Following Jesus Beyond the Palms

Lessons: Is 52:13–53:12; Ps 118:19-29; Phil 2:5-11; Mat 21:1-11

Palm Sunday always unsettles me, because it begins with celebration, yet we already know how quickly the mood will change. The crowds gather. They wave branches. They shout Hosanna. They welcome Jesus as king. Within days, everything shifts. The same city that welcomes him will reject him. The same voices that praise him will condemn him. The same crowd that shouts Hosanna will cry Crucify. Palm Sunday forces us to sit in that tension. This is not only their story. This is the story of humanity. If we are honest, this is our story too.

Matthew tells us Jesus entered Jerusalem riding a donkey. Not a war horse. Not with soldiers. Not with power. He enters quietly. Humbly. This is intentional. Kings rode horses when they came for war. They rode donkeys when they came in peace. Jesus is making a statement before he ever speaks a word. He is not coming to conquer Rome. He is not coming to overthrow governments. He is not coming to dominate. He is coming to reveal another kind of kingdom. That is where people begin to get uncomfortable.

The crowd wanted liberation. They wanted power. They wanted someone to defeat their enemies. Instead, Jesus brings humility. He brings vulnerability. He brings self giving love. Isaiah tells us this is exactly what God had always planned. “He was despised and rejected… a man of suffering… wounded for our transgressions.” This is not the Messiah people expected, but it is the Messiah the world needed.

Saint Augustine once wrote, “The Lord entered Jerusalem to suffer, not to reign. He entered not to be crowned with gold, but with thorns.” That is Palm Sunday. It is the collision between our expectations and God’s way. Because we still struggle with this. We still want a God who takes sides. We still want a God who defeats our enemies. We still want a God who proves us right. But Jesus refuses. Instead, he absorbs violence rather than returning it. He exposes the cycle rather than participating in it.

If we look at our world right now, this message feels painfully relevant. We live in a time of deep division. Political division. Cultural division. Religious division. Families divided. Churches divided. Communities divided. Everywhere we look, people are forming crowds, and crowds always look for someone to blame. Palm Sunday reveals how unstable crowds can be. Crowds shift quickly. Crowds praise today and condemn tomorrow.

We see this constantly now. Social media amplifies it. A person is celebrated one week and condemned the next. Public figures rise quickly and fall just as quickly. The crowd builds up, then the crowd tears down. This is not new. This is Jerusalem. This is Palm Sunday. This is humanity. Saint Ambrose once wrote, “The crowd is easily stirred, but rarely faithful.” That line feels written for our own time. The crowd welcomed Jesus for what they hoped he would do, but when he refused to meet their expectations, they turned.

We still do the same. We welcome Jesus when he blesses us. We struggle when he calls us to sacrifice. We praise Jesus when life is stable. We question when suffering comes. We want resurrection, but we resist the cross. Paul addresses this directly in Philippians. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus… who emptied himself… taking the form of a servant… becoming obedient unto death.” This is the path of Christ. Not dominance. Not control. Self emptying love.

Saint Francis of Assisi understood this deeply. Francis lived in a time of violence and conflict. The Crusades filled the world with tension and fear. Yet Francis chose another path. He crossed battle lines and met the Sultan peacefully. He refused violence. He embodied humility. Many thought he was foolish. But Francis believed following Christ meant walking the path of peace. He prayed, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love.” That is Palm Sunday lived out.

Jesus rides into Jerusalem not as a conqueror but as peace. Yet peace often looks weak to the world. Humility looks weak. Forgiveness looks weak. Love looks weak. But the cross reveals something deeper. The cross shows that love is stronger than violence. Forgiveness is stronger than hatred. Humility is stronger than domination. Saint John Chrysostom once said, “I see the cross, and I know love has conquered.” Palm Sunday begins that journey.

There is another layer to this story. Notice how ordinary this moment is. Jesus borrows a donkey. He rides into a crowded city. People throw cloaks on the ground. No spectacle. No army. No dramatic display. God enters quietly. This matters, because we often expect God in dramatic moments, yet God often comes quietly. In acts of kindness. In forgiveness. In humility. Saint Teresa of Calcutta once said, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” That is Palm Sunday.

Jesus does not overthrow systems immediately. He plants seeds. Seeds of compassion. Seeds of humility. Seeds of mercy. Those seeds change the world. We are still living in their fruit. But Palm Sunday also challenges us personally. We must ask honestly, where are we in this story? Are we part of the welcoming crowd? The silent crowd? The rejecting crowd? Or are we willing to follow Jesus beyond the celebration?

Because it is easy to wave palms. It is harder to walk toward the cross. Palm Sunday invites us into Holy Week. Into discomfort. Into reflection. Into honesty. This week we will see betrayal, abandonment, and injustice. Yet we will also see love remain. That is the heart of the Gospel.

Saint Ignatius of Antioch, on his way to martyrdom, wrote, “Now I begin to be a disciple.” He understood something profound. Discipleship is not proven in comfort. It is proven in suffering. It is proven in love that refuses to turn away. Palm Sunday is the doorway into that reality. It is the beginning of the journey to the cross.

But we know something the crowd did not. We know resurrection is coming. We know rejection is not the end. We know suffering is not the end. We know death is not the end. Psalm 118 reminds us, “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” God transforms rejection into redemption. God transforms suffering into salvation. God transforms the cross into resurrection.

So today we hold palms. We remember the celebration, but we also prepare for the journey. We follow Christ into humility, compassion, and sacrificial love. The same Jesus who entered Jerusalem still enters our lives quietly and gently, calling us to follow. Calling us to be people of peace in a world of division, people of compassion in a world of anger, and people of humility in a world that worships power.

And if we walk that road with Christ, we will also walk into resurrection. Not only at Easter, but in the way we live, the way we love, and the way we become the people of God. And so we cry with the crowd, Hosanna. Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. But we also pray for courage. The courage to follow beyond the palms, beyond the celebration, all the way to the cross. Because that is where love is revealed. That is where redemption begins. That is where resurrection is born.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

now and forever. amen.