A Cold and a Broken Hosanna: How Jesus Fails to Meet our Expectations
Kids are chasing each other around, ‘sword fighting’ with the cedar branches that we just handed them. I try to corral these little warriors, seeking to control that which simply won’t be controlled. Sigh. This is how our church’s Palm Sunday ‘processional’ begins. It’s not a Biblical purist’s re-creation (cedars, not palm trees, are in abundance on the West Coast), but as our worship musicians find their groove, eventually the whacking and screaming are replaced by some semblance of dancing and singing. It’s glorious chaos, and I’m happy to report that no one lost an eye.
It does get me thinking about the historical event we are celebrating, though. Over the years, many of us have learnt how to temper our playful pageantry at Christmastide to embrace a grittier, more realistic nativity. Perhaps it’s time to place Palm Sunday under the same scrutiny.
The raw data we’ve been given is good: people have lined the streets of Jerusalem to celebrate the coming of King Jesus, chanting ‘Hosanna’ and ‘Blessed be the King of Israel’. It’s a hopeful and inspiring scene, and the worship songs we sing today do this part justice. But there is something more going on here than a lovely coronation parade, and if we don’t see the proverbial storm brewing, we may be missing the point.
For example, what’s wrong with the throngs calling Jesus the King of Israel? Absolutely nothing, except that they already have one. And this word hosanna (deliver us) was more rightly heard as a political slogan than a personal confession. And do take note: these words are being shouted forcefully, not sung blissfully.
We begin to see the picture emerge: these folks aren’t asking Jesus to save them from their sin, but to liberate them from the tyranny of Rome, the corruption of Herod, and to redeem Israel from thousands of years of conquest, enslavement, exile, and occupation.
If I were a film director trying to capture the mood of this scene, this is the part where the movie’s soundtrack would move from gloriously rousing to something more ominous. The camera that’s been panning the large animated crowd would now zoom onto individual faces, and we would realize that many of these people aren’t smiling: they’re baring their teeth.
Given their history, who could blame them? They expect Jesus to be a military conqueror and a political juggernaut, and, believing that God is on their side, they envision an impending uprising. “It’s only a matter of time,” they must be thinking, “before the Messiah calls us to arms. And when he does, we’ll be ready.”
But now the camera falls on the face of the man on the donkey. Jesus isn’t smiling and raising his arms in victory as he enters Jerusalem. There are tears in his eyes because he knows what they want and he knows who he is.
In the course of six days, the verdict will become clear: the hands that held palm branches on Sunday will be the very same hands making fists on Friday. The voices shouting “Hosanna!” will be hollering, “Give us Barabbas instead!”
… the camera fades to black.
Sometimes I wonder: Has anything really changed?
Several years ago, Canadians witnessed a failed violent uprising south of the border, with some ‘Christian patriots’ literally bearing the Prince of Peace’s name on their fettered banners. But this example is low-hanging fruit and only proves that we can use Jesus’ name to justify just about anything. Besides, it’s missing the point.
The fact is, most of us have self-interests that we justify in Jesus’ name. Too often, our understanding of Jesus being “for us” involves an impulse to believe that Jesus is “against them”. When we lift these tainted hosannas, Jesus dies a thousand deaths, and we become no different than the misguided dissidents in Jerusalem two thousand years ago.
Conversely, we can try to depoliticize Jesus, but he’ll have none of it. The kingdom he inaugurated through his death and resurrection isn’t simply an inner-peace “serenity now” kinda thing, but a social reality that we are called to participate in together. In contrast to the partisan idolatry and polarizing insanity that we have conjured in these troubled times, the goal of this ‘gospel-soaked’ kingdom is the reconciliation of all people. This can’t happen through strong-armed coercion or contemptible cancelling, but only through solidarity with those who are suffering, practicing hospitality toward all people, and living for the sake of others.
Palm Sunday is a test for us. It lays all our agendas bare.
As we enter the final week of this Lenten season, I pray that we will do a deep-dive examination of our fearful motivations and ill-placed allegiances. May we find God’s good graces there. May we then tune our ears to the new song that Jesus is singing, raise our palm branches (or, in our case, cedar branches), and find the ‘hosanna’ that truly saves us.
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