Pastor's Corner: 'All Glory, Laud, and Honor'

Earlier this week, I got to experience a treat: worshiping alongside some of the residents of the Northern Montana Care Center. We held hymnals with extra-extra large print, and I thought we sounded pretty good for a congregation with an average age of 90 as we "belted" out hymns that told the old, old story.

It's a wonderful thing that residents at the care center can have church brought to them, but there are a few things that are hard to recreate in any care center - things like the excitement of Palm Sunday. The joy of seeing children parade down the aisle waving palm branches (everyone crossing their fingers that no eyeballs get poked from the most enthusiastic waver's palm), the thrill of Jesus' robust welcome into Jerusalem, the shiver of knowing what's coming ... all that and more is wrapped up in Palm Sunday's celebration and anticipation. The rousing hymn "All Glory, Laud, and Honor" captures it well, and I love belting it out every Palm Sunday.

Yet, that hymn was written by a priest who had more in common with the care center residents than regular Palm Sunday parishioners. Neither the priest, Theodulph of Orleans, nor the care center residents have freedom of movement. Neither can choose to go wherever they want, whenever they want - though the similarities end there. Theodulph was in prison when he wrote this hymn.

He was a good priest, a champion of public education even in the early 800s, and a devoted man of faith. Theodulph had been a friend and adviser to King Charlemagne in the 800s. But when Charlemagne died, the transition of power didn't go so smoothly, and Theodulph got mixed up in the violent power plays of kings and empires. Soon he was imprisoned and exiled at the whim of the new emperor. Theodulph the poet, priest and teacher challenged the power-hungry attitudes of the ruling elite, and the powers-that-be locked him up. He wrote this hymn and its now-famous refrain ("All glory, laud, and honor, to you, redeemer, king, to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring") as he sat in prison and watched the Palm Sunday parade through his cell window. Perhaps Theodulph was thinking about the word "hosanna," which means "save us, God!" Perhaps Theodulph was thinking, "Save me, God!"

Perhaps every Palm Sunday brings us a new reason to cry, "Save us, God!" Every year we tell this story, the Passion of Christ, and every year we bring something different to the telling. This year, I want to cry out, "Save us from the destruction of war, God!" Maybe, in your family, the cry has become, "Save us from this diagnosis, save us from this relapse, save us from this pay cut!" Every year, there's something new.

Yet, every year, the sorrow and tragedy and desperation of Christ's betrayal and death give way to Easter morning and an empty tomb. Every year the isolation of death gives way to the community of the resurrection. Whether we celebrate Easter in prison, in our homes, in the hospital, on the road, or in a care center, the truth of Christ's triumph over death and sin is worth singing about. All glory, laud, and honor to you, redeemer, king, to whom the lips of children (and 40-year-olds and senior citizens) make sweet hosannas ring!

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The Rev. Megan Hoewisch is pastor of First Lutheran Church in Havre.