Yesterday was Palm Sunday. The day in the Christian calendar when we mark the beginning of Holy Week, the day we commemorate Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem by waving palm branches throughout our congregations. Yesterday morning I held my own palm branch, waving it in the air in one hand as I held my youngest son in the other, and we marched along behind my oldest child in a processional through the sanctuary at our church—a long line of kids and their grown-ups walking in step to a chorus of hosanna.
Two millennia ago, after acquiring a donkey, a small colt, Jesus rode into the holy city of Jerusalem for the festival of Passover, and the crowds who were gathered around lay down their cloaks in front of Him and placed palm fronds at His feet. Two symbols intertwine, the donkey and the palm fronds, a little juxtaposition in the text. Jesus’ choice to ride a donkey was an act that gave nod to Zechariah 9:9—“See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey.” Jesus is celebrated as King, but His chosen steed was a symbol of peace. The palm fronds, on the other hand, were a symbol of victory in the Ancient Near East, and their presence in the story means that the people believed Jesus had arrived to free them from Roman oppression. Their shouts of “Hosanna!” (which literally means “Save us!”) likely sounded less like the hymns my children and I marched to yesterday and more like the rallying cry of a political protest movement. The people in the story were declaring Jesus their Messiah, who—in their understanding—was a military leader, while Jesus was declaring that the purpose of His arrival was to bring about a kingdom of peace. As we move from Palm Sunday toward the Crucifixion, the crowd will continue to embody this juxtaposition: at first they herald Jesus King; days later they scorn Him.
I wonder what Jesus thought about as He rode through Jerusalem that day, watching the people from the back of a donkey? I wonder if He was angry or if He was filled with compassion. Maybe some measure of both? In the gospel of Matthew, He laments over the city of Jerusalem, “How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.” (Matthew 23:37). I love the imagery of that verse, how like a mother He is. It helps me understand at least a little how He felt—my own children swing back and forth along this pendulum. They desire my help and my presence, but they are not always willing to hear and listen to my guidance. Similarly, the crowds that followed Jesus wanted his help and presence, but they did not embrace the countercultural wisdom of His way.
Jesus grew up in a society under Roman rule, and he had likely seen this palm-bearing scene before. History tells us this wasn’t the first time crowds of Israelites had rallied behind a leader, putting their hope in the promises of men. We have all done that, if we’re honest. Jesus would have been well aware, as He rode the donkey into Jerusalem against a backdrop of support, that it was not a coronation but a cross that loomed ahead, that death and betrayal were to come. But He also knew this wasn’t the end. I’m sure He longed for His work to be finished, to be restored to a glorified body, even as He wept over the city, even as He enjoyed His final days in His body with His friends—sharing meals and conversations, together.
Palm Sunday was indeed a triumphant entry—Jesus’ kingdom had come, a kingdom of peace breaking into a kingdom of oppression. It just wasn’t the kind of kingdom people recognized. We still struggle to see it today. Racism runs rampant in our society, gun violence regularly takes the lives of God’s image-bearers, fast fashion and cheap consumer goods deplete our natural resources and exploit workers, corporations line their pockets with profits while everyday people suffer through on minimal wages. Whether you’re Christian or not, we all long for the righting of things. Those of us who are Christians, we cry out to Jesus: “Save us!” But even we aren’t always convinced that His way is the best way.
When I struggle to sit in the tension, to trust in the way of my King Jesus, I often think about a scene from A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, which I’ll leave with you today. Mrs. Whatsit has just revealed to Meg and Charles Wallace that there is a great battle in the cosmos, one being fought throughout the universe.
Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then, slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. No fear. Only the stars and the clear darkness of space, quite different from the fearful darkness of the Thing.
“You see!” the Medium cried, smiling happily. “It can be overcome! It is being overcome all the time!”
Mrs. Whatsit sighed, a sigh so sad that Meg wanted to put her arms around her and comfort her.
“Tell us exactly what happened, then, please,” Charles Wallace said in a small voice.
“It was a star,” Mrs. Whatsit said sadly. “A star giving up its life in battle with the Thing. It won, oh yes, my children, it won. But it lost its life in the winning.”
We are all invited to journey with Jesus this week, as He loses His life in the winning, in order to break through the Great Darkness and overcome it. It is a victorious journey that starts with the waving of palms and a crowd of support. And yet, this victory is won not by might and not by power, but by the love and selflessness of a gentle and faithful King.
I am here with you on the journey, friends. The cross looms ahead, but resurrection is coming.
-Jenica
Ordinary Joy
Words of Jubilee
A lenten blessing for Palm Sunday by Kate Bowler:
O God, why do the days feel so short and the minutes so long?
Oh God take hold of time, and order it once again.
God have mercy,
Christ have mercy,
Spirit have mercy.
on this Palm Sunday,
time is marked
as one small donkey
plods toward Jerusalem,
and one with a face set like flint
walks forward
toward the eastering of all sorrow
—not in the power of horses
and swift victory,
but in small steps.
blessed are all those
walking forward
into the great small work they do
in hospitals, homes, grocery stores, and trucking companies.
and blessed are we
joining the crowds waving palm branches
to shout ourselves hoarse:
“hosanna! save us! save our world.”
Blessed are those who have learned to walk in the light of your presence.
Psalm 89:15God have mercy,
Christ have mercy,
Spirit have mercy.
sit still. wait. until the deep sigh comes, and the next step is possible.
A Few Good Things:
If you need resources for talking to your kids about Easter, check out Meredith Miller’s Instagram. She has lots of posts that help you simplify the story and discuss it in an age-appropriate way. She also has some resources here that align with Holy Week.
I can’t stop listening to this song by James Bay. It’s literally from the Cars 3 Soundtrack, and I just love it.
If you’ve never read A Wrinkle in Time, go do that right now. Reread it if you have time. And I also really love Madeleine L’Engle’s reflections on faith and art, the beautiful book Walking on Water.
As always, thank you for your support and readership. It’s a great joy to write for you each week. If you want to contribute to my writing coffee fund, you can do so below.