Hosanna: It Doesn't Mean What You Think - Phillippians 2:5-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.  

I would have loved to have been present that first Palm Sunday celebration as Jesus entered the holy city of Jerusalem. To have seen the sight of the crowds – dozens and dozens of smiling, cheerful faces, faces filled with hope and expectation, the waving hands welcoming Jesus as a king, little kids joining in the excitement by dancing around their parents’ legs – as they lined the streets between the tall stone walls of the city and the rows of houses would have been a thrill of a lifetime. My nose would have been tickled from the dust in the air from the people stirring it up, shuffling for position to lay their branches down on the ground in front of the slowly plodding donkey. The grit is in my beard, on my skin – I can even taste it, but that’s OK…it’s adding to the excitement of the moment. My ears would have been filled with the mixed cacophony of sounds – the cheers of the people, the soft chuff sound of the donkey’s hooves on the hard ground just barely able to be heard in between the shouts of “Hosanna!”.  Was that bell I just heard in honor of His arrival? I see it, smell it, hear it, taste it all: the sun, high in the sky, shining brightly against an almost cloudless sky, illuminates Jesus’ almost glowing face as he smiles at the people lining his path. The disciples are grinning, too, albeit for different reasons. The cries welcoming Jesus as king bode well for their own future in whatever kingdom He is about to set up. The scene is one of cinematic perfection.

But the joy of that day was not to last.  Even before Jesus got into Jerusalem, the Jewish leaders were plotting and scheming for a way to get to Him because of His popularity. His raising Lazarus from the dead had been the final straw – they had to get rid of Jesus and Lazarus, both.  The leaders had turned Judas Iscariot, one of the 12 Disciples, into a double agent.  They secretly began to incite the crowds against Jesus.  And as they days passed by and as Passover drew closer, the Jewish leaders laid the groundwork for what would happen later in the week.  In only a few days, the joy of Palm Sunday would be shattered by the terror of Maundy Thursday and the horror of Good Friday.

But that was the whole reason that Christ came to earth and into Jerusalem 2000 years ago.  Jesus - who was, is, and always will be fully God - was humbled and made man.  St. Paul wrote in this morning’s Epistle lesson, “He made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of a man.  And being found in human form, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross” (v. 7-8). 

Jesus was born to die.  He lived to die.  Jesus entered Jerusalem to die – for the people who stood on the path waving palms and shouting Hosanna; for the disciples who didn’t really understand; for the leaders who plotted to kill Him; for the people who lived long before that day; and for you and I and everyone who has come since.  Christ came for all of us who have sinned against God and against man and against each other.

But, as surely as Christ was born to die, so also He died to live.  Everything from birth to grave - from Bethlehem to Golgotha was necessary so that Christ could die and then rise, having perfectly fulfilled God’s Law, living without sin, and becoming sin for us. He came to be our Savior.

I suspect that the crowd didn’t fully understand it, but they confessed it when they welcomed Him with the cry of Hosannah. I think we assume Hosannah means something like hooray, yeah, we’re number one – the kind of things we shout at a homecoming parade or when the team wins the Big One. Hosannah, or in Hebrew “Ya-sha’nah,” isn’t a victory cry. It’s the exact opposite. It’s a compound word: the main word, yasha, means Help, save, rescue us. The suffix, anna, implores, please. Help us, please. Save us, please. Rescue us, please.

When I give an answer that’s not exactly right, but it’s not exactly wrong either, my oldest daughter likes to say, “You’re not completely wrong, Dad.” The crowd isn’t completely wrong. Their motive may have been selfish, twisted and warped around an idea of social-political rescue, but their words are spot-on. They do need rescue, they do need saving – not from the Romans or the other socio-political threats, but from their own damning sins. They need this King of Kings and Lord of Lords, not to make Israel great again but to restore peace with God into eternity. They need the one who comes in the name of the Lord because He is the Lord God – fully God, fully man, who will surrender Himself to die.

They were calling out to the right Man. St. Paul writes that “God gave Him the name that is above every name” (v9).  God gave Him the name “Jesus.” The name Jesus in Hebrew, Yeshua, has the same root as Hosanna. Jesus means savior. They had it right without knowing it: It was as if they were crying out “Jesus us!”

It’s a cry we know all too well. I suspect we are saying those words, in one form or another, frequently and often these days. We know and feel the burden of guilt that weighs upon us from our own sins. I suspect in these days, living in the closeness of isolation with family, all that loving closeness sometimes gets a bit much. If your house is like mine, sometimes that closeness turns into friction and it blows up into words and actions that you don’t really mean or want to do but, in the heat of the moment with nerves frayed and feelings on edge, we hurt those whom we love the most. Perhaps you are lashing out at the civil authorities behind the pseudo-anonymity of social media, or maybe you yelled at the lady who got to close to you in the store or the guy who sneezed at the gas pump next to you and didn’t cover his mouth. Maybe the fears and worries are threatening to overwhelm you as you consider how to keep your family fed and a roof over your head when the economy is shrinking more and more each day. Maybe the news about this virus is such a burden that you just want it all to stop. Whatever it is, you turn to the heavens and call out on this Palm Sunday, Hosanna – save us! Jesus us, O Lord.

He hears your cry. This burden you fear is the entire reason Jesus came, remember? His Jerusalem entry was to rescue, to save. He’s a King heading to His throne of the cross; a King heading to His royal resting chamber of the tomb. All this to rescue, not from governments or social needs but from the eternal consequence of man’s fall into sin, of your own sins. Jesus hears. More than that, Jesus died; and, even more than that, Jesus rose, the full sin-debt paid in full.

These grey and latter days, do not forget this message: Jesus is the Victorious King! Because our salvation has been won, St. Paul continues, “That at the name of Jesus, every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (10-11). 

He is Jesus: Born in a stable, laid in a manger; raised in the humble surroundings of a carpenter’s shop by Joseph and Mary in Nazareth

He is Lord: The divine name.  Lord is the Old Testament [translation of the]  name of God – Yahweh Elohim, Lord God Almighty

He is Christ:  The Messiah.  The anointed one.  The Savior.  The One who is God and Man, and the One through His life and suffering and death, reconciled man to God by pouring Himself out on the cross for us.

On that first Palm Sunday, the people really didn’t understand why Christ came.  Why shouldn’t they welcome him? If He has that kind of power, surely He will be a great and grand leader, a king among kings, a David among Davids – and, why, look: He’s even riding a donkey, just as David did when he entered Jerusalem centuries earlier – the kind of ruler who will restore Israel to being its own nation instead of a vassal of the hated Roman Empire. To have a king who can feed the crowds with a boy’s lunch, to have a Messiah who can turn water into wine, to have a Savior who can turn back death…he would be the envy of every kingdom on earth. Their confession of “faith” was probably more socio-political improvement than heilsgeschichte – salvation from sins.  

But for Jesus, Palm Sunday was leading to the cross. For us, Palm Sunday leads us into Holy Week as we prepare to remember Christ’s Passion.

A lady stopped by last week and visited with me a little bit. She told me she has always loved Palm Sunday. I suspect she might be struggling this morning because she loved Palm Sunday with its celebration and singing. Next Sunday, Easter Sunday, we will celebrate Christ’s victory over death and the grave.  I imagine more of us will struggle with it as well. I admit – I’m having to pause and wrap my head around this over and over. It will be a different Holy Week this year. No doubt.

But, I had a thought the other day. We’ll be missing the pomp and circumstance. We won’t be together to sing Jesus Christ is Risen Today. Our cries of “Christ is risen” will be in our homes with our family or maybe just ourselves. Our Easter fellowship will be done by phone calls, text messages, and video chat.

But, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. It strips away everything else that gets in the way of Jesus. We won’t be worried about dresses or hitting the right notes in choral pieces. We won’t be concerned about hiding and finding Easter eggs. We won’t be frustrated about burned sausage or runny pancakes. What we will have is Jesus. And even now, on this Palm Sunday, separated by miles but joined by technology, even now Christ is already risen.

You know, there is another place in the Bible where palm branches are waved. The book of Revelation was God’s gift to a man who also was in exile, alone, separated from his beloved saints and congregation. St. John was given a vision, a picture of heaven and the resurrected Christ. One of the many things he sees is this: “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands,” - Revelation 7:9

Whether our reunion is here on earth on this holy hill of Zion, Mission Valley, or our reunion is at the heavenly Mount Zion, whether separated by distance or time until that day, may our cry continue to ring out with those saints of heaven: Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne and to the Lamb! (John 12 & Rev. 7) Amen.