No wonder some of the officials tried to silence the
crowd. His challenge to all in power was
on full display. And to be fair to the
Pharisees who challenged him, they feared that this rally would degenerate into
open rebellion and the Romans would slaughter everyone indiscriminately. They were right to be afraid, as 30 years
after Palm Sunday, the first Jewish-Roman war destroyed Israel as an
independent nation until 1948.
They were right to attempt to dial down the rhetoric
and the passion. But Jesus was right to
say that nothing would silence the people.
This is one of those stories that makes me wonder how
one ordinary human being could be so clear on their purpose, so brave, and so
determined to go through with what he felt called to do. We are in awe of the sheer determination of
the Ukrainian people right now to do what needs to be done for their country. It’s like that, but I think it’s more. Jesus had no hope that he would survive Good
Friday. His people didn’t understand
that. Even when Jesus bluntly told his
disciples again and again, they denied it, scolded him, or tried to make him think
in more positive terms. They thought he
was heading towards Jerusalem to replace Pilot and Herod, to create a political
solution to their problems.
They were caught up in their small hungers, the hunger
for power, the hunger for significance, the hunger for personal freedom. Jesus was thinking of the larger hungers, of
peace and healthy relationships, of accountability and authenticity and
community. Jesus had a sense of the
historic, seeing that this was a time to push for radical change.
Just as Moses saw his people enslaved in Egypt, being
treated as tools to build pyramids and temples to stone Gods, or Jeremiah
facing down the politics that had brought the Babylonians to the walls of
Jerusalem, or Ezekiel having a vision of dead dry bones that needed to be
preached at, or Isaiah guiding the exiles back to a devastated and destroyed
city, Jesus saw that the situation was dire and people needed something
fundamentally different.
Not unlike the times we are living in today. At our Lenten Book chat on Wednesday, we
talked about ethical dilemmas, and how many we face. Even something as simple as which grocery
store we walk into and whether we wear a mask when we go in, who do we sit next
to, do we go for coffee, these many decisions become weighted with possibility
and risk and challenge.
It’s exhausting to have so many decisions. Sometimes it is downright depressing. Some of us search for good news about
Ukraine, some of us debate about who to vote for in the upcoming UCP leadership
conference, some of us struggle to decide how to cast our ballots for our union
recommendations, some of us celebrate the new union at Amazon, some of us
lament the power of unions, some of us wonder about how to live more
intentionally into the understanding that we are all treaty people. And some of us wonder how we will get our
kids to do their homework or how we will survive their brand-new school recorders. And just like the ancient Hebrew people in
Egypt, the exiles in Babylon, beleaguered Jerusalem, it’s too much; we need
some hope.
So we call out “Hosanna” like the people watching Jesus
on his colt. Hosanna means help us or
save us. While it’s not mentioned in
Luke, who was a Greek and wouldn’t necessarily know the Hebrew language, it is
in all three of the other gospels. Save
us. Help us. And Jesus told the authorities that the need
for help was so great that even the stones would cry out.
Not unlike now for many people around the world. Afghanistan women crying out, first nations
people, our young people who may never be able to afford their own homes,
Koreans tired of war, Syrians struggling to get out of their country which is
no longer in the media spotlight, people of color dealing with racism in
Europe, and so on. We call out for help
even when it seems most helpless.
And while I would like to promise that all will be well,
and all manner of thing will be well, we do need to call out for help in times
like these.
Our faith story is full of communities asking for
help. The answer comes in unexpected
ways. Moses, a convicted murderer, leads
the people on a forty-year hiking trip, Jeremiah starts a real estate company
in the middle of a war, Isaiah inspires the grandchildren and greatgrandchildren
of the exile to return home and rebuild. Unexpected help still appears
today. I stumbled across a poem written
in Cologne Germany in a basement during the Second World War. It was scratched in the wall by refugees
hiding from Nazis. It goes “I believe in the sun, though it be dark; I believe
in God, though He be silent; I believe in neighborly love, though it be unable
to reveal itself.” When we are calling
for help, it is a reminder that we all can still call for help, and help comes.
When amazon workers ask each other for help, unions start
to form. When people in war-torn
countries ask for help, dictators get kicked off the UN Human Rights Council,
and when friends of Lee and Kelsey Thunder ask for help so that their graves
will not continue to be unmarked, it is answered with stunning speed and
generosity!
Jesus encourages us to call for help to build a world
of peace for everyone regardless of the language they speak, the God they
follow, the temple they worship in, the dream that have for the future. Let us cry out Hosanna and be ready for God’s surprising
answers us in this time of need. May it be so for us all!
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