Throughout the couple of decades of my ministry career Palm Sunday has always been a big day for the kid’s. At some point during the service, the kids would parade around the sanctuary waving their palm branches and shaking tambourines and banging drums while the congregation sang, “Hosanna, loud hosanna, the little children sang; through pillared court and temple the joyful anthem rang. To Jesus, who held them close folded to his breast, the children sang their praises, the simplest and the best.” This was the Sunday children got to make a lot of noise in church!
My first church had a lot of kids. We made a lot of noise. My second church a small church with a small group of kids. We had a lot of fun, but that group of kids grew up and teens when they come are too cool for palm waving. My last few years…well, we’ve had to raise the age of childhood up to 70+ in order to have children. We still pick up a handful of palm branches, just in case. And, we all sing with a bit of the sorrow and the anger of lament in our voices as we miss the joyful noise of all those children banging and clanging in a well-attended service. We ask God, “Why are there no children any more? Will they ever come back?” and God gives no answer.
Then there’s this year – isolation. This year we aren’t even meeting in our churches today. We are sequestered in our houses as the corona virus is crossing the globe like an occupying army of aliens. We have to keep our distance from people because we don’t know who might be harbouring the enemy. We have to wash our hands a lot as if it were a religious ritual because purity will help fight this thing.
Oh dear, I’m sorry. I might be adding to the little bit of depression we are all feeling now. But, stick with me. I’m just trying to set the stage for us to take the opportunity to rethink Palm Sunday a little bit. You see, it may be that the way we’ve understood and celebrated the events behind this Sunday – King Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey to the praises of a crowd – might be a little to sugar-coated, a little too nostalgic a celebration than it originally was. Let’s step back in time here for a moment.
The people in this crowd and the people in Jerusalem were also living under occupation. The Roman Empire and its viral army permeated the land. The people led sequestered lives. You didn’t want to be out too late for the Romans might think you were an insurrectionist. You didn’t know whom you could trust, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. You kept yourself distant. There were zealous religious types wanting you to wash your hands, wash your dishes, and forbidding you from interacting with certain types because purity was what they believed would get God to act faster to save his people while impurity would bring down his wrath. It is to a people under a worse occupation than we are under now that Jesus came “humble, and riding on a donkey”.
The crowds shouted “Hosanna”, but hosanna does not mean what we think it means. We have come to think that “Hosanna” is just another ancient word like “Hallelujah” that simply means “Praise God.” But guess what? It’s not. It’s actually a term crying out for political deliverance. It means “Save us now” or “Deliver us now”. Sorry. Ancient word lesson coming.
Hosanna is a Greekification of the Hebrew phrase, “Hoshiah Nah.” “Hoshiah” comes from theHebrew verb Yashah which means “to save” or “to deliver”. “Nah” means now. “Hoshiah nah” – hosanna – means “Save us now.” And wait…there’s more. The Hebrew name we know as Joshua also comes from this word and it means “Deliverer” or “Saviour”. You may or may not know that the name Jesus is actually the Greekification of the Hebrew name Joshua. Jesus’s name means “Saviour” or Deliverer” and that is a political term. A saviour, a deliverer is a leader one who comes and saves, who deliverers God’s people from the enemies who are oppressing them.
When Jesus road into Jerusalem that day the crowd was singing out a very politically charged chant. “Save us now, Saviour Jesus, Son of David, who is coming on the authority of God bringing in salvation from the highest reaches of heaven.” Salvation here doesn’t mean going heaven when you die, either. It is the presence of the Kingdom of God on earth casting out the oppressive rulers.
Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and its foal. Matthew quotes an Old Testament prophecy or rather misquotes it. It’s actually not from Isaiah. It’s the prophet Zechariah and Matthew leaves out that he is coming victoriously and triumphantly as Zechariah says. Matthew wants us to see that Jesus is coming humbly in a very un-Roman-like way. Let me give you some more historical background.
Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, didn’t live in Jerusalem year round. He only came to Jerusalem for the big Jewish festivals with a lot of soldiers in tow in order to give the impression of a strong Roman presence to discourage uprisings. Jesus rode into Jerusalem about four days before the Passover festival and that would have been about the same time Pontius Pilate arrived. Pilate would have come to town either riding a huge Roman warhorse or in a carriage surrounded by mounted soldiers. Pilate’s crowd would have been hundreds of Roman soldiers.
Compare that to Jesus riding into town on a donkey surrounded by a crowd of poor people, tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes, religious zealots chanting, “Save us now, Jesus, Son of David. The Blessed One who comes in the Name of the Lord with saving power from on high.” (or something to that effect.) No wonder Jerusalem was in turmoil. They would have been expecting the Romans to slaughter this ragtag, larger than five persons gathering because what it was doing was a blatant insult to Caesar’s authority.
Uh oh. I think I’ve lost my train of thought. Let me see if I can get it back. We’re kind of under occupation by a virus and the people back in Jesus day were under Roman occupation. Hosanna means “Save us now.” And, Jesus shows up in a very humble way to do that. You know, I think I’ve just been spending too much time holed up in my attic office looking out my lofty window at the occasional passers-by walking their little dogs while wearing their daytime pyjamas which were actually last night’s night time pyjamas. I just found out that COVID has invaded Mapleview, the little long-term care home a block up the street here that I’ve been going to at least once a month ever-since we moved to Owen Sound to fiddle and banjo a smile on there faces. I wonder what the long-term effects of this social isolation will be on my kids. My stepfather went into hospice this week down in the States. Due to COVID restrictions there’s no way any of us that live at a distance can get into to see him or be a support to my mother. My stepsibs can’t even go in to see him. Premiere Ford just released those “stark figures” for the projection of the spread of this virus through Ontario. In the midst of all this, I’m screaming “Hosanna” “Save us now”. And Jesus is here in our midst, but not in triumphant and victorious ways. But rather, in small, humble, compassionate ways. People call to see how we’re doing. Several of you have invited us to come and bring the dog and have a walk in the open air on your farms. The undergirding, pervading power of prayer is felt.
I finished putting these thoughts together looking from my living room couch out through the kitchen window. As I finished typing “prayer is felt”, I looked up and the sun was rising in my window. The timing and the beauty of the moment made me think that we don’t know what the metaphorical Easter morning is going to be like when this “occupation” is over. But today is a sunny day. Let’s live it to the glory of the one who created that beautiful sunrise. Amen.
