Hosanna – Save Us
I always used to think that “Hosanna” was a cry of praise, an acclamation used to cheer Jesus on his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, but the Hebrew translates more accurately as “Save now”.
This really resonated with me yesterday as I watched the news coverage of the many “no kings” protests in the United States. These millions of people could well have cried out “hosanna” in their ardent protest “save us, save us now”, from the terror that is threatening to destroy us. What really struck me is that Americans are waking up to the reality that no one is coming to save them, it is up to them, to step up, and refuse to let empire in its current form, destroy everything they value and stand for.
The crowds in Jerusalem were expecting a powerful king. One who would overcome the oppressive Roman empire. Many had followed Jesus and witnessed his marvelous acts of healing. Word had spread; expectations were high and so was the enthusiasm of the crowd.
But the Jesus who rode into town on a humble donkey was not what they were expecting. In their book “The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus’ Last Days in Jerusalem”, Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan argue that two processions entered Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday. Jesus was not the only one making a triumphal entry.
Every year during Passover, the Jewish festival that swelled the population of Jerusalem from 50,000 to at least 200,000, the Roman governor of Judea rode into Jerusalem with a full entourage and in full imperial majesty, to remind the Jewish pilgrims that Rome demanded their full allegiance; to remind them where the power lay. The Jewish people were ‘allowed’ to commemorate their ancient victory against Egypt but if they attempted any resistance to the Roman occupation, they would face the consequences.
So let us picture the scene as it unfolds: as Pilate approaches from the west, riding on a noble stallion and accompanied by his legions who rule by force and terror, Jesus approaches from the east, by contrast riding on a donkey and accompanied by his ragtag, unimpressive band of followers. Unlike the Romans, he is defenseless and weaponless.
The crowd soon turns, unimpressed. He is not what they were expecting. The Hosannas will quickly turn to cries of “crucify him, crucify him”.
The question is presented to us today as it was presented to the people of the United States yesterday. Will we choose the way of love? Will we choose what is humble and real? will we make choices for the common good? Will I make the choice once again to follow Jesus, whose only power is love, love for everyone?
If I had been in the crowd that first Palm Sunday, would I have called “crucify him” because I was looking for a different kind of power?
This is the pain that we all face during Holy Week, the question that each one of us must ask ourselves. Who am I for? What are my values? And where have I compromised? Where have I sold out?
Jesus died, not because an angry father in heaven demanded a sacrifice for our sins. Jesus died because he exposed the lie at the center of human kingdoms, when power and control by a dominant culture regime oppress the well-being of the many.
Jesus promised a kingdom of love; a way of living that considers the well-being of all, where all belong; all races, cultures, and genders. A kingdom where none is oppressed, where power is shared. And this is our hope: that no matter what befalls us, no matter what we have done, no matter what situation we find ourselves in, we have a God who loves us unconditionally, who is always there for us, whose arms are always open wide with love and welcome.
None of us knows what deaths, disappointments and heartaches we will experience between now and our own resurrection day, but we know this: it will be alright in the end, because Jesus has shown us that it is so. He has shown it with his love, with his refusal to bend down to human empires, and by his death which showed that there is nothing that he would not do for us. This is the hope and the promise that we carry into Holy Week. Amen.