Palm Sunday

A little boy was sick on Palm Sunday and stayed home from church with his mother. His father returned from church holding a palm branch. The little boy was curious and asked, "Why do you have that palm branch, dad?" 

"You see, when Jesus came into town, everyone waved Palm Branches to honor him, so we got Palm Branches today." 

The little boy replied, "Aw shucks! The one Sunday I miss is the Sunday that Jesus shows up!"

Well, Jesus shows up every Sunday in the Gospel, in the Word of God as it is taught and preached, in the Sacrament of the Eucharist and in our commitment to follow him. But if Jesus entered our world in the flesh today, he would not arrive where power gathers. He would not be escorted by motorcades or surrounded by influencers.

He would walk into places where people are hurting, exhausted, overlooked, or afraid. He would sit with families grieving violence. He would stand with communities fighting for dignity and safety. He would show up in the quiet corners of our own lives where we feel stretched thin or unseen. Palm Sunday reminds us that Jesus always enters the city we actually live in—not the one we pretend to have under control.

Today is a day of mixed signals. And perhaps that is why it speaks so clearly to the moment in which we live now. We, too, know what it is to hold joy and fear in the same hand. We know what it is to long for deliverance while bracing for the next hard thing.

We know what it is to hope for peace in a world that keeps choosing violence. Palm Sunday meets us right there—in the tension between celebration and sorrow, between what we want God to do and what God actually does.

When Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowd is ready for a certain kind of Messiah. They want a leader who will overthrow the empire, restore national pride, and make everything right again. They want a king who will win. But Jesus does not ride in on a warhorse. He comes on a borrowed donkey. No armor. No sword. No political strategy team. Just humility, courage, and a kind of power the world doesn’t quite know what to do with.

The elite members of the religious Jewish community wanted a powerful leader to free them from the tyranny of Roman oppression, and the common folk wanted a savior to get them from under the dominance of the religious authorities. They probably expected that he would arrive on a white horse instead of a donkey and be led by a formidable army rather than a dozen bedraggled disciples.

Instead, they got an unemployed, homeless, young rabbi who taught them to forgive one another, make peace with one another, and love one another as he loved us. They got a Messiah, yes, but not the one they expected. Jesus completely overturned our expectation and definition of God.

These are rather trying times, not unlike the political and emotional climate in which Jesus lived so long ago. It is a polarized and scary time in the world.

We are living in high anxiety mode, hearing frightening news every day, watching the wars in the Middle East and the Ukraine, the economic impact on everyday lives and the potential loss of lives of our women and men in the military and the innocent citizens of the countries caught in this conflict.

Our present-day world is not very different from the world in which Jesus lived and died. We are living in days when the horizon is fogged in, and no one can see far ahead.

We do not pretend to know how long this will last, but we do know God does not abandon people in the middle of a story.

What are we looking for in Jesus, our Messiah and Savior, the Son of God? Would we have him ride into town on a white horse, in a parade that demonstrates our military prowess? 

That’s not who the people in first century Palestine got on that first Palm Sunday and it’s not who we get today. God expresses power in ways that are totally beyond our comprehension.

We still get an unemployed, homeless, young rabbi riding on a jackass, but who happens to be the very face of God, a God who embraces us just as we are, weeps for us when we are hurting and forgives us when we do wrong.

Here is the good news of Palm Sunday: Knowing what he will soon face, that those Hosanna cheers will become the condemning shouts of “Crucify him,” Jesus enters the city anyway.

Even when the crowd misunderstands him. Even when the disciples are confused. Even when the week ahead will break his heart. Even when we are not ready for the kind of salvation he brings. He enters anyway—because love always moves toward us, never away.

And he will keep entering our lives, our communities, our world, until every place of fear is met with courage, every place of injustice is met with truth, every place of despair is met with hope, and every place of death is met with resurrection.

Jesus walked through that toxic environment in which he lived as a peace maker and reconciler with a message of love and compassion for one another rather than one of mistrust and hate.

He came to lift up those around him, making whole what was broken, healing the sick, comforting the broken hearted, bringing others to know God’s mercy and all-embracing, unconditional love. And he shows up to promise that for us this morning and even when we miss being here.