all hail

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Lent 6 – Becoming Human: Shaped by Worship

Gospel text: Matthew 21:1-11

Eric Massanari

“all hail”

. . . at the name of Jesus

every knee should bend,

in heaven and on earth

and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess

that Jesus Christ is Lord

to the glory of God

who is our Father/who is our Mother.

When I hear those words

from the Christ hymn of Philippians,

especially alongside the story of Jesus'

final procession into the city of Jerusalem,

I think of a hymn we often

sang in my childhood church,

“All hail the power of Jesus' name.”

[sing WB#106, v.1]

The hymn has the tone of a march,

and this particular musical setting

bears the name CORONATION—

the ritual act of placing

a crown on the head of someone

who has ascended to the highest office,

such as the throne of a king or queen.

This hymn also appears in our hymnal

with another musical setting (see WB#285).

This is the one I recall singing most often

in my home church, with the women's and men's

voices breaking off in different directions

in the third and fourth stanzas.

This, too, has a march-like quality to it,

suggesting a royal parade or procession.

The name of this musical setting is DIADEM,

which means a crown or royal headband.

All hail the power of Jesus' name!

To hail in this sense means to venerate,

to reverence, to salute someone

who has ascended to a position

of esteem, power and authority.

In Jesus' time it was used as an address

to honor the Emperor: “Hail, Caesar!”

In mid-20^th century Germany it

was the address and salute of Nazi's

when they greated one another: “Heil, Hitler!”

In our own nation it is the piece

of music played when our president

is about to make a formal address:

“Hail to the Chief.”

Or, if one is in England,

“Hail, all hail the queen.”

It is the formal way to address

rulers and royalty.

I noticed that on the cover of Newsweek magazine

this week there is a close-up photo

of the face of Catherine Elizabeth Middleton,

who will soon marry William Arthur Philip Louis Windsor,

the son of Prince Charles and Diana,

the grandson of the Queen of England.

The cover of the magazine read:

Kate the Great: In a world gone to hell—thank God, a wedding

Thank God!

Something elegant, something extravagant,

and exquisite to lift us all above the fray

and take our minds off the mess

that the world seems to be in right now.

What a relief! A royal wedding!

Royalty seems to have that effect on us.

There is something about it

that seems other-than, apart-from,

and in some way immune to the

blood, sweat and tears so many live by.

Royalty represents the possibility of a great escape.

So, what kind of king is Jesus?

So, what does it mean to hail him?

And why would we bend at the knee,

literally or figuratively,

or shout a loud hail or hosanna,

merely at the mention of his name?

When he enters the royal city

of his ancestors he seems a very strange king!

Instead of the rich and famous and powerful

placing him on a throne of glory,

he is welcomed to the city by the ordinary folk,

who put their tunics on the ground in honor of him.

Instead of a war horse, he sits on a donkey.

Instead of regal clothing or a crown,

he winds up naked and with thorns on his head.

Rather than ascend, he seems to descend.

Rather than seize power, he appears to abdicate it,

Jesus, as king, may have a great lineage,

but his path is the inverse of his ancestor David.

There is no great escape here,

no lifting the people above the fray

and the pain of life—Jesus moves directly into it.

As he enters the city, the people cry,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Perhaps the sentiments of the moment

are something akin to that Newsweek cover;

“Here comes royalty!

Here comes someone

who will lift us above this mess.

A king, a ruler, a prophet

with the power to save.”

We might remember what happens

immediately after Jesus enters the

city according to Matthew;

amidst all of the accolades

he heads directly to the temple mount,

enters the temple,

and proceeds to literally turn the tables

on the moneychangers and shopkeepers

who have set up their businesses there.

It is not relief Jesus is bringing

to the royal city of David.

As it has always been throughout

his preaching, teaching, healing work,

it is revelation and remembrance

of something that has been forgotten and lost.

“Remember whose house this temple is!

Remember the purpose for which it was made.

Remember whose you are!

Remember the purpose for which you were made.”

For some, such truth-telling and remembrance

brings relief, while for others is elicits fear

and resentment and violent reaction.

If the people are wanting to elevate Jesus

above their own circumstances and troubles,

Jesus will have nothing to do with it.

If they are wanting a ruler who will

sit in majesty above the fray

and handle things from a safe distance,

he refuses such a role.

However, in the story world of Matthew,

this has yet to be fully revealed to them.

They have yet to see where this royal road

covered in tunics and leafy branches ultimately leads.

Matthew knows.

So does Paul when he describes Jesus as the one

who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—

even death on a cross.

This, according to the Apostle Paul,

is the reason for “hailing” or bowing to Christ.

And what's more,

Paul begins this statement by saying:

Let this very same mind of Christ,

be your mind.

We honor Christ not because he embodies an exclusive truth, a truth that pertains only to him. We bow to Christ because he reveals the most inclusive of truths, the truth we have forgotten or lost sight of within us and between us as an earth community, that the very elements of our being and the whole universe come directly from God's being.

- from J. Philip Newell, Christ of the Celts: The Healing of Creation

We reverence Christ,

because of the way

he causes us to remember

the truth of who we are

and the holy temple that the world is.

What the church today needs

(and what the world needs from the church)

is not a higher and more distant view of Christ,

but a much more grounded, earthy vision of Christ,

the one who helps us remember the truth of who we are:

That we are made of God and for God;

that our mind can be the mind of Christ.

This world – from palm branches,

to the earth beneath our feet,

to the air that fills each breath,

is made of God

and for God.

And from the beginning

God has called this “good.”

All hail Christ,

who recalls in us

that goodness,

and calls out of us

the transforming love

that is the very heart

of the one whom we hail and follow. AMEN