Hosanna - Advent and Lent

The word ‘Hosanna’ originally meant “help us!” but later came to be an expression of praise. This paradoxical dialectic reflects a moment when desperation turns to celebration: when our ugent panicked need dissolves as we see our salvation approaching.

In the history of nations, as well as in the story of each individual human life, symbols of great distress become symbols of great joy, when that distress is relieved.

The ultimate instance of this two-sided symbolism, when what could have been the worst disaster becomes the greatest triumph in a pivotal moment, is the cross: it is a symbol of shame and horrific pain; but after the resurrection, it is the symbol of liberation and forgiveness.

The word ‘Advent’ means ‘arrival’ and points simultaneously to the birth of Jesus, two thousand years ago, and to His future “advent” at the end of time. For this reason, Jesus followers speak of living in the “already” but at the same time in the “not yet.”

Between these two advents, Jesus arrives many times, in the hearts of individuals, and in the grand events of history. The notion of preparing a way for the Lord (Isaiah 40:3) applied first when He rescued the captives from Babylon, then for the start of His public ministry at the time of John the Baptist, and later for His celebrated entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

Preparing the way for the Lord continues every year during the season of Advent, and every day in the hearts of individuals. Finally, the way is being prepared for the His arrival at the end of time.

Advent was originally a season of fasting, but in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has become also a time of celebration. Both are appropriate; both are contained in the concept of Advent.

God is so great, filling time and space, that He encompassses opposites - or what seem to our finite minds like opposites. (One might say that God is a Hegelian.) Jesus rides on a donkey (Zechariah 9:9), symbolizing peace; He also rides on a horse (Revelation 19:11), symbolizing war.

The dialectic continues as we read that God is “mighty in battle” (Psalm 24:8), but brings a peace which means that men will not “train for war anymore” (Isaiah 2:4).

Crowds wave palm branches for Jesus, a symbol of royalty (John 12:13); but Jesus is also a servant (Matthew 20:28).

Lent, which leads up to Maundy Thursday, and therefore up to Passover, again embraces these opposites. The observation begins with the misery of being slaves in Egypt, with the harrowing experience of the “angel of death” moving about, and with narrow escapes at several points during the Exodus narrative. But anguish and fear turns to joy as the celebration puts these events into a retrospective, and the celebrants thank God for the gift of freedom.

God’s liberating action is not limited to the Exodus from Egypt. He freed the captives from Babylon. He frees people from sin and its consequences. Liberating language permeates Scripture: “I will set your prisoners free” (Zechariah 9:11).

Psalm 118 is part of a Passover liturgy. The Hebrew language allows for a marvelous understanding: “This is the day which the Lord has made, and we will rejoice and be glad in” Him. The common translation of being “glad in it” is correct; we can often be glad “in” a day. But it is also true, and sometimes preferable to say, that we can be glad “in” God.

Some days are filled with suffering and pain, and it is unlikely that we would be glad “in” those days. But even in such days, we can be glad “in” God. This is another dialectic of opposites: we can have peace even when we are grieving - a peace that will ultimately lead to joy - a “peace that passes all understanding” (Philippians 4:7) - a peace that comes only from God.

In the life of each human, there are phases of captivity. The metaphor of captivity includes economic, psychological, relational, and other types of imprisonment. We cry “Hosanna” begging for liberation; we cry “Hosanna” celebrating that liberation. At a pivotal moment, our cry for help turns into a shout of praise.

What Jesus Does

Everywhere, all the time, Jesus is active. He’s doing things. He never stops. Yet so often we don’t notice His energy.

Learning to watch God’s unfolding plans in the world, all over the world, is a spiritual skill - an art or a science. The more we study Scripture, and the more we talk about Scripture with others who study it, the better we become at noticing God.

Our senses become more finely attuned to detecting God as we spend more time alone, in silent prayer and meditation: not our five physical senses, but the ability of our hearts and minds to identify God’s work.

While Jesus was doing His earthly ministry, He often spent times in “solitary places” (Mark 1:35, 6:32) or “desolate places” to meditate. He did this, in part, to be a role model for us - to show us the importance of these quiet times.

After His ascension (Acts 1:9), things are different: Jesus seems to be on the move all the time. As Greg Finke writes:

Jesus is on a mission. He is on a grand adventure to redeem and restore human lives to the kingdom of his Father. This is nothing new. Ever since he broke out of the tomb on Easter Sunday, Jesus has been on the loose, pursuing his redemptive mission, messing with people, ripening people, preparing people to be drawn back to the Father he loves. It’s what he does.

We, however, are ordinary flesh-and-blood human beings. We need those quiet times - and they need to be truly quiet. Not only do we need to turn of the radio and the cell phone, but we need to turn off the endless stream of thoughts, concerns, and desires which course through our minds.

Our meditation can take different forms. Sometimes it includes remembering or processing past events, as in Psalm 143:

I remember the days of old;
I meditate on all that you have done;
I ponder the work of your hands.

God’s plan is unfolding twenty-four hours a day, all over the world. In meditation, we can do a slow motion replay of God’s work, because our minds can’t move as fast as His. We can notice his activity by remembering what He’s done - for us or for others - in the past.

As we reflect both on God’s written word and on His actions, we can synthesize the two, and He blesses us with a grander view and a deeper insight, as in Psalm 119:

Make me understand the way of your precepts,
and I will meditate on your wondrous works.

Jesus is in constant motion, doing amazing things. But we’ll miss much of His action if we don’t take the time to study His word together, and spend time in quiet meditation alone.

Paul Tells Timothy to Meditate

In Paul’s first letter to Timothy, he includes an imperative to “meditate.” The Greek verb here can be understood as ‘premeditate, imagine, practice,” and has been rendered as ‘occupy one’s self, be careful about’ and ‘attend to, care for, ponder.’

In addition to the lexical meaning, it is to be noted that Paul uses the second person singular. This is an individual and personal activity for Timothy. The text reads:

Meditate upon these things; give yourself wholly to them; so that all may see your progress.

Paul is encouraging solitary times of meditation, prayer, and study by using the singular imperative instead of the plural. This is a counterbalance to Timothy’s ministry among the people in his area.

Paul is relaying the example set by Jesus, who likewise balanced His solitary time against time spent among large crowds and small groups. The lesson for the reader is clear: it’s good to spend time in fellowship, and it’s good to spend time alone. Both are necessary.