How many steps did Jesus take?
Too many to count. But Luke—one part historian, one part accountant—seems like the counting-type. To Luke Jesus is a tireless pilgrim. Luke’s whole story of the Savior recounts the steps from miraculous birth to mystifying resurrection. In Luke we walk while gazing at the footprints on the Jesus-path. The Savior goes along the way, all on his way to Jerusalem. This hike up to Jerusalem is clearly the long and winding road/ that leads to the door…of pain and promise. Luke provides the travel-log.

Today we are swerving on the hairpin turn of the plot’s twist. Slow down, but don’t slam the brakes. This road is slippery with meaning. Plus some distance remains over the cloaks and palms and around the bend. The triumphal entry might mark Jesus’ final destination; it does not seal his last step.

So keep walking, Luke advises. Slow down to see all the faces on the roadside and to maneuver around cloth speed bumps, but keep walking. Through Luke, you’ll soon realize you’re picking up speed even while you’re trying to slow down.

That marathon-walker Jesus is trekking his way to his destiny. You know where we are heading? There are no exits now. Palm Sunday begins the toll road. Once you’re on it, you keep paying the price till you finally spill out to where you’ve been moving all the while: Jerusalem—the summit of mission, the pinnacle of pain.

Reading this gospel, you sense Luke and Jesus’ shared fixation: the city on the hill. Since Luke 9:51 if we journey with Jesus, we face Jerusalem. Jesus sets his face to Jerusalem, says Luke. Jerusalem is the navel of salvation, the centerfold of good news. By geography and through theology, Luke frames Jesus’ earthly life and human death all on the big city. Jesus lingers there in its temple with the teachers (2:42). The devil takes him there to fire the starter’s gun; and Jesus’ journey goes public (4:9). He is set to enter Jerusalem (here) turning passionately to the cross. And even after the resurrection, he wants the mission to begin from Jerusalem (24:47). All of this to show that Jerusalem is the place to gain your bearings…and have them rattled loose again.

On the streets of the city’s east side, George Khoury was shot dead by Palestinian gunmen 2 weeks ago. Khoury, only 20, just a student at Hebrew University, loved to jog the streets around his home in Jerusalem. The Al Aksa Martyrs Brigades admit they made a mistake. They gun down this young man while he was jogging one Friday evening; and for their part, they admit their bullets should not have found him. A mistaken identity: Khoury was an Israeli Arab. Hard to tell who’s who sometimes. Friend or foe, sufferer or savior. [Greg Myre, “Jogger Killed in ‘Mistake,” NYTimes, 3/21/04]

Mistaken identity and Jerusalem go too well together.

Jesus went on ahead going up to Jerusalem…cloaks on colt, riding along on the path down from the Mount of Olives. He is always on the move. And the crowds seem always shifty about how to receive the roving miracle man. This time it’s cloaks on the road and triumph in stereo.

But red carpets and camera flashes are deceiving that way. Expectations for who walks them can vary so dramatically. All this praise, but for what? Do they have the breath to make it last? Do we…?

Is he king or Judean celebrity? Either way, Jesus is turning heads as he weaves the road. The people know him for all the deeds of power they had seen. These loudmouths are a bunch of disciples, says Luke. The weather is fair now too. I wonder if Jesus is thinking: this caravan looks more like a bandwagon. His followers are jumping on board. Things are looking up…of course the religious institution (the Pharisees, according to Luke) have their say too. May be they’re a bit jealous; they’d prefer their share of the limelight. But maybe they’re aware that the charge of insurrection looms large. The Pharisees along Jesus’ journey in Luke are often helpful not hurtful. A whole clump of noisy people naming a fellow Jew “king”: that’s political homicide, pure civil disobedience. So they send a roadside flare: “Shhh, shut them up, Jesus, or this hype will haunt you.” Real Deal or Fraud, Jesus does make one thing clear: this is no time for silence. He breathes deep, borrows a line from Habakkuk, and belts, even the stones would shout out.

The peripatetic Christ, an ambling man, invites us to join in the journey to pain and promise. That call to come and follow; he means it. Put on your boots made for walkin’. The call to discipleship means you’re bound to hit the pavement; not to stop before it’s time to.

All this walking builds up an appetite. Go ahead, eat anything you want. How’s that sound for a diet? The Amish Diet: eat anything you want, so long as you walk 12,000 steps each and every day. Many Amish women and men at a colony in Canada stride between 14,000 and 18,000 steps/day. 2,000 steps make up a mile. Some in the medical community prescribe 10,000 for you and me. This is probably thousands more than you or I take a day, though. [Bob Edwards, NPR, Morning Edition, 1/14/04, “Benefits of a Hearty Amish Diet”] Have you donned a pedometer lately?

Discipleship and marathon walking offer such similitude.

Following Jesus means you won’t always catch your breath, though you will breathe deeply. The struggle to inflate your lungs is no match for his desire to fill your soul, even while (especially while) you gasp for air…

Jesus treads up to Jerusalem with blisters on burning feet, shin-splints, knees shimmying like Jell-O. His heart is about to burst; the mix of emotions swirl. In one moment he faces the down the mouths of praise; in the next he stares up the heart of hate. Cloaks to the cross.

I tell you the bottom rail is on the top, says mother. The world is in such a mess. “Everything that Rises Must Converge,” the short story by Flannery O’Connor, walks a day in the life of an aging white widow and her college age son. Mother and Julian live in the city where she notes with much disdain how crazy the world has become. It’s the early 1960s (presumably) and she carries her prejudices on her sleeve. He hates her for it. The ups and downs of integration and urban identity make Mother long for the old days—the time of segregation, an easier way to identify which road has what travelers on it. One spring evening, Julian escorts Mother downtown. On the bus she meets a little black child and that boy’s mother. They end up getting off the bus at the same stop as the black mother and child. Julian’s Mother is obnoxious. She gestures faux kindness to the little black boy, and it’s so misdirected. In a big production on a small street corner, Mother digs in her handbag, gropes around, and tries to find a sparkling nickel to give the boy. No luck; so instead, in grand style she gives the 5 yr old black boy a new penny. The child’s mom doesn’t take kindly to the token attempt, or the token itself. She hauls off and belts the white lady. The mix of emotions swirl. Julian at first is satisfied that his Mother got the jolt of reality she deserved. The world is a mess and she’s been reoriented to new meanings—new identities, who is rising, who is falling. Then he’s upset because his mom is confused, heart racing, high blood pressure rising; in disorientation she walks half a block only to fall in a lump to the cement sidewalk. End of story…

Now Luke would tell you the top rail is on the bottom. A triumphal entry overturns the route of the world. And the people with Jesus on this roadway do not know which way to walk. Do we? Cloaks and colt leading to the cross. The world is in a mess, so Jesus moves forward to Jerusalem. Toward his calling. Won’t we…?

Won’t we keep walking on past this triumphal entry? If we step forward and find the Savior always where we desperately need him to be: in front, just in front of you close enough to grab. And the Suffering Servant, the Christ, turns right around, looks you in the eye and offers his hand. And he a half-step ahead ushers you straight up the path…even through places you most fear to tread.

How many steps did Jesus take? Too many to count; so many, for Christ’s sake, we shouldn’t stop here…

Catch your breath if you can. Get ready to shout: Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. It is a long and winding road, but today the Savior steps even farther.

Through the world’s mess to the door of highest heaven.