Hosanna! Understanding the Significance of Palm Sunday

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

Traditionally Palm Sunday is a day we experience contradictions. We parade with palms and celebrate the day Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, the capital, the place from where God reigns over the kingdom of Israel and near the end our hopes are dashed as we recount the death of Jesus by reading the Passion. There is a movement in the church to end this practice and it is a movement that I support. Palm Sunday highlights an important piece of the story of Jesus, and an important component of what it means to be his disciple, but that component gets overshadowed by the emphasis placed on his death.

When Jesus arrives at Jerusalem he has been spreading his message of love for three long years. He has healed the sick, cast out demons, raised the dead, but more importantly he has questioned the status quo. He has questioned the authority of Rome, he has questioned the authority of the temple, and he has questioned the authority of his listeners’ hearts. No one is spared and nor should they be because Jesus was not sent to be the voice of God for just one group, the right group, Jesus was sent to be the voice for ALL.

On the first Palm Sunday, which was not a Sunday, Jesus descends from the hills surrounding the city greeted by thousands of inhabitants shouting Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest! Or something like it. Hosanna is an Aramaic word that literally means “Save (help), I pray!” and it only appears in the gospels in relationship to this moment in time. The shouting of Hosana is a sign that the people are ready, they are ready for something different, they are ready to be out from under the thumb of the Roman emperor, they are ready to be out from under the oppressive rules of the temple, but are they truly ready for what these hopes will cost?

As the procession of palms enters Jerusalem from the east, another procession is entering through the west gate. Pontious Pilot has arrived with his legions to ensure that the city remain calm during Passover. Thousands of Hebrews descend on Jerusalem every year for the observance of Passover and Pilot is not going to take any chances of there being trouble due to recent grumblings of rebellion. So here we have two distinctly different processions, one that represents joy and hope; and one that represents authority and oppression. They meet, symbolically, in the middle in Jerusalem, a city which is described by Matthew as a city in turmoil.

So here we are, in the year 2026, symbolically recreating the procession from the east, calling and praying for God to Save us; but from what do we need to be saved? While some, as attested to by the No Kings marchers, argue that we need to be saved from government oppression, that is not it because that is a human matter. Jesus did not save the Hebrew people from the authority of Rome or even the temple and his death and ultimate resurrection are not about the political turmoil humanity creates for itself; it is about hoping in the possibility that some day we will be able to reconcile the turmoil that is within each of us.

The events we remember today and throughout Holy Week were real. We know this because they are in the historical record and I don’t just mean they are in the gospels. Our remembrance of them is consistent with our Hebrew roots as a faith tradition, but let’s not mistake remembrance for meaning. While we remember these events, we must also do the hard work of allowing the meaning of these events to renew and change us.

The turmoil in Jerusalem nearly 2,000 years ago was due to civic unrest caused by the juxtaposition to Imperial authority, temple authority, and this new guy spreading a cryptic message of love. For just a moment, try to picture the events of that day. You are standing in front of your house and from one direction you hear trumpets announcing the arrival of the Roman legions, and from the other direction you hear people shouting Hosana, save us! You have heard the trumpets of Rome many times and are used to them, so you turn your attention toward the east and wonder what all of this hubbub is about, then you realize it is about that guy Jesus who has been saying some pretty radical things, like love your neighbor, but on some level that makes sense to you and you want to hear more; but you also know that the priests don’t like this guy and have told you all to stay away. So, what do you do? Do you listen to the people in charge and stay away? Do you go hear what he has to say? Or do you go about your day and mind your own business because you have kids to feed and work to do? This decision is not an easy one, it creates conflict in you. On the one hand you are busy and need to get to work, but on the other hand you like some of what you have heard about Jesus and want to go listen? You feel conflicted, your thoughts are in turmoil.

The celebration of Jesus entry into Jerusalem is not just about the historical events, it is a reminder to us that the turmoil caused for the people who experienced it is the same turmoil that lives in us every single day. We are all Jerusalem on that day. We live in the turmoil, striving to be faithful to God’s command to love, while faced with neighbors who are frankly just jerks, which is not a strong enough word, but I leave it to your imagine the words I would like to use.

We are consistently and constantly bombarded with the opinions and actions of people who appear to hate their neighbors, who clearly only care about how everything affects them. We are told that we need to be civically active, that we must obey the law, that we must pay our taxes. We are consistently disregarded by our employers as we slave away to ensure that they make money or in the non-profit world to ensure that government or donors’ money isn’t being wasted. All of these things, are nothing more than the Roman and temple authorities of our time and the pressure we feel from these external sources is very real and is often in conflict with what Jesus teaches us, creating internal conflict and turmoil.

How can we be faithful followers of Jesus, a people who seek to love all people when human existence is so messy? We start with Hosana! Save me I pray! And then we gather around a table and share a meal, because when we are sharing a meal, we can forget about all those other things; this is what we do on Maundy Thursday.

After our meal we take some time to think about from what we wished to be save. What is the one thing we want to change about ourselves and we ask God to help us and they will; but only if we believe they will. We call this concept placing our burdens at the foot of the cross and it is what we do on Good Friday.

Having placed our burden on the cross and we allow that burden to die with Jesus, because that is what it is all about. It is about God carrying our burdens with us and for us, so that they are no longer burdens. Once we have done that, they are buried with Christ and if we truly allow them to be buried, they will no longer be a burden; and we will still be here as a resurrected people. As people who, because of their faith, were able to let go of the turmoil, if only for a few moments.

The cycle of turmoil, death, and resurrection is not a one time thing, it is a cycle that is repeated time and time again, and it is a cycle we are called to repeat every day of our lives, which is why we gather as a community week after week in a sanctuary from the turmoil of the world, to break bread, and to celebrate the resurrection of Christ Jesus.

My invitation to use all is to enter Holy Week with the intention of fully immersing ourselves in this process so when we gather on Easter morning the resurrection holds new meaning for us all.

The Role of Boundaries in Spiritual Transformation during Lent

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

Boundaries are a significant part of modern life. For some they play a vital role in maintaining a sense of control and for others they are a challenge to their sense of control. This concept is heightened by the fact that we live in America, a nation built on the idea that boundaries are meant to be broken. In 1893, historian Frederick Jackson Turner, outlined his argument that it had been the frontier, or the boundary between the known and unknown, that had defined American character and democracy. To that point he argued Americans had always identified with the possibilities that lied beyond the boundary and that our desire to know what lies beyond shaped us and instilled a sense of curiosity in the unknown as well as a willingness to cross established boundaries to satisfy that curiosity. Whether it be the Appalachian line drawn by the King in 1763, the countless barriers placed in front of the civil rights of all citizens, or the race to put a man on the moon, Americans have always seen boundary’s, not as a limitation, but as a challenge.

For Adam and Eve, the boundary was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the serpent was their own curiosity. If God did not want creation to have such knowledge then they would not have created the knowledge in the first place, nor would they have placed it within arm’s reach; I do not believe that the creator of the universe didn’t know that Adam and Eve would eventually eat the forbidden fruit, nor do I believe that God placed the restriction on eating the fruit as some cosmic test. Ultimately this story is just a story that reveals something about human nature. It reveals that when faced with a boundary we have the ability to cross the line, indicating that we have free will, which is vitally important because just as we can choose to ignore boundaries, we can also choose to love.

Prior to the fruit tree incident, Adam and Eve had no reason to fear God; they had no reason to fear anything. But once they ate, they learned the truth, which is that life is hard. They learned about hunger, thirst, pain, and death for the first time. They learned that God had been protecting them from the burden of free will by not denying it to them, but by putting off their loss of innocence for as long as possible. By delaying this inevitable weight of self-determination, the Creator allowed them to remain in a state of grace until they were ready to become the masters of their own destiny. The transition from the Garden to the wilderness was not merely a change in geography; it was a shift in consciousness. In the Garden, boundaries were external, a physical tree and a spoken command, but once that line was crossed, the boundary became internalized. Humanity moved from a state of passive being to a state of active becoming.

We trade the safety of the Garden for the dignity of the “Hard Life” every time we choose to grow. We accept the hunger and the toil because we refuse to be mere spectators in our own lives. We are a people of the frontier, defined not by the fences we build to keep the world out, but by our courage to look past them and ask what lies beyond. In our national history and our spiritual journey, we find that the boundary is not a wall; it is a horizon. It exists to define the moment of our next great choice, reminding us that to be truly human is to stand at the edge of the unknown and decide to step forward.

As we continue our journey through Lent, we find ourselves in our own version of the wilderness, standing between the comfort of what we know and the transformation of what is to come. Lent is, in many ways, a season of intentional boundaries like fasting, discipline, and self-restraint, but these are not meant to imprison us. Rather, like the frontier, these forty days serve as a perimeter that helps us define who we are when the distractions are stripped away. In the wilderness of Lent, we walk the same path Adam and Eve trod when they left the Garden: a path where hunger and thirst are real, but where the opportunity to rely on God’s grace is even more tangible. We use this season to examine the lines we have crossed in error and the new boundaries we must cross in faith, moving ever closer to the ultimate “boundary-breaking” event of the Resurrection.

Finding God in a Troubled World: Lessons from Micah and the Beatitudes

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

In the past few weeks, I have found it increasingly difficult to balance my emotions with my hopes for the world. As a history teacher I am acutely aware of the barbarity humanity has inflicted and continues to inflict on itself. Time and time again one group of humans has sought to declare themselves superior to others; we have created norms and laws that cement those beliefs, but over time those values bend, and ultimately break due to the strain placed on them by the people who resist the barbarity. I am not going to take us down the path of remembering what we have all learned in history class, instead I draw our attention to the words of Micah.

            Micah was a prophet, his job was not to predict the future, but to point out where the Israelites had strayed from the path God has set before them. He begins by invoking creation, “Rise, plead your case before the mountains, and let the hills hear your voice” this is to remind us that creation has witnessed it all. It has witnessed the entirety of human history; it has witnessed our rejection of God’s call to love; it has witnessed our moments of tenderness and inclusion; it has witnessed the things God has done for their creation. Micah then reminds his readers of those very things, the release from Egyptian bondage, the sending of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam to help us understand the kind of society God desires for us. He protected us from the curses of enemies, by turning them into blessings. This heritage defines us as people of God; it tells us that from the beginning God has been and is present among their people. Micah ends by telling us something that would have been harder to hear in his time, he says that God doesn’t want us to bow before them; make burnt-offerings; pour out rivers of oil; or give up our first born for our sins. God has said, through Moses, through Aaran, through Miriam, and now through Micah that they want nothing more than for us to do justice, to be kind, and to walk with God in humility. The only sacrifice God requires is the sacrifice of sin because it is sin that stands in the way of justice and kindness and humility.

            Matthew is echoing the message of Micah in his recounting of the beatitudes. There are many ways to interpret these famous lines, but the one I like the most is that the first four remind us of the different and most common ways that humanity suffers. We endure sadness, we, at times, feel abandoned by God, we, at times, adopt a sense of helplessness in the face of apparent authority, all the while hoping it could be different, but not believing it could be. The last five lines point us to the very things Micah pointed to as things that God does and desires for us, mercy, humility, and justice. Collectively the beatitudes are a reminder that God is with us through it all and if we can hold on to that then the glory of God’s kingdom in heaven will be revealed, we will find comfort, our thirst for justice will be filled, and we will see God among us.

            It is difficult to see God in the world right now. It is difficult to see them among us as children are traumatized by the arrest of their parents or even themselves; it is difficult to see God among us as faithful people are gunned down while seeking the very justice God asks us to pursue. It is difficult to see God among us as we fight over government spending, or policies designed to ensure that all people are treated justly and humanely. It is difficult to see God among us as our neighbors freeze to death because communities ‘can’t afford’ to provide a warm space. It is difficult to see God among us when every day there are multiple news story about the lack of Justus, the want of kindness, and absence of mercy, which is why I know I have been finding it difficult to balance my emotions with my hopes for the world; but hope is not lost.

            Hope is not lost because history tells us that God’s love always wins over the sins of humanity. God’s people were freed from slavery, they were comforted, they received mercy, and their desire for justice was fulfilled and the same will be true again, but how does knowing this help us now?

            A key and unspoken component of Micah’s message and the beatitudes is that we must believe that God’s vision and hope for creation is possible and we must accept that we as individuals are not the solution, but we are a part of it. Jesus called us to be the church, to be his body in the world. A body that is imbued with the power of the Holy Spirit and empowered by God to act in their name as we seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with them. Walking with God, means that we are walking with each other, it means that we are aware of each other’s plights and even if we can’t help each other solve our problems, we can at least make sure we don’t make things worse. Walking with God means seeking to comfort and protect the oppressed in the ways the oppressed ask us to; it means speaking out when our fellow human beings are putting their beliefs about the world ahead of the humanity of their neighbors; it means respecting the dignity of every human being by putting their humanity before our political, cultural, and economic motivated views of them as “the other”; it means stepping back from the fray and asking where God is and accepting that if we can’t answer that question then perhaps we are the problem because as followers of Christ Jesus where we go, God goes.

            Clinging to God’s vision for creation, as best as we can perceive it; gathering as a community of faith to remind ourselves of God’s vision and command to love; and engaging in spiritual practices that remind us that God walks with us; and trusting that despite humanities best efforts to interfere with God’s plans, God always finds a way to work through us to bring an end to injustice. This was true in the time of Moses, in the time of Micah, in the time of Jesus, and it is true today. We need only believe that it is true and do our best to help or at least not get in the way. Amen.