beliefs or ecclesiastical observances and usages….

“The third course open to you is to insist upon the revitalizing of such religious systems as are now in active operation, striving for a return to elemental principles, and the discarding of all non-essential accretions, gathered up from the incidental excursions made along the way through the years.

“I do not mean that Christianity is to cast off its ancient sacramentalism and symbolism, much of which is of undoubted value to the culture of the soul. Neither do I mean that Christianity should become a mere manual training institution for the performance of social service, in which the mystical claims of the spirit are to be set at naught. But rather, that the real elements of Christianity, as taught and exemplified by the matchless Teacher of Nazareth in Galilee, shall be revivified and energized in modern life.”

(There is at least one other option that Douglas doesn’t mention: you can start a new religion. And it’s an important fact about Douglas that he doesn’t bring this up, for one of his most basic assumptions is that religion is a bequest: it is something we inherit from the strivings of people in past ages. Some years later, after a trip to England, he will shake his head at the lack of respect displayed by Mormon missionaries passing out pamphlets beside an old historic cathedral. To Douglas, religious innovations would only be meaningful if made within the context of all that has gone before.)

He has just said that this third option will build on “the real elements of Christianity.” And now he continues: “Just what these elements are may properly engage the attention of all thoughtful people who hope to contribute something to the conservation of religion in our day.

“For a few Sunday mornings, I expect to discuss with you the fundamental principles of religion as I see them, with the hope that we may clarify our thinking on this important subject. As highly privileged members of our generation, it is surely our duty to do some constructive thinking about the problems of life and character which confront the race.”

And so he invites his congregation of students, professors, administrators, and townspeople to join him in thinking this through more thoroughly in the weeks ahead.

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