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Shout Hosanna
Scripture: “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd spoke to Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ they said, ‘command your disciples to be quiet!’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you that if they keep quiet, the stones themselves will start shouting.'” — Luke 19:39-40
This weekend we had friends visit. I’ll be honest — part of why this sermon is going up a little late is because I chose to be present with our guests rather than rush to post it. I’m still working on the whole planning-ahead thing.
Our friends are good people. They have interesting things to say about themselves and the world, and they carry a genuine kindness and care for others that makes every room a little brighter. It was good to have them here.
Over the course of the weekend, the conversation flowed easily — lots of laughter, lots of good stories, lots of catching up. But what made the conversations especially lively were the women in the room: my fiancée and her dear friend. Strong, accomplished, confident in themselves and their direction in life, they brought a great deal of thoughtful, incisive perspective to everything we discussed.
As I prepared this message, it occurred to me that I have spent much of my life surrounded by extraordinary women. Women who were strong, talented, loving, and deeply committed to themselves and others — all while navigating tremendous adversity, and the steady chorus of voices, mostly male but not exclusively, telling them they were anything but extraordinary.
Women in our society — in global society — are constantly challenged, blocked, second-guessed, and given limited access whenever they attempt to do something significant, whether that’s raising a family or leading a nation. A comedian once quipped, “Behind every successful woman is a man saying, ‘Wait, are you sure you’re doing that right?'”
Now, to be fair, I’ve encountered some mean-spirited women in this life too — people who harm more than they help. But whether it’s my mother, my grandmothers, my aunts, friends, mentors, teachers, or the women producing and starring in compelling art and literature — I, and the world, have been profoundly blessed by how so many remarkable women have shown up. They are heroic, phenomenal, and deserve to be recognized as such.
Part of what has made them so strong, I think, is the adversity itself. Whether navigating the implicit or explicit violence of a world steeped in toxic masculinity, these women — who come in every beautiful hue, shape, and size — defy those currents and, with remarkable courage, give voice to something life-giving in and for our world.
I am deeply grateful for their contributions. I am also keenly aware of how consistently their voices are undermined. The degree to which our society minimizes or outright negates the significance of what women say and bring is troubling — and I think Jesus has something to say about it.
Today marks the beginning of Holy Week — the one week set aside each year to commemorate the work of God and Jesus together to save humanity. Today is Palm Sunday, celebrating Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, the city where he will be crucified and, three days later, resurrected.
According to scripture, Jesus entered Jerusalem to great fanfare. The crowd waved palm branches as a sign of adoration and shouted Hosanna. In Hebrew, Hosanna is a plea for salvation — but it carries a second meaning as well, as an expression of praise and jubilance at the presence of God.
In our scripture this morning, the Pharisees are unsettled by this outpouring. They demand Jesus silence the crowd. Jesus responds with something remarkable: if these people are quieted, the stones themselves will cry out.
I think what Jesus is telling the Pharisees is that they have fundamentally misread what is happening. They hear a crowd cheering for a popular figure and interpret it as a contest for social power — who has more influence, them or Jesus? They reduce it to politics.
But they miss the point entirely. This isn’t simply people celebrating a charismatic leader. This is something deeper — a divine expression flowing through the people. It is a celebration of the presence of God in Jesus and the presence of God in the people themselves, joining together in a shared cry of hope and salvation.
It occurs to me that women have been shouting Hosanna every single day throughout the fullness of human history.
Not the word itself — but the thing behind it. They have been giving voice to the presence of God within them, speaking life and love and hope and truth into the world. And the powerbrokers of every era have been telling them to be quiet ever since they started speaking.
They aren’t supposed to preach. They aren’t supposed to teach. They aren’t supposed to lead in business, in science, in any arena that matters. And yet they keep speaking — in word and in deed — bearing witness to the presence of God alive in them.
Thank God. Hosanna in the highest.
What if, instead of hearing the voices of women who speak life and love and hope as a challenge to be managed, we understood them as an articulation of the presence of God? A voice designed not to threaten us, but to save us.
The Amazon rainforest offers a compelling parallel. It is one of the most remarkable sources of life on this planet — its vast canopy serving as both a climate regulator and a sustainable home for billions of living organisms. And yet, since the 1970s, roughly 17 percent of it has been destroyed. The loss has been catastrophic: the Amazon now absorbs only half the carbon it did twenty years ago. Wildlife populations in the region have declined by 73 percent since 1970. New species are still being discovered there daily, which makes it impossible to fully reckon with how many organisms have already been lost forever.
The deforestation of the Amazon represents a genuine threat to human survival. The loss of its carbon storage, the extinction of species that may hold cures to diseases we haven’t yet conquered — the consequences are staggering. This dense, vibrant, irreplaceable habitat shouts Hosanna in its own way, sustaining the conditions that make human life possible. Destroying it endangers us all.
The silencing of women’s voices works the same way. Nurturing those hosannas — rather than quieting them — is not optional. It is vital. The women invested in love, hope, kindness, and goodness bring life to our world. Without their voices, in word and in deed, life is not simply diminished. It is endangered.
For too long we have heard a human power struggle in the loving, courageous voices of women, when what we should have been hearing all along was the voice of God — inviting us into the life God has always intended for us. A life of goodness, peace, and hope.
Hosanna. Let the stones stay silent.
Amen.
