A Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday, Year Bby Pastor Laura Gentry
John 12:12-16
This is always an exciting day in our church year. We get props. Unlike an ordinary Sunday, we are given palm branches to wave. And this year, we ordered fancier ones with the whole branch—not just the single strand ones we’ve had in the past. We get to sing the triumphant songs, and shout “Hosanna!” and wave our palms about. But what does it all mean? How is this supposed to prepare us for the impending, somber Holy Week experiences of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday?
Let’s take a look at each one of these elements to figure it out. First, is the palm thing. Why palms? Why do we have to spend money every year from our worship budget ordering these things? Why couldn’t we just call it “random shrubbery Sunday” and cut whatever branches we could find and bring them in to wave about? Well, this would be more cost effective but John’s gospel specifically mentions that it was palms the people waved as Jesus entered Jerusalem. John always has deep, symbolic meaning in everything he writes so the palms must mean something important.
And indeed, they do. You see, 200 years before Jesus triumphal entry into the city, there was the triumphal entry of Simon Maccabeus into that same city. He remains a greatly revered hero of the Jewish people. They had been under the horrible leadership of Antiochus Epiphanes who forbid the practice of the Jewish faith. In 167 B.C. Antiochus took over the Jewish temple in Jerusalem—the holiest place on earth—and created an altar to the Greek god Zeus and proceeded to offer swine’s flesh upon it. In the Book of Daniel, this is called the "abomination of desolation" because it was so awful that it would hard to imagine doing anything more offensive to God. In the additional biblical material known as the Apocrypha, it explains that under Antiochus, the government also “put to death the women who had their children circumcised, and their families and those who circumcised them; and they hung the infants from their mothers’ necks.” (1:60-61) The nation was hurting and in desperate need of a hero to save them from this oppression.
Thus, Mattathias, an old man of priestly stock, rounded up his five sons and all the weapons he could find. A guerrilla campaign was launched against Antiochus’ soldiers. Though Mattathias died early on, his son Judas, called Maccabeus, was able within three years to cleanse and to rededicate the temple. But the fighting wasn’t over. A full 20 years later, after Judas and a successor brother, Jonathan, had died in battle, a third brother, Simon, took over, and through his diplomacy achieved Judean independence, establishing what would become a full century of Jewish sovereignty. So there was great celebration. The scripture says that the Jews “entered Jerusalem with praise and palm branches, and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs, because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel.” (I Macc. 13:51) Not only that, but this date was celebrated every year as the Jewish Independence day and palms were waved to remember this great military victory. Now, 200 years later, the Jews are under Roman occupation and are desperate for another Maccabean type revolt that can set them free. The palms say that they are expecting Jesus to be a military hero like Simon Maccabeus.
Now what about the cry of “Hosanna”? This is what the people shout at Jesus when he enters. Today, we think of this as a praise word. We sing it in our communion liturgy, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest.” Other than that, “Hosanna” is not a word we use regularly in conversation. You don’t call someone up and say, “Hey, how are you doing? Hosanna, man!” It is a foreign word to us but what it means in the native language is “Save, now!” It was a desperate cry for help. It is usually what people would say to their king in an effort to get him to protect them militarily. And this is what the people cheer to Jesus as he comes.
That’s what our Palm Sunday procession is all about. It enables us to enter this drama too, as we wave our palms and shout “Hosanna!” we are begging God to save us, too. But the question is, do we have the humility to do that? Oh yes, we can waggle our palms and sing our hymns of triumph and say “Hosanna!” whenever it is written in the bulletin but do we really want God to save us? Do we dare trust God to save us from the things that oppress us? Can we cry to God with our whole heart: Save me! Save me from financial ruin! Save me from depression! Save me from anger! Save me from loneliness! Save me from failure! Save me from feelings of worthlessness! Save me from fear! Save my falling-apart family! Save me from sickness! Save me from cancer! Save me from aging! Save me from having to go into the nursing home! Save me from death!
You see this liturgy is more than just a pleasant bit of pageantry with fancy greenery. It is really an opportunity to go to that place deep inside, where we are broken and alone and afraid. And from that vulnerable place, cry the cry of faith: Hosanna! Save me now, Lord! Grab me by the collar and pull me up out of the waves, God, because I am drowning. There is nothing in this world I need more than your help!
Jesus didn’t come as a military leader like the original Palm Sunday crowds expected. But he came to answer their cries of Hosanna, nevertheless. He came to give himself over to suffering and death so that he could rise and with it, bring redemption not just for that country at that time, but for all people of all times and places.
That’s the heart of the Jesus story. It tells us that God comes to save us. God was not content to stay apart from this sinful world. No, God would not remain in heaven and simply send a fax or e-mail with a cheerful message of encouragement. God wanted so much to be with us, that he became incarnate. He came to enter into our broken, fragmented, messy world. This compassionate answer to our hosanna cries is so amazing, it is hard to take it in.
And so we can march headlong into the sacred journey of Holy Week. We can walk with Jesus the way of the cross—clasping our palm branches for dear life and wailing “Hosanna” from the depths of our being. We know, by faith, that God is with us and will answer our cry to save us, to save us now.
Let us pray: Oh God of endless grace, we need you to rescue us from the depths. Please do what you have always done when your people have cried out, "Please save us!" In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
This is always an exciting day in our church year. We get props. Unlike an ordinary Sunday, we are given palm branches to wave. And this year, we ordered fancier ones with the whole branch—not just the single strand ones we’ve had in the past. We get to sing the triumphant songs, and shout “Hosanna!” and wave our palms about. But what does it all mean? How is this supposed to prepare us for the impending, somber Holy Week experiences of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday?
Let’s take a look at each one of these elements to figure it out. First, is the palm thing. Why palms? Why do we have to spend money every year from our worship budget ordering these things? Why couldn’t we just call it “random shrubbery Sunday” and cut whatever branches we could find and bring them in to wave about? Well, this would be more cost effective but John’s gospel specifically mentions that it was palms the people waved as Jesus entered Jerusalem. John always has deep, symbolic meaning in everything he writes so the palms must mean something important.
And indeed, they do. You see, 200 years before Jesus triumphal entry into the city, there was the triumphal entry of Simon Maccabeus into that same city. He remains a greatly revered hero of the Jewish people. They had been under the horrible leadership of Antiochus Epiphanes who forbid the practice of the Jewish faith. In 167 B.C. Antiochus took over the Jewish temple in Jerusalem—the holiest place on earth—and created an altar to the Greek god Zeus and proceeded to offer swine’s flesh upon it. In the Book of Daniel, this is called the "abomination of desolation" because it was so awful that it would hard to imagine doing anything more offensive to God. In the additional biblical material known as the Apocrypha, it explains that under Antiochus, the government also “put to death the women who had their children circumcised, and their families and those who circumcised them; and they hung the infants from their mothers’ necks.” (1:60-61) The nation was hurting and in desperate need of a hero to save them from this oppression.
Thus, Mattathias, an old man of priestly stock, rounded up his five sons and all the weapons he could find. A guerrilla campaign was launched against Antiochus’ soldiers. Though Mattathias died early on, his son Judas, called Maccabeus, was able within three years to cleanse and to rededicate the temple. But the fighting wasn’t over. A full 20 years later, after Judas and a successor brother, Jonathan, had died in battle, a third brother, Simon, took over, and through his diplomacy achieved Judean independence, establishing what would become a full century of Jewish sovereignty. So there was great celebration. The scripture says that the Jews “entered Jerusalem with praise and palm branches, and with harps and cymbals and stringed instruments, and with hymns and songs, because a great enemy had been crushed and removed from Israel.” (I Macc. 13:51) Not only that, but this date was celebrated every year as the Jewish Independence day and palms were waved to remember this great military victory. Now, 200 years later, the Jews are under Roman occupation and are desperate for another Maccabean type revolt that can set them free. The palms say that they are expecting Jesus to be a military hero like Simon Maccabeus.
Now what about the cry of “Hosanna”? This is what the people shout at Jesus when he enters. Today, we think of this as a praise word. We sing it in our communion liturgy, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest.” Other than that, “Hosanna” is not a word we use regularly in conversation. You don’t call someone up and say, “Hey, how are you doing? Hosanna, man!” It is a foreign word to us but what it means in the native language is “Save, now!” It was a desperate cry for help. It is usually what people would say to their king in an effort to get him to protect them militarily. And this is what the people cheer to Jesus as he comes.
That’s what our Palm Sunday procession is all about. It enables us to enter this drama too, as we wave our palms and shout “Hosanna!” we are begging God to save us, too. But the question is, do we have the humility to do that? Oh yes, we can waggle our palms and sing our hymns of triumph and say “Hosanna!” whenever it is written in the bulletin but do we really want God to save us? Do we dare trust God to save us from the things that oppress us? Can we cry to God with our whole heart: Save me! Save me from financial ruin! Save me from depression! Save me from anger! Save me from loneliness! Save me from failure! Save me from feelings of worthlessness! Save me from fear! Save my falling-apart family! Save me from sickness! Save me from cancer! Save me from aging! Save me from having to go into the nursing home! Save me from death!
You see this liturgy is more than just a pleasant bit of pageantry with fancy greenery. It is really an opportunity to go to that place deep inside, where we are broken and alone and afraid. And from that vulnerable place, cry the cry of faith: Hosanna! Save me now, Lord! Grab me by the collar and pull me up out of the waves, God, because I am drowning. There is nothing in this world I need more than your help!
Jesus didn’t come as a military leader like the original Palm Sunday crowds expected. But he came to answer their cries of Hosanna, nevertheless. He came to give himself over to suffering and death so that he could rise and with it, bring redemption not just for that country at that time, but for all people of all times and places.
That’s the heart of the Jesus story. It tells us that God comes to save us. God was not content to stay apart from this sinful world. No, God would not remain in heaven and simply send a fax or e-mail with a cheerful message of encouragement. God wanted so much to be with us, that he became incarnate. He came to enter into our broken, fragmented, messy world. This compassionate answer to our hosanna cries is so amazing, it is hard to take it in.
And so we can march headlong into the sacred journey of Holy Week. We can walk with Jesus the way of the cross—clasping our palm branches for dear life and wailing “Hosanna” from the depths of our being. We know, by faith, that God is with us and will answer our cry to save us, to save us now.
Let us pray: Oh God of endless grace, we need you to rescue us from the depths. Please do what you have always done when your people have cried out, "Please save us!" In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
