They brought [the colt] to Jesus, threw their clothes on the colt, and lifted Jesus onto it. As Jesus rode along, they spread their clothes on the road.

As Jesus approached the road leading down from the Mount of Olives, the whole throng of his disciples began rejoicing. They praised God with a loud voice because of all the mighty things they had seen. They said,

“Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord.

    Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens.”

-Luke 19:35-38

 

This Sunday is Palm Sunday. It’s a service so jam-packed with scripture and music and prayer that there’s no time for a sermon. Because of that, I’d like to offer a few thoughts here about what Palm Sunday means for us.

Palm Sunday is a parade. 

So much so that we reenact it that way every year! In our version, worshipers of every age wave palm fronds as we make our way into the sanctuary and begin worship. Of course, the palms don't show up in Luke's version, but waving palms is more fun than draping our coats on the floor in imitation of the disciples.

Parades have been around for a long time. When we attend a parade, it’s an opportunity to hear marching bands, to see elaborate floats, to cheer on the scout troops, and, of course, to collect candy. For people in most of history, including first century Palestine, parades had another major function: parading someone through the streets allowed the crowds of ordinary people to see and recognize the ones who were in the parade. Emperors and kings and generals would parade through the streets so that those they ruled (or captured) would know who was in charge now. When Jesus rode down the Mount of Olives through the throng, he was showing himself to them as one who should be recognized. Other times, prisoners, especially political prisoners and deposed rulers, would be paraded in chains so that the crowds would recognize what happens to anybody who crosses the ones in power. That’s exactly what would happen to Jesus just a few days later as he walked to his crucifixion.

Palm Sunday is a protest. 

Every year, about a week before Passover, Pontius Pilate came to Jerusalem. You see, Passover was a touchy time for the relationship between Rome and Israel. Passover is a celebration of God freeing the people of Israel from oppression and slavery by punishing, even killing the rulers of Egypt– a message of liberation that was not lost on those Roman leaders who currently ruled over the Jews. In order to clamp down on the Jewish people, Roman soldiers increased their presence in Jerusalem in the days before and after Passover. Remember how I said parades could be used to make a political point? Governor Pontius Pilate came to Jerusalem, marching in from the west with horsemen and foot soldiers and banners and spears and swords and trumpets, insisting that the people of Jerusalem line the streets to watch, in order to proclaim the power of empire, the power of violence, the power of, well, power.

On the east side of Jerusalem, Jesus plodded along on a colt. Crowds gathered not because they were told to but because they wanted to. They raised their voices to call this man “king,” a political statement if there ever was one. They rejected the parade that Pilate was staging to gather for this demonstration on the opposite side of town. They rejected the idea that armies bring peace. They rejected the idea that a few should benefit at the expense of the people. They rejected the ways that they were mistreated simply because they weren’t Roman citizens. They rejected, like we do at Baptism or its affirmation, sin and death and the devil with his empty promises and all the forces that defy God. When we say yes to Palm Sunday and join in waving our branches and raising our voices, we aren’t just singing along with a catchy tune or keeping a tradition. We are joining a protest. We are saying NO, with our voices and our bodies, to a world that puts the love of power ahead of the power of love. “No to empire. Yes to Jesus.” There’s a slogan you could put on a poster.

Palm Sunday is a prayer.

The people cried out to Jesus and to God: “Hosanna!” It’s a Hebrew word, used throughout the psalms especially, meaning “Save us” or “Help us.” It’s a plea for God to intercede. Would God act? The people surely wondered if this Jesus of Nazareth was God’s chosen one, like King David of a thousand years before, to drive the invaders out with a sling and a stone. Would he be like the Maccabean revolt, just two centuries earlier, that drive out the Seleucid Empire and set the Israelites free from foreign rule for a hundred years until the Romans invaded? Would Jesus save?

By the end of the week, they would have an answer. This Jesus was not a king who triumphed in single combat or raised armies. This Jesus was a king with thorns for a crown and a cross for a throne.

And still, Jesus was the answer to their prayer. Jesus does save. Not the way they expected, to be sure. He saves through suffering. His glory is in shame. He makes victory through loss. He gives life by death.

Palm Sunday is a parade, a protest, and a prayer.

It is also a promise: Jesus really is king, and our king will save his people.