25 O LORD, save us; O LORD, grant us success.
- Psalm 118:25, The New International Version, (Grand Rapids, MI:
Zondervan Publishing House) 1984.
In the name of Christ Jesus, dear friends:
If you glanced up at the upper left corner of the page during the hymn we just sang, you might have been confused. Or you might have thought that I was confused. Hymn #134 falls under the heading, “Palm Sunday.” “O Bride of Christ, Rejoice” is a good Palm Sunday hymn, but Palm Sunday was last Sunday. We sang ours hosannas to our triumphant king. We even had a special service that featured the Hosanna Choir.
So did I make a mistake? Are there so many services during Holy Week that I somehow got the hymns mixed up? No, I specifically chose this Palm Sunday hymn for Maundy Thursday because it fits so well with the sermon text for this evening.
The opening words of this text are a heartfelt exclamation. Our English Bibles give us the full translation of a Hebrew word, a word that Christians know very well, the same word we sang and prayed last Sunday, “hosanna.”
“Hosanna” was sung by the Jews every year as they observed
the Passover. “Hosanna” was shouted by
the crowds when Jesus rode through the streets of
Tonight as we continue our Lenten journey, as we follow our Savior in the psalms, as we remember Jesus’ last supper before his death and prepare to celebrate his Supper with each other, that ancient Hebrew word of praise is on our lips once again...
Hosanna In The Highest
I. It is still our fervent plea
II. It is still our joyful blessing
Whenever words are translated from one language into
another, there is a chance that something will be lost in the translation. You might be able to translate exactly word
for word but still lose some of the nuance and meaning of the original
language. This could be said of the
opening verse of the text: “O Lord, save us; (118:25).
These words are short and sweet. And they clearly communicate a thought. But the English doesn’t really capture the passion of the Hebrew. The word translated “O” is an interjection. It indicates that the present situation is serious. How serious? In some places in the Old Testament, it was a matter of life and death.
Joseph’s brothers used this word when they begged him not take revenge after their father Jacob died (Genesis 50:17). Moses used this little word when he pleaded with the Lord not to destroy the Israelites after they built and bowed down to a golden calf (Exodus 32:31). The same word was the first word the sailors prayed as they were about throw Jonah overboard to save themselves from the storm (Jonah 1:14).
So why did the Holy Spirit lead the psalmist to use this power-packed word? What was so pressing? What was so urgent? He knew that he was in trouble. He knew that he needed help. And he cried out to the Lord: “Hosanna!” “Lord, save us!”
Hosanna is a plea to be rescued. And again, our simple translation can’t quite capture the emotion and even the desperation in this plea. There is in this Hebrew word a feeling of being trapped in a corner with no way to escape. Danger and evil are pressing in closer and closer. They are smothering, suffocating, squeezing their fingers tighter and tighter around our necks.
All we can think about is being somewhere else, somewhere far away, a place that is wide and spacious, a place where there is no danger as far as the eye can see. We long to be saved. We long to be safe, not just protected, but free from any threat at all. “Hosanna! Lord save us!” That is our fervent plea.
With this understanding, “hosanna” is a perfect fit for the Passover. Before the first Passover (3,500 years ago), the Egyptian pharaoh made the lives of the Israelites more and more miserable as he hardened his heart. He refused to listen to Moses. He refused to be moved even as the Lord sent plague after plague on the land.
And when the children of
It is really no surprise, then, that this psalm became a
part of the annual Passover festival celebration. For hundreds of years, God’s people sang
these words as they remembered how God miraculously rescued them from certain
death. It is very likely that Jesus and
his disciples sang this psalm just before they set out for the
Only a few days earlier, the crowds echoed the words of this
psalm as Jesus entered
But there was another enemy they needed to beware of, a much
more dangerous enemy, the twin evils of sin and unbelief. These enemies had their grasp on more than
What about us? When we sing our “hosannas,” do we sing them with a sense of urgency? Do we feel the need to utter such a fervent plea? Do we feel that our situation is so hopeless that the only thing we can do is cry out: “Lord, save us?”
Or are we doing okay? Is the sin in our lives something we have to deal with, but we have things pretty much under control? If God would compare us with suicide bombers and mass murderers and dishonest co-workers and rowdy neighbors, wouldn’t he at the very least give us a passing grade?
This is God’s answer: “Be perfect, therefore, as your
heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew
God’s law tells a very different story. It tells us that “whoever keeps the whole
law and stumbles at yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of
it” (James 2:10). And our pile of
sins gets a little higher. It says that “anyone
who hates his brother is a murderer” (I John
And then we are reminded that we are guilty before God not only when we do what he forbids, but also when we fail to do what God commands. And what we thought was just a small mound of imperfections becomes a huge mountain, a mountain of sin that buries us, a mountain that we can never get out from under.
That means we have every reason to sing “hosanna” with a sense of urgency as we prepare to receive Communion this evening. It was no accident that led our forefathers to bring these Old Testament words, words that were sung for centuries at the Passover, into the Christian liturgy of the Lord’s Supper. “Hosanna!” Lord, save us!” Because we are still sinners, that is still our fervent plea.
When help is on the way, our calls for help tend to take on a different tone. Desperation gives way to excitement and even joy. We might still shout, “Help. Help. Over here,” but there is less fear and more anticipation in our voices. It is the same when we sing “Hosanna in the highest!” Our fervent plea becomes a joyful blessing.
“Blessed is he comes in the name of the Lord. From the house of the Lord we bless you” (Psalm 118:26). When we bless Jesus, we aren’t blessing him in the sense that we have anything to give him or that we have any way to improve his life. Our blessing of God is an expression of praise, our small way of acknowledging the great things he has done for us.
Really the blessings are all ours because Jesus comes “in the name of the Lord.” He comes in response to our cries for help. The nation of Israel had seen its share of self-appointed messiahs. They claimed to come in God’s name, but none of them were real. Not one of them had a divine call. Not a single one of them had a divine mission.
Only Jesus came with the Father’s full support. Only Jesus
came with the Father’s full authority.
Only Jesus came to earth to fulfill the Father’s divine mission: to
forgive sins and rescue people from death.
The Palm Sunday throngs didn’t understand the full impact of their words,
but they were right on when they shouted: “Blessed is he who comes in the
name of the Lord.”
Those words put God’s stamp of approval upon everything Jesus said and suffered during Holy Week. Those words remind us that the events of this week are not just dramatic and moving stories. Those words declare that in Jesus’ suffering and death and resurrection, the Lord has answered our pleas to save us from our sins.
Again, it is not too difficult to see why the early church connected these words with the Lord’s Supper. Tonight Jesus comes to us, but not riding through city streets on a donkey. We lift our eyes to the Communion table as the pastor removes the coverings, and we see that Jesus is coming to us again.
The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world is coming right here, right now to assure you that he has taken your guilt away. With the bread and wine, Jesus gives you his body and blood for the forgiveness of your sins.
When Jesus comes to you in this Supper, he is still the one who comes in the name of the Lord. When Jesus tells you that your sins are forgiven, they are forgiven. When Jesus tells you that God loves you, then God loves you. When Jesus claims you to be his own, then you are his own.
There is no question. There is no doubt. The certainty of God’s promises in this sacrament is a joyful blessing.
As we approach the Lord’s altar this evening, we must remember that we are not doing something for God. We are not just obeying his command. We are not just memorializing his death. Tonight Jesus comes to us. He comes to us individually. He comes to us personally. He comes in response to our calls for help: “Hosanna! Lord, save us!”
And our Savior does not respond just once. Jesus comes to us again and again. He comes to us with his saving gifts every time we partake of his Supper. He answers our fervent pleas. He fills us with joyful blessings. Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest! Amen.