Keep Praying Hosannas ~ Save Us

 

Yesterday we sang, “Hosanna,” which means, “save us.”  This one word might feel like sandpaper to our cultural soul because we believe, worship/sacrifice, at the altar of self-sufficiency.  We preach a “gospel” of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.  We idealize the myth of being self-made ~ you may want to touch your belly button right now to remember you exist because your mother carried you for nine months ~ you are because your parents were/are.  Where does the word, “Hosanna” fall from your lips this morning, stir your heart, swirl in your soul?  Save us.  I think right now of people in our culture who are losing their jobs.  Save us.  I think of the wildfires, hurricanes, tornados, and flooding that ravage communities and cause tears to fall from our eyes.  Save us.  I think of how we live the line from Wicked, “There is a strange exhilaration in such loathing.”  And from Hamilton, “If we win our independence is that a guarantee of freedom for our descendants…or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants?”  That line cuts right to the heart of this week.  Does Jesus, who is God’s love incarnate (in the flesh) cause us to repent of our violent and death dealing ways?  Does Jesus, God’s love incarnate who willingly/openly/vulnerably faces the cross – death – cause us to question how we still scapegoat (that is blame and shame those people)?   Save us.  Because the gospel of the news cycle says that we continue to yell and proclaim that someone else is the problem, so we can stay comfortable in our status quo.  Jesus’ death put to death the notion that we can kill our way to peace.  And yet wars persist in the Ukraine and the Middle East and the Sudan and right here in our own country where we are unable or unwilling to love our neighbor.  After Jesus served a meal to the very people who would deny and desert and betray him ~ wait…you missed that.  Go back and read how Jesus’ love was served to the very people he broke open his whole life and shared God’s unconditional love unceasingly with – then they ran out the door.  After the meal Matthew tells us:

 

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, “Abba, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want.” Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Again he went away for the second time and prayed, “Abba, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Now the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. Look, my betrayer is at hand.”

 

Where do you passionately pray for a cup to pass in your life?  Where is your soul deeply grieved because part of you is dying?  Where are we being lulled to sleep by constantly clicking on the next news story or having the 24-hour news cycle blaring in the background ~ not realizing what that is doing to your brain/heart/life?  Where are we asleep to those who hurt?  Where are we asleep to our own life?  And where right now do we feel betrayed or are we betraying another?  Let these questions meet you in your vulnerability and move us all deeper into prayer this week.