Hosanna: "God, Save Us Now!"

"All Glory, Laud and Honour"
Image Copyright: The Sage

   Today is Palm Sunday, and there are only a few hours left before the day ends. Passion Week has begun, and I want, if possible, to post my thoughts as I go through the week this year. 

   With all that has been happening over the last two weeks, I wanted to do something different and experience a traditional liturgical service this Palm Sunday. So early today morning, I drove out to St. John's Vancouver [1], an Anglican parish situated in the Oakridge area. St. John's had been recommended by my mentor, as a church well known for faithful gospel-centered biblical preaching, while preserving the liturgical service that I had been wanting to experience again. And thus it happened that I drove out to the 9:00 AM service, wondering what it would be like and looking forward to the experience.

   The choir was just gearing up to sing the "Hallelujah Chorus" as I made my way to a pew in the back and took a seat. After this, I had the pleasure of rising with the rest of the congregation and singing the opening hymn, "All Glory, Laud and Honour", with a beautifully accompanied organ and choir. What a pleasure it was, to sing the words of this beautiful hymn after many years! I took a photo of the words and sheet music of this classic hymn provided in the service sheets, along with the little hand-made Palm Sunday cross that was given to each of us. As the service went by with the liturgical greeting, Prayer for Purity, recital of the Nicene Creed,  Lord's Prayer and other familiar elements of the service in the old English, I was looking forward to hearing the sermon. I was not disappointed, and thought I'd share the summary here.

    Titled "Jesus: Son of David", it focused on the excerpt of John 12:1-36, covering Jesus' anointing at Bethany, triumphant entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, his message about the grain of wheat and his prediction of his coming death.

   One of the new things that I learned through this sermon was related to the meaning of the word "Hosanna", shouted by the crowd as Christ enters Jerusalem:

 "Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! The King of Israel!"

- John 12:13, NKJV

   It was pointed out that there is a particular and important meaning to the word "Hosanna!" (pronounced, “hoshi’a na”) when translated from the original Hebrew, particularly in this passage and places such as Psalm 118:25. The word, “hosanna,” literally means, “Save us, now!”, or "Save us now, we beseech you!" Thus, in this case, the crowd was shouting prayer of acclimation to Jesus as their perceived Messiah who was going to save Israel from Roman rule, without realizing what they were saying. Jesus was going to save, but in a shocking and completely unexpected way.

   Amongst many other interesting things that the Rev. David Short pointed out in his sermon, he focused on three aspects that Jesus prophesied out about his death that I wanted to share.

• It was a fruitful death. Jesus' famous words of the burial of a grain of wheat in John 12:24-25 are of interest here. A grain of wheat is not meant to be carefully placed in a display case, polished and dusted. It is meant to be buried. It is meant to die. The burial of a grain of wheat is essentially a funeral. Jesus' sole purpose for his entry into Jerusalem was to attend his own funeral. It was His Father's intent to send Him there for that express purpose. But Jesus also explains that in His one death, death itself would be reversed and an explosion of new life would occur - the lives of those who would be born into new life through His one death. Jesus also has this in mind for those who follow Him; it is more than self-denial, fasting, observances or sacrifices. It is facing our own funerals as grains of wheat in His hands, the complete surrender of our life and will to Him, just as He surrendered His life into His Father's.

•  It was a deeply troubling death. Unlike what we often imagine, Jesus was anything but calm, composed and stoic as He contemplates what is to come. John records His words: "Now my soul is troubled and what shall I say? 'Father, save Me from this hour'? But for this purpose I came to this hour." It is interesting to note Christ's great struggle with death, in comparison with those Christian martyrs who joyfully stated their desire to die for him. Some sang as they were burned alive. One who was being skinned alive said, "I thank you for this. Tear off my old garment, for I will soon put on Christ's garment of righteousness." But Jesus is afraid and anxious as He contemplates what is to come, and with good reason - the full, unrestrained flood of the divine anger of God against all of human sin is soon to be vented upon Him without any mercy. But Christ did it for us; despite His troubled and anguished soul, He did for us what we were incapable of doing for ourselves.

• It was a glorified death. Jesus' sole intent was the glorifying of the Father's name: "Father, glorify Your name." Jesus went on to explain: "And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself." It is important to note that Jesus' road to glory leads to the slowest and most painful way to die. His death on the Cross is Jesus' glory, because two important things will happen, both then and in the time to come - people will be drawn to salvation, and Jesus will be the one drawing them. I found this to be a really important point highlighted in verse 32 and paid close attention to what Jesus is actually saying to the people who are questioning Him. Those that are drawn to salvation at the Cross don't come by their own free will or choice. They are brought there by God, who draws them by His own unshakeable will and omnipotent power. The "all peoples" that Jesus is referring to is not the whole world; it is those who God has planned to be drawn towards the Cross. Thus, from beginning to end, salvation begins and ends with God. He takes full credit for everything that happens. Praise God, what an awesome thing that He undertakes for us on His own initiative and power!

   As the time for Holy Communion drew near, these same themes were expressed in the preceding Prayer of Humble Access:

   "We do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table. But thou are the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy: Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink His blood, that our sinful bodies may be made clean by His body, and our souls washed through His most precious blood, and that we may evermore dwell in Him, and He in us. Amen."

   As the service concluded with the customary greeting and benediction, I went home happy. I'm glad to be able to share these thoughts in this post, and look forward to writing more during Passion Week. I hope you all had a blessed Palm Sunday. See you in the next post!

- The Wisdom Seeker  

REFERENCES:

==========

[1] St. John's Vancouver

In Search of "Holy Ground"

"Take the sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground."

- Exodus 3:5, NKJV

   With all that I have experienced over the last two weeks, along with their accompanying realizations have brought me to a point where I think I can understand what has been happening inside me. Given all that has transpired in my spiritual history since childhood, I think my mind and heart are longing and searching for a true, safe and personal "holy ground" on which to meet with God.

   Over the last couple of years, I have come to realize that I am essentially the product of the influence of five different Christian groups and their church environments - the Mar Thoma, Anglican, Roman Catholic, Pentecostal/Charismatic and currently, a rather unconventional Mennonite church. I must honestly admit that sometimes I really don't know what that makes me - a hybrid, an accident, a freak, an anomaly? I will admit that it sometimes causes me consternation and confusion in my communion with other sincere Christians, and on occasion even my walk with God. With the kind of personality that I have, experiencing disunity and conflict in the Christian community causes me personal distress. Sometimes, looking back on troubling experiences across this spiritual terrain makes me feel frustrated and angry to the point where a lump forms in my throat, a tightness grips my chest and I want to cry.

    Much of this was not necessarily by choice, but simply the result of following the decisions of my family as they shifted congregations over my growing years. With that came an exposure to differences in doctrine, teaching, church structure,  understanding of true infallible authority - the Scripture or the Church, interpretation of Scripture, claims, counter-claims, arguments, divisions within churches that lead to splits, false teaching, and a myriad of other experiences that led to personal angst and turmoil. I should express at this point that I'm not bitter or ungrateful for all that I have journeyed through; I have learned much, gained a perspective that helps me relate to different congregations and been blessed by God through all, but I also know at the same time that I struggle to understanding why it had to be so. And with that question comes a struggle to figure out the right way for me to approach God. But let me start at the beginning.

My paternal grandfather's parish church
Image Copyright: Salem Mar Thoma Church

   My family originates from an apostolic-era church in India that traces its origins to the first century, and the arrival of the Apostle Thomas in India, and now carries his name - the Mar Thoma [1]. I have written in some detail in earlier posts about some of my childhood experiences in that church, where my late paternal grandparents used to attend, and the imprint that it left on me [2-3]. I am hoping to visit my late grandfather's little Mar Thoma parish when I visit India on vacation next month. Although I spent very little time in the Mar Thoma church environment (only visiting it with my grandfather during summer vacations in India), the impression of "sanctity" with which it imprinted me was not too different from that of the next two churches that were quite foundational in their influence - the Anglican and Roman Catholic.

Holy Trinity Church
Image Copyright: Gulf News

   When my family moved abroad when I was about three, we began regularly attending an Anglican church called "Holy Trinity", which was foundational in my spiritual formation as a child. It was there that I first started going to Sunday School, learned my first lessons about God, the stories of the Bible and received my first Bible (a little children's Good News Bible with a yellow hardback cover and beautifully illustrated). I learned to start reading the Bible for the first time on my own as a child, not really understanding what was going on, but finding the stories fascinating. I remember the kindness and dedicated efforts of my Sunday School teachers, many of whose names and faces I still remember. 

Rev. Dennis Gurney

Like my grandfather's Mar Thoma parish, Holy Trinity imprinted me with the sense of "sanctity" in my approach to God, as I witnessed their formal and traditional, yet reverent and meaningful liturgy that was derived from Scripture. It didn't seem that way to me as a child, yet I appreciate and understand the spirit and intention behind it as I look back on it now. With it's soaring triangular roof and silent sanctuary, it awed me as a child, yet the presence of the pastor who ministered there (Reverend Dennis Gurney) gave it a warm and comforting feeling at the same time. Holy Trinity was my first definite encounter with the notion, idea and person of God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and the message of the Christian faith - creation, sin, judgement, Christ, His Cross, death and ressurection as a child. Though the time had not come for the power of the Gospel to penetrate my heart there, Holy Trinity Church faithfully sowed the seed, placed a Bible in my hands for the first time, taught me to immerse myself in it, and kept the ground of my heart ready. 

Sister Fosca Berardi

   It was while the Anglican church was imprinting me with the foundational lessons of the Christian faith that I was also simultaneously being imprinted through the influence of Roman Catholicism at the school that I spent all my school life in - St. Mary's Catholic High. An international school run by Italian nuns, I have fond memories of them for the kindness and affection that they showed to my mother and I. Sister Fosca Berardi, the headmistress, was an elderly lady crippled by polio as a child. Yet she faithfully served there for 30 years with dedication and sincerity; I remember watching this little nun with a mix of curiosity and admiration as I saw her limp across the school grounds to her various duties and classes that she taught, wondering at her courage and determination. She loved my mother, and always had a smile for me whenever she saw me. Sister Josephina was the nun who I was probably closest to; she ran the school bookstore and always had a smile and present for me when I used to come around to visit her during my kindergarten years. I think it was from her that I sensed the most love and affection, with her bright blue eyes that lit up when she saw me, and warm smile. Of all the nuns that watched me grow up from kindergarten to the end of high school, I think it's her that I probably miss the most.

Sister Josephine

  I believe it was at St. Mary's that I had my first encounter with conflict within the Christian faith. Going through the instruction of the Catholic Cathecism in religion class over many years, I understood the perspective and approach of Roman Catholic theology quite well by the time I left. It also led to a lot of debates and occasional arguments with my Cathecism teachers, some of whom didn't seem to have answers for the questions that I asked. In the process, I realized the fundamental issue of authority that divided both sides - is Scripture the only and infallible authority through which God speaks to all people within the church and to which all believers must absolutely submit, to derive it's doctrine and teaching? Or does the church itself possess infallible authority given to her leadership to interpret the Bible and decide on matters of faith for believers? The implications of both are tremendous; is is from this that all differences across the Protestant-Catholic divide flow - understanding the Gospel, justification, salvation, grace, sacramental theology, holiness, righteousness, the relationship of faith and works, and much more. Although I understood the perspective of Roman Catholic theology, my heart clung firmly to my Bible and remained trusting the Scripture as my only reliable guide.

   But as much as my immersion into Roman Catholicism brought me into my first experience of conflict, it also had much good that it imprinted me with, as I have come to realize [4]. Apart from it's reinforcement of "sanctity" and reverence in my relationship with God, it also challenged me with "the need for a robust moral theology, relationship of faith and reason, historical rootedness, emphasis on catechesis and spiritual formation" [4]. I think God is once again challenging me with those things today.

Baptized in India

   When my family decided to move to a Pentecostal/Charismatic congregation in the midst of my school years, I followed them. It's here that my experience gets muddled, and my greatest confusion begins. When the seed of the Gospel sown by Holy Trinity finally bore fruit and I came to saving faith in Christ as my personal Saviour during a summer vacation in India, it through a cousin of mine who gave his life to Christ in a Pentecostal church and led me to salvation too. It was my cousin's Pentecostal pastor who baptized me in a river in India, some years later. But after that, I don't really know how to describe the next 17 years of my journey through the Pentecostal/Charismatic congregations that I was part of, and it's probably this that causes me the greatest turmoil. I find it extremely difficult to concisely summarize what I heard or learned; I seemed to be spiritually "afloat" for a lot of the years  spent in various churches. There was very little theological instruction, but lots of emphasis on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, faith, healing, miracles, overcoming obstacles, experiential demonstration of the power of God through signs and wonders, prophecies, speaking in tongues, dynamic speakers, and everything else that accompanied them. There is no doubt that I saw awesome evidence of the miraculous power of God, in both my own life and the life of other believers. However, conflicting teaching, woolly theology, and lack of clear biblical exposition and preaching meant that my heart and mind were still not solidly grounded in a clear understanding of how to read and interpret Scripture, understand and walk with God, address the "tangible dimensions of our world", and wisdom for understanding the issues of life. And thus it was when crisis and shock hit my life, that I had no firm foundation to understand how to understand and deal with them. The last straw came five years ago, after which I backed out, and went looking for something theologically robust and concrete in my walk with God. I doubt if I would be comfortable going back.

   And thus it has become that I have spent the last five years at a rather unconventional Mennonite church. The gracious and merciful hand of God brought me here, knowing that I needed to be grounded in systematic and methodical teaching through the Scripture. He has helped me sort out some of my questions, clear misconceptions and grow in maturity. I still have a lot of questions, angst and issues to struggle through and find answers for. I know that what I need most is to know Scripture well, and am striving with all my effort to gain the necessary tools that I need, to build a strong and immovable foundation from which I can navigate through life. Though some clarity has come, there is still much that remains unanswered. I know that Willingdon is not the "perfect church" or "true church"; there is no such thing as a "perfect" church anywhere on this planet. I also don't know if it is God's will for me to stay here for the rest of my life; I am becoming more willing to surrender to Him and consider that He might have something different in mind. Like any other church, Willingdon contains a body of broken and sinful people who need the grace of God and the good news of the Gospel, just like everyone else. And among them, I'm the one who probably needs it the most.

   I used the term "holy ground" in this post to describe what I am searching for - a place of spiritual truth and certainty in my mind and heart, where I can meet God without being plagued by theological confusion and doubt, and worship Him in Spirit and in truth. With the history and influence of these five different congregations within Christianity converging in my life, I am trying to sort through the good and significant lessons that each has taught me, and figure out how I can integrate them - Scripture as my only reliable guide, yet preserving reverence, sanctity, deep and meaningful liturgical worship, piety, devotion, faith and reason, catechesis, spiritual formation, the charismatic power and gifts of the Holy Spirit, robust moral theology, and other important aspects of each. Is this even possible? I don't know at the moment, but I want to find out. And I think I know where to start - Holy Scripture. 

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:

==========

[1] Visiting The Crossroads: 494 Years After the Protestant Reformation

[2] Haunted By My Grandfather's Voice

[3] Recovering "Sanctity"

[4] What Can Evangelicals Learn From Catholics?

Recovering "Sanctity"

"And He said, 'Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord.' And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper." 

- 1 Kings 19:11-12, ESV

"But the Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before Him." 

- Habbakuk 2:20, ESV

sanc.ti.ty (noun): 

holiness; sacred or hallowed character; anything regarded as sanctified or holy

   It has been one week since the flashback of my late grandfather's life, his parish church and the liturgical hymns that I heard him sing [1], and the impact of that experience has not faded. Since then, I have begun to experience a stirring in my heart, an inner ache that I cannot quite find a word for. It was partly this that drove me to acquire a 442-year old copy of "The Book of Common Prayer" of the Church of England from an antique bookstore in downtown Vancouver last weekend [2]. I've occasionally wondered if this is just an unconscious attempt to just relive those memories, follow his example or seek comfort in childhood familiarity. That's what it initially seemed to be. But I don't think so anymore. Below the surface, I think God is moving my heart towards the a recovering of a sense of "sanctity" in my prayer and worship.

   In the process, I have developed an interesting hypothesis about how a child's  encounter with God in a church environment imprints them with how they see and approach Him later in life. I think it is beginning to help me make sense of how my own heart has been formed to experience God in congregational and private worship.

   I believe my first encounter with God was probably in my paternal grandfather's Mar Thoma parish in India as a child, before my parents and I moved to abroad. As in later memories when visiting India during summer vacations, it was the atmosphere within the church during those Sunday services that I remember as the defining impression - solemn, liturgical, filled with symbolism, yet deeply reverential and meaningful as I look back on it now. There was a sense of hushed respect that made me shut my mouth and watch, with an instinctive sense that I was not in the midst of an ordinary social gathering.

Holy Trinity Church, 1970
Image Copyright: Gulf News

   This imprint was only reinforced when my family moved abroad, and began attending an Anglican Church called "Holy Trinity", and I began going to a Roman Catholic international school, where I would spend all my school life. Of the two, it is Holy Trinity that I remember better, since that is where I spent my Saturdays, Sundays and other church occasions. The silent, empty sanctuary of Holy Trinity Church was an awe-inspiring place for me to walk into as a child - three massive triangles meeting together to form a soaring roof that seemed to disappear into the distance, and a massive Cross fixed to each triangle that I gazed at in awe during services, wondering what would happen if they were to fall on me. With a massive rock altar at the front and two marble pulpits on each side, it is still a place that I remember as having imprinted foundational lessons in my spiritual formation.

   But whether my Grandfather's little Mar Thoma parish, childhood Anglican church or Roman Catholic school, all three taught the same message of "sanctity" that I believe has left a deep and lasting imprint on my mind and heart - that I am in the presence of One who is Holy, and that His holiness is not a small matter to be taken lightly. The message that I  was thus taught as a child was simple, yet profound:

God is God. You are not. Take Him seriously. Meet Him in the manner that is appropriate: 

with reverence and sanctity.

    This sense of "sanctity" with which I was imprinted was to approach God in a reverent manner of quietness of mind and heart, that carried with it a contemplative silence in the spirit. It carried an internal sense that it was deeply improper and offensive to approach and treat my encounter with the great Jehovah in a light manner; that He must be given the dignity and respect that is due His majesty. It taught me that one does not adopt a casual posture and attitude of the heart and mind in front of Him. It impressed upon me a sense that one does not address God anyway one chooses, with any tone that one feels like, because He is not my "buddy".  He is God, and He is holy.

   I have come to believe that the manner and church environment in which a child encounters God shapes their impression of who He is and how they approach Him, sometimes for the rest of their lives. It imprints their character, approach and outlook on life, personality, even the kind of person that they are attracted to.

  After my family moved to a different congregation when I was  young, I have traversed different churches over the years. Some services that I have witnessed and participated in have had more resemblance to feel-good rock concerts that delivered a "high", than a reverential acknowledgement of the "separateness" of the Almighty that leaves a deep impression on the silent soul. Thus, over the years, I think the imprint and sense of "sanctity" with which I was taught to approach God as a child was buried in the process. But not erased, praise God. 

   I'm growing tired of jingoistic, feel-good but ultimately dissatisfying worship. I want to recover that sense of "sanctity" that I was imprinted with once more. I want to encounter God in reverence and awe, in the silence of mind and spirit. Like Elijah, I want to hear that still small voice of the Holy God whispering to me in the sacred silence, as my head is bowed, my eyes are closed and fervent lips silently recite the prayers which I have begun to learn from the Book of Common Prayer that I bought recently. Some of them, such as the Litany, are beautifully worded and expressed, with tremendous depth, touching on some of the deep cries and prayers of the heart. There is a silence not of this world, the divine silence of God that steals into the heart in sanctity of worship that calms, fills, comforts and satisfies in a manner as nothing else can.

  I am deeply thankful to the sense of sanctity that I was taught by the influence of my grandfather's little parish, my childhood Anglican church and Roman Catholic school. I believe God is resurrecting the buried imprint of those lessons in my life, and I don't want to lose them ever again.

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:

=============

[1] Haunted By My Grandfather's Voice

[2] A Visit To El-Shaddai's...And Ancient Treasure