“Hosanna” based on Psalm 118:1-4, 19-24 and Matthew 21:1-11
Within Christianity, we use “Hosanna” to express joy, and praise, and adoration. Just one little issue with that – the actual meaning of the word. Hosanna is a Hebrew word meaning “Save us, we pray!” The people around Jesus weren't shouting “Great is God” or “Jesus is good!” or “YAY, Jesus, YAY God!” Instead, they were shouting, “God, save us from our oppressor” which was clearly the Roman Empire, who – let's be honest – didn't appreciate that. “God, help us, the enemy is bigger than we can take on ourselves.” “God, we're in over our heads, help us out here!”
And, of course, they were shouting, “Save us, we pray” during a PASSOVER celebration, when Passover celebrates God's actions in saving the people from oppression in Egypt, which made the Roman Empire's representatives a “little bit” antsy.
The Roman Empire's representative Pontius Pilate was already coming to the city, like he did every year at Passover, with soldiers and fanfare meant to keep the Jewish people in check. The Roman Empire saw QUITE CLEARLY that getting a whole bunch of people together in the city to celebrate God's acts of freeing them from oppression was a tinderbox for revolt, and they sought to tamp it down with displays of power and reminders of their violent capacity. In fact, they came in from Pilate's normal abode on the Mediterranean – so from the West. With gleaming horses, and banners with the golden Eagle of Rome, with drums and the crowds shouting “Hail Caesar, son of God; Praise be to the Savior who brought the Roman Peace; Caesar is Lord….” the Empire sought to intimidate people out of revolt.
But.
Then there was Jesus. Jesus who seems to have let the crowd claim kingship of Ancient Israel on his behalf, which sometimes feels a little bit strange but is in the story nonetheless. The Palm branches were a flag of Israel- the opposite of the Golden Eagle. The donkey was expected to be ridden by the Messiah entering the city – but also is rather opposite a gleaming horse. The soldiers accompanied Pilate – while a large crowd of people impoverished by the Empire accompanied Jesus. And Instead of “Hail Caesar” the people shouted “God Save Us (from the empire).”
The Roman Empire took this Jesus parade as a significant threat.
I believe they were meant to. The protest made the violence of the Empire stand out. They crucified Jesus with the accusation “King of the Jews” above his head, as if this was the charge against him. And, after all, they shouldn't have killed the leader of a PEACEFUL revolt, only a violent one. But sometimes the authorities have a hard time telling the difference between violence and what scares them. (Still true today.)
Then, of course, Jesus did another PEACEFUL demonstration – this time managing to make visible the ways the Empire had put in place Temple leaders who were aligned with Empire and not God's people. That one many of us learned as the “Cleansing of the Temple.” John Dominic Crossan reflects on the “den of robbers” the Temple is said to be saying, “Notice, by the way, that a 'den' is not where robbers do their robbing but where they flee for safety with the spoils they have robbed elsewhere.” (God and Empire, 133.)
Jesus made clear the city of Jerusalem was where “conservative religion and imperial oppression – had become serenely complicit.” (131) And, he dies for it. Crossan says, “He did not go to get himself killed or to get himself martyred. Mark insists that Jesus knew in very specific detail what was going to happen to him – read Mark 10:33-34, for example – but that is simply Marks' way of insisting that all was accepted by both God and Jesus. Accepted, be it noted, but not willed, wanted, needed or demanded.” (131)
Beloveds, this Palm Sunday parade is one of the most brilliant acts of non-violent direct action I've ever heard of, but it is part of the story of why the Empire responded with violence. I can't hear the Palm Sunday story without knowing that it walks us to the Good Friday Crucifixion and the Holy Saturday grief and disillusion. They're all a part of this one story – that when you make clear the ways people are oppressing others, there is a fierce lash-back and the power of violence is immense. Thank God, that isn't the whole story – we get to Easter next week – but it is a real story, one that we can't dismiss.
This year, the Palm Sunday parade that walks Jesus into Jerusalem sounds terrifyingly like Nex Benedict walking into school on their last day. I can't separate out Jesus being faithful to God despite the consequences from gender-queer and non-binary people claiming their space in the world – despite the consequences. But, friends, it is sickening.
There is a story out there, one that says people are supposed to stay in tight little conformist boxes that help others make sense of the world and, heavens, the VIOLENCE that comes out when people speak up and say, “this box doesn't fit me.” And it can be such small stuff:
I'm a woman, but the box “quiet and gentle” doesn't fit me
or
I'm a man, but the box “stoic” doesn't' fit me
or
I'm a woman, but the box “looking for a man” doesn't' fit me
or
I'm a man, but the box “looking for a woman” doesn't' fit me
or
… the box “wants to have kids” doesn't fit me
or
… the box “monogamy” doesn't fit me
or
… the box “woman” doesn't fit me
or
… the box “man” doesn't fit me
or
… the box “gendered” doesn't fit me.
And, I mean, you all know this but... WHO CARES? They're all just silly little made up boxes that no one should be forced into and everyone should have the space to occupy, or adapt or not occupy as they see fit? Sure, some people want the world to be black and white without shades of gray – that everyone is cis-gendered, straight, sexual, and single raced ;) But, too bad because that's just not true.
And yet, the violence that comes when people try to force others back into the boxes they think they should live in – it reminds me of the violence of empire. There seem to be gleaming horses, loud drums, and shiny swords all over the place. And, worse, it isn't just the external violence that attacks people – the very people who are brave enough to leave their ill-fitting boxes behind end up internalizing the violence. They're courageous, they're clear, they know who they are and they won't go back to pretending to be otherwise – but that violence is so darn insidious, and it gets inside them. Those silly stories about how we're supposed to be are so poisonous. That human need for connection gets twisted around and turned against people. And the beautiful ones who are brave and unique and wonderful end up dead.
Jesus could have stayed out of Jerusalem, except he couldn't.
Nex could have pretend to have their gender assigned at birth, except they couldn't.
They couldn't. It would have been safer, easier, …. some would say wiser. But they couldn't.
Friends, as you know, the trans and queer communities around the country and world are aching for Nex and Nex's family and friends. Their death has reminded people of prior losses, of other brave and beautiful souls who also internalized the violence against them. The heartbreaks are everywhere.
This holy week, we will worship through the blessings of Jesus, the death of Jesus, the heartbreak of the disciples, and land on the wondrous reality that God's work can't be stopped by violence or death.
But how do we make sense of Nex? And the ones before them? And the ones after them? How do face the violence of the Empire today, and the ways it gets internalized?
There aren't easy asnwers.
We grieve.
And we share the aches with God.
And we name the problems with each other.
And we keep on learning how to undercut the broken narrative, and break open little boxes, and keep people safe when they leave them.
We aren't going to do it fast enough – we already haven't, but just because we can't do it immediately doesn't mean we can stop. Jesus showed us the power of violence to stop people, and the ways religion can become complicit with violence. And he paid for it, paid to teach us those lessons. But we have them! So, we know that God and love are more powerful than violence, and love is the way we respond. And we know that religion that oppresses isn't religion at all, and we shout it from the rooftops.
Hosanna.
God save us.
We pray.
Amen
Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady
March 24, 2024
2 notes
·
View notes
Brian Eno — FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE (UMC)
It’s only a major chord, that fundamental sonority first on the plate of every student of the Western European tradition. Luminous and warm in its somehow unfamiliar sterility, it concludes ForeverAndEverNoMore with an unambiguous moment of respite, a harnessing and dispersal of energy. The journey toward it is the point, or a series of points forming a path as lovely as it is circuitous.
This may be Eno’s most completely integrated use of sound and lyric. Yes, the album presents endlessly human concerns ranging from the environmental crisis to the ironies of self-makers and enforced labor, but there’s so much more in play, especially in the sounds themselves.
To suggest that Brian Eno is a moment-form composer would be to gild several lilies simultaneously while still addressing a pervasive musical characteristic. Sonically, these poetic soundscapes do what his recent work does but in miniature. His are neither the sequestered moments of 1960s Stockhausen nor the elastic instants of contemporaneous AMM, though he can do both when inclined. The Ship’s titular piece achieved this synthesis, while portions of Music for Airports juxtaposed them serially.
FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE is a distillation and an evolution. Like Another Day on Earth, it gathers and telescopes facets of Eno’s flirtation with the pop world, this time in a less overtly rhythmic but timbrally diverse syntax more like that on The Ship or Reflections. Take in the swirling colors fading in and out of focus as “There Were Bells” laments its way forward, birds and accordions somehow alien in the constantly ebbing and flowing tides of cognition and recognition. Recurrent and aperiodic sound-points in “Garden of Stars” contrast with the pulses inherent to “Sherry’s modified piano timbre. A second formal consideration allows that labeling the pieces as miniatures may not even constitute the best path toward considering Eno’s gemmy utterances. Like two mini-dramas in search of each other, each half of the album ends with an instrumental, the first terrifying in its cosmic import, the second somehow both blissfully alien and endlessly human, the distorted speech floating along and gently propelling the wafting harmonies.
No formal or structural conjecture addresses the album’s calmly executed and often overwhelming viscerality. The first two tracks present both micro and macrocosm in stark juxtaposition, from the one-celled organism to the blinding sky nourishing regret-tinged golden fields even as they burn. The third and fourth pieces pull eons back, into the universe’s darkest reaches and beyond, exposing star-gate and star-child in turn in seas of drone and piercing luminosity. The album’s second half finds Eno in ballad and torch-song mode, nostalgic vapor pervading each line and fragmented reminiscence. War and youth, instants of travel immortalized and cast in shiny metal float and perch atop the intimacies of pianos in Romantic harmonic exhortation. The album is full of the small noises and cosmic visions that encapsulate life, death, microbe and universe, a tick of time, like a chord, both stark and larger than itself, establishing and destroying its boundaries. This all-in-all unity gives the album astonishing power and a uniquely familiar beauty.
Marc Medwin
11 notes
·
View notes