The Last Song of Jesus

"When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives." Matthew 26:30, NIV

On the night of his arrest, after Jesus celebrated Passover with his disciples, their Seder meal closed with the singing of an anthem. This was not an innovation of Jesus. This was following an ancient custom that had been passed down through the generations. This hymn was the Hallel, a Hebrew word for "praise", and it involved a verbal reciting of Psalms 113-118. By most accounts, Psalms 113 and 114 would have been sung before the meal and Psalms 115-118 afterward. In Jewish fashion, they would have been sung antiphonally in which the host of the gathering, in this case Jesus, would sing out a line from the psalm and his guests would respond with "Hallelujah!" To sing that part of the Hallel that would follow the Passover meal involved a chanting a total of 68 verses in our English Bible. A simple reading of these psalms took me about 5 minutes so if I factor in time for the disciples to respond the whole thing probably took 8-10 minutes before they gathered their things and headed out into the now dark streets of the city.

Read from the comfort of our recliner or sofa, the psalms are upbeat and replete with holy boasting.
   "Our God is in heaven
         doing whatever he wants to do.
   Their gods are metal and wood,
         handmade in a basement shop." (Psalm 115:3,4 Msg)
or
   "GOD is gracious - it is he who makes things right,
         our most compassionate God.
   GOD takes the side of the helpless,
         when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me." (Psalm 116:5-6)
They are the kinds of verses fitting for a gathering where the worshiper sounds more like a cheerleader officiating at a pep rally:
    "Praise GOD, everybody!
    Applaud GOD, all people!
    His love has taken over our lives;
    GOD's faithful ways are eternal.
    Hallelujah!" (Psalm 117, Msg)
A "U-RAH-RAH" seems like it would fit in perfectly here.

Charismatics like to sing "Jewish-sounding" songs because they are sung in the minor key (e.g., "Jehovah Jireh" and "The Horse and the Rider" to name two) and they get people clapping in rhythm tempting them to start dancing a jig if they could only shed their Lutheran upbringing for a moment. I have no idea how Jesus and his companions would have sung these psalms but based on their content I can't imagine they they sounded like solemn Catholic monks chanting the Benedictio.

I'm cognizant of the fact that I read them as an American who has never known the reality of being a resident of an occupid country longing for freedom and liberatoin. Sung in that manner, however, they are not just psalms of praise. They are songs of protest against the status quo, their words barked out almost with military-like cadence.
    "GOD's now at my side and I'm not afraid;
            who would dare lay a hand on me?
    GOD's my strong champion;
            I flick off my enemies like flies.
    Far better to take refuge in GOD
            than trust in people;
    Far better to take refuge in GOD
           than trust in celebrities.
    Hemmed in by barbarians,
           in GOD's name I rubbed their faces in the dirt..."
          (Psalm 118:5-10, Msg)

The Jewish people had been waiting hundreds of years for the promised son of David who would arise and lead them to a new era of peace and prosperity. Singing the Hallel had to be an act of hope and trust in Yahweh as well as a way of quietly thumbing their nose at whomever was their present ruler be it Babylonian or Persian king or Roman Caesar. In the Seder they revisited the ancient salvation story of their deliverance from Pharoah in Egypt. As they sang the words it was a prophetic act that collectively turned their focus from history past -
     "After Israel left Egypt,
          the clan of Jacob left those barbarians behind;
     Judah became holy land for him,
         Israel the place of holy rule.
     Sea took one look and ran the other way;
        River Jordan turned around and ran off." (Psalm 114:1-3, Msg)
- to a future glorious victory over those who would defy the rightful rule of God -
    "Hear the shouts, hear the triumph songs
        in the camp of the saved?
    'The hand of GOD as turned the tide!
    The hand of GOD is raised in victory!
    The hand of GOD has turned the tide!"" (Psalm 118:15, Msg)

On that night that Jesus celebrated his last Passover with his friends they were not aware of how violently the hours that followed would become. But he did. He knew the hour had come for "the Son of Man to be glorified" (John 12:23). He knew that the hand of him who would betray him was dipping into the same common bowl as he was. And he knew from Scripture that his ending would be painful beyond description. That being the case, the words of the song must have given him some measure of strength especially as he sang,
   "I will not die but live,
      and will proclaim what the LORD has done..." (Psalm 118:17, NIV)

The irony of verses 22-24 of Psalm 118 is palpable for he is the very one they are about:
   "The stone the builders rejected
   has become the capstone;
   the LORD has done this,
   and it is marvelous in our eyes.
   This is the day the LORD has made;
   let us rejoice and be glad in it." (NIV)

And now the song is nearing its climax. Earlier he had sang, "In my anguish I cried to the LORD, and he answered by setting me free" (v. 5, NIV) but now he affirms what the crowds had chanted only a few days before as he had entered Jerusalem:
   "Blessed is he who comes in the name of
      the LORD.
   From the house of the LORD we bless
     you." (v. 26, NIV)
They are words that speak of the ultimate triumph of God over all his enemies.

Jesus must have had a beautiful singing voice. In my mind, there would be something incongruous about the Messiah of God who couldn't carry a tune in a paper sack. As he prepared himself for the agony ahead these words sung in faith of a Day of victory coming must have buoyed him in some visceral way. There he stood with his friends with sandals and cloak on reenacting their forebears who partook of the first Passover in like manner, singing his last song in the shadow of imminent suffering and death.

   "The LORD is God,
       and he has made his light shine upon us.
   With boughs in hand, join in the festal
       procession
       up to the horns of the altar."

   "You are my God, and I will give you
       thanks;
    you are my God, and I will exalt you."

   "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;
      his love endures forever" (vv. 27-29, NIV)

This isn't whistling past the graveyard, living in denial of the trial he is about to go through. This is seeing the graveyard in its proper perspective, as God sees it, and agreeing with the truth of what the Scriptures affirm: "I will not die but live." It is a credo of faith and trust flung in the face of despair "mixed with gall" his enemy tempts him to swallow on the eve of the most difficult day of his life.

Leaving us a breadcrumb trail to follow

A trail to follow

“On the way, Jesus told them, "Tonight all of you will desert me. For the Scriptures say,

      'God will strike the Shepherd,

        and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.'

But after I have been raised from the dead, I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there."  

Matthew 26:31-32, New Living Translation

On the night of his arrest, after celebrating Passover with his disciples, Jesus leads his small band out of Jerusalem and back up the road to the Mount of Olives. He is pensive and it seems as if he has retreated into some deep place of quiet preparing himself for the violence that awaits a short time from now. Around him he can hear the heavy breathing of his followers as they plod their way up the hill, their mood reflective of his own. Somewhere along the way he makes the announcement that this night they will all fail him, that when push comes to shove they will cut and run instead of standing with him in his hour of need. Think of the impact of the same words being spoken to you by a close friend or revered minister and you relate to Peter's protests to such a prediction. "Others may do that but I never will," is the sense of how they reply to his dire words.

How quickly we run

All of us who consider ourselves friends of the Savior have made similar vows before. New Year resolutions, promises wept out at an altar, declarations on our return from a retreat are all samples of this same sort of thing: "From now on, Lord, I'm keeping myself pure"; "Others may backslide but I am determined to follow you"; "never again, Lord; I promise I won't do that ever again" - they are all echoes of Peter's denial, "Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will" (v. 33, NIV). But despite our profession of unending devotion, all of us have broken promises and turned back or turned tail (to our own chagrin) at different points in our journey. When faithfulness was called for, we were fickle. When courage was needed, we backed down. When sacrifice was required, we lost our spiritual backbone and caved to peer pressure. And what makes our denial worse than than that of the disciples is that we have the means for courage, for faithfulness and sacrifice in the Person of the Holy Spirit who resides within where they did not. Yes, we, too, have failed him, our proclamations of undying affection all the same.

Follow the breadcrumbs

But in his prediction there is hope. Yes, they will scatter to the winds when he is accosted by the authorities but when all this is over, they will reunite in Galilee. If Jerusalem is the place where every time Jesus shows up there he gets into some kind of controversy, Galilee is where he rides the waves of public approval. In Galilee, people want to join him. They want him to touch them or their loved one. Houses get packed when he teaches and villages and towns know joy because of the remarkable works of God that are done within them by he and his followers. Galilee means fellowship, sharing together in the work of the kingdom, being close to him and enjoying his friendship. “But after I have been raised from the dead, I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there” (emphasis mine). In his dour announcement he was leaving a breadcrumb trail out of the thicket of the despair they – and us – would find themselves following their duplicity. That they would scatter was a given – the Scriptures foretold that they would. That we from time to time in our life as Christians “discreetly distance” ourselves from the One we profess to love and follow is a pretty sure thing as well. Why else would one who knew well enough about deserting Jesus write to later followers (including us) these now time-worn words of hope:

         If we claim that we're free of sin, we're only fooling ourselves. A claim like that 

         is errant nonsense. On the other hand, if we admit our sins—make a clean breast 

        of them—he won't let us down; he'll be true to himself. He'll forgive our sins and 

        purge us of all wrongdoing.  

       (1 John 1:8-9, The Message)

No need to keep cowering in fear and shame in a Jerusalem upper room. Make your way back to Galilee, make your way home to the old stomping grounds of faith where you enjoyed a pleasant closeness with him and enjoyed better days as you led “a great procession to the house of God,singing for joy and giving thanks amid the sound of a great celebration!” (Ps 42:4, NLT) Instead of scorn and a scowl you fear to find upon his face, more than likely he'll be working on breakfast and look up at you and smile.