2024.03.24 | Songs of Loudest Praise
“Songs of Loudest Praise”
John 12:12-16
Preached by
Rev. Dr. Marvin Lance Wiser
Eden United Church of Christ
Hayward, CA
24 March 2024
Palm Sunday
Peace of Christ, Church. It is a glorious day. Amen? I’m so happy that you are here with us this morning. I’m going to do something a little different today, and I want to make sure all can hear me, even the young folks that we have in the sanctuary this morning. Every time I say the word “hosanna,” you say hosanna. Okay? A little call and response. You think you can do that? Let’s practice, I say hosanna, you say hosanna, “HOSANNA!” Oh come on, we can be a little louder, can’t we? Let’s make sure the folks at home can hear us. HOSANNA! There we go.
Alright, so what does HOSANNA mean? In Hebrew, hôši’â and nāʾ are two words that together mean “please save” or “deliver now,” as in Ps 118:25, “Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!” Now, Jesus’ own name, Yeshua, which is from the same root as hôši’â, means “He saves,” quite the word play for the supplication “please save.” However, probably during the time in-between the testaments, HOSANNA also developed into a familiar expression of jubilation, similar to “Hail to the king.” Which you might imagine how this expression then would have ruffled the Emperor’s feathers.
Before we get to Caesar let’s take a look back at our Wandering Heart series and see where we have encountered Jesus through Peter. We have seen Peter walk on water, and cling to Jesus for rescue; pronounce his faith confidently, and been told to get out of Jesus’ way. And seemingly, now he is out of Jesus’ way. He’s not mentioned in our passage this morning, and so we are left to imagine him standing among the crowds as they sing songs of loudest praise, HOSANNA, amplifying his own realization that Jesus is the Messiah, son of the living God, an amplification of praise that has real world and dangerous implications for those living within empire.
The triumphal entry, as it is known, is found in all four Gospels (see also Mt 21:1–11; Mk 11:1–10; Lk 20:29–40). John lets us know that it occurred on Sunday, the very next day after Jesus’ anointing by Mary at Bethany. Now, during his anointing episode in John, Jesus remarks that the aromatic oils were meant to be for his funeral, but they also served another purpose in ancient society, particularly for consecrating kings. This stretched way back before King David and continues to this day when just last year the Archbishop of Canterbury anointed King Charles III.
Along with the shouts of HOSANNA, John tells us were palm branches. Since the Maccabean period, a time in-between the Old and New Testaments, about 160 years before Jesus, or the same amount of time that separates us from the Civil War, palm branches were symbols of national triumph and victory. This was the period when occupied Jews for decades revolted against Seleucid rule, eventually attaining political independence for a short time. After expelling the Greeks, Jewish king named Shimeon or Simon, who established the Hasmonean Dynasty, was celebrated with praise and palm branches once he reclaimed the Citadel in Jerusalem with the Maccabees (1 Macc 13:51). The story of repurifying the temple is also celebrated with palm branches. We find both of these instances in the books of Maccabees.
2 Macc 10:5-8 states: It happened that on the same day on which the sanctuary had been profaned by the foreigners, the purification of the sanctuary took place, that is, on the twenty-fifth day of the same month, which was Chislev. They celebrated it for eight days with rejoicing, in the manner of the Festival of Booths, remembering how not long before, during the Festival of Booths, they had been wandering in the mountains and caves like wild animals. Therefore, carrying ivy-wreathed wands and beautiful branches and also palm fronds, they offered hymns of thanksgiving to him who had given success to the purifying of his own holy place. They decreed by public edict, ratified by vote, that the whole nation of the Jews should observe these days every year.
This is the story of dedication, of Chanukah. Understood within their own traditions, the palm branches then suggest that the crowd greets Jesus, not only in extravagant welcome, but as a national hero, not unlike Shimeon two centuries prior, perhaps with the hopes that Jesus too would rid them of imperial occupation.
The HOSANNA is quoted from Psalm 118, which happens to be a royal psalm sung in thanksgiving for victory in battle; verses 19–29 of the psalm provide the instructions for the liturgical celebration of the return of the triumphant king to the Temple, not unlike what we see in Maccabees.
The crowd, Peter and the disciples, might have been anticipating such a royal triumph, a hope in Jesus as the one who will restore God’s kingdom in their nation. John tells us that the crowd adds something that is not found in either the Hebrew Bible or the Greek Septuagint versions of Psalm 118, “King of Israel.” This addition, the day after Jesus’ anointing, mind you, recalls the momentary reclaiming of Jewish political independence that we see in Maccabees. Would Peter and the disciples’ shouts of HOSANNA mingle with those of the crowd, or will they shirk away for fear of what just a “Hail to the King” jubilation could stir up in Jerusalem? John has already let us know from earlier passages that Rome was already growing concerned with Jesus’ increasing popularity. Just how real could this get?
However, the regal entry would be one like none other, surely one not worthy of imperial fanfare. Jesus rides not a stallion fit for a battalion, but a donkey, no doubt appearing a little wonky, yet embodying the eschatological vision of Zech 9:9, “Triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Humble in the Hebrew signifies poor or in a needy condition, one without possessions. This king was not about centralization of wealth and economy, he was more akin to the dispossessed masses than to royal highnesses.
Accordingly, it is only from the perspective of Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension that the real meaning of Jesus’ kingship can be comprehended. Triumphal for sure, worthy of HOSANNA for certain, but in ways not previously imagined, that confound our understandings.
When the church celebrates Palm Sunday, when it shouts, “HOSANNA! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord,” it is not participating in a victory march like in Ps 118 or in Maccabees. Rather, Palm Sunday is a moment for communal reflection on Jesus’ identity and mission. With the advantage of Holy Week hindsight, knowing how the story turns out, do we join in the subversive shouts, calling for a different type of triumph, or do we slink away into silence, or even worse, join those few who wish to uphold dominant power at all costs?
Surely the disciples themselves, without the privilege of Holy Week hindsight, must have been nervous, hearts a wondering, what with Jesus gathering so much attention and all, and now receiving laud and praise fit for a king. To fully appreciate their conundrum, we must put this event in the context that John gives us of having occurred shortly after Jesus’ raising of Lazarus, and the subsequent decision to execute Jesus by some while the many began to believe in him, and one anointing him.
John tells us that “His disciples did not understand these things at first” (Jn 12:16). How could they? It was beyond the imagination to fathom what Jesus’ kingship is all about, it was being birthed at the cataclysmic collision of empire and prophetic imagination. Yet to come will be his arrest, trial, crucifixion, resurrection, ascension, and imparting of the Holy Spirit. They didn’t get it. How could they?
But then John tells us, “Then they remembered,” which is the Palm Sunday invitation to us. Like Peter and the disciples in the crowd waving their branches, we are also witnesses to the meaning of Jesus’ ministry and his peaceable kingship. What will we remember about this day and about the hard and holy week to come? Will our “HOSANNAS” still ring out by Good Friday, will we state never again, or will the hard truths of the events we will witness silence our praise, will we be complacent, or worse, complicit with empire?
As we imagine ourselves in the crowd on this day, shouting HOSANNA, may we remember that they are supposed to be praising Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus, Son of God, but instead they are lauding a poor teacher entering the city on a donkey. Their singing is subversive, courageous, and contagious. Their praise shows the ripple effect of public displays of faith, and the influence that it has on the powerful.
How do we publicly display faith, persuade power? Yesterday in the rain more than 1,000 people in the Bay Area joined the Worldwide Gaza Ceasefire Pilgrimage, a Via Dolorosa of Solidarity, where pilgrims in 180 cities in 19 countries walked in prayerful solidarity with the people of Gaza, with all hostages and captives, calling for a durable ceasefire. The Bay Area pilgrimage was a 22-mile walk, from Berkely to Alameda, symbolizing the distance from Gaza City to the Rafah crossing refugee camp. Since the Israel offensive, UNICEF estimates that more than 13,500 children have been outright massacred in Gaza, well over a third of the more than 32,000 dead. More than a million are not starving, but are being starved. Though it is Ramadan, for countless innocents, fasting is forced rather than chosen. Rather than bombs, millions are calling for another way via their courageous public displays of faith, calling for an end to the genocide in Gaza that Israel is perpetrating and the U.S. is aiding.
Also this past week, the republican candidate for president took his racist and xenophobic plot a step further, and stated that migrants are not human. We’ve seen the dehumanization tactics of demagogues, from tyrants of old and tycoons of new. Our own context as well often demands subversion then. And not one political party has a monopoly on deserving subversion. It seems every four years, if our political candidate doesn’t win, we remind ourselves, “well, really our king is in Heaven.” It’s funny, we don’t remind ourselves of this when our guy–or hopefully soon-to-be gal–is in the highest office. What would it look like if Jesus were not our fall back? What if we sang his praises at all times? Regardless of which party had control of the executive branch of government. It might make ‘em a little more accountable. I say we should sing HOSANNAs no matter who’s in office, so they know the type of justice and righteousness that we expect. Amen? When the least of these are not being centered, we should be as subversive as the crowds that greeted Jesus, today is our dress rehearsal.
Another way we show our faith is by partnering in solidarity with those who are humble as Jesus was. In a system that disincentivizes communal wealth, supporting communal land trusts to scholarship programs like Eden’s is a way to not only support an individual, but allow those echoes of subversion to reverberate, and move us toward an Equity 2.0, all the while singing songs of loudest praise, songs of salvation through subversion, knowing, truly knowing, who reigns with justice and righteousness, peace and equity, love and harmony, that which we endeavor to emulate each and every day.
So, today I invite you to belt it out. Sing from your belly songs of loudest praise. Channel Sarah Vaughn or Gregory Porter. Work that diaphragm. You know, like how you do in the shower when you’ve got the exhaust fan on high and think no one can hear you. God hears you. And today we want everyone passing by at the corner of Birch and Grove to hear you too. So that they might ask, Good God, what is going on here? We’re up to some good trouble, that’s what we’re doing, lauding HOSANNAS upon an unlikely servant king that breaks the mold, who shows us an alternate way, centering peace and love where once stood military might. HOSANNA! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel!” Amen.