Isn’t Palm Sunday the greatest? Parades, palm waving, a guy riding a donkey… to make things even better, there’s nothing traumatic or challenging about the scripture reading today, and we know all the hymns!! I mean life doesn’t get much better than this as far as Sunday morning at church goes! Except if there’s a potluck! Nothing better.
But as much as I’d love to move us right out into the world carrying this excitement and energy, it feels prudent to do a bit of faith work first. After all, today we stand at the threshold – we stand in this liminal time between the Season of Lent and the holiest week of our liturgical (church) year – and that deserves a few moments to pause.
Over the past five weeks we’ve been grounding ourselves in the exploration of the Good News. We’ve heard about water turning into the finest wine. We’ve watched as thousands were fed with just five loaves of bread and a few fish. We’ve seen Jesus welcome children, forgive sinners, and embrace outsiders. Again and again, Jesus has shown us – through word and action – just how wide and abundant God’s love really is – an expansive love that makes room for all in the kingdom of God.
But now we need to narrow our focus and zoom in closer. We turn with Jesus toward Jerusalem. Now we look to Jesus’ final week of ministry, towards the moments that lead to his arrest, his trial, his death – and yes, his resurrection.
But first, let’s linger in the story of Palm Sunday. It’s a story that isn’t hard to picture is it? Regardless of our experience with the scripture. As you hear the story could you see Jesus riding on a colt, or donkey? Maybe his feet dragging a little on the ground because the colt is on the small side. Can you hear the Hosanna’s echoing through the air? Can you feel the breeze created by the waving palm branches? We can imagine Jesus smiling as he makes his way, can’t we? Waving at the crowd, soaking it all in, walking the dusty road from Bethany and Bethphage to Jerusalem.
But here’s the thing – the Palm Sunday story, this so called “Triumphal Entry,” this moment that feels like it should be about Jesus – isn’t really about him. Not in Mark’s Gospel, anyway. In our gospel this morning the story isn’t about Jesus, it’s about everyone else. It’s about the two disciples who are sent to find the colt. It’s about the people who throw their cloaks on the colt’s back. It’s about the people who spread garments on the road and cut branches from the trees. Its about those who go ahead and those who follow behind, shouting “Hosanna! Save us!”
And Jesus is right at the center but he’s quiet. We know nothing about what he might be thinking or feeling – the author tells us nothing about what Jesus might have said in the moment. Instead, we’re given a living, breathing scene of people responding to all that is happening. And Mark adds one curious detail – a detail that doesn’t show up in the other versions of the story the other Gospels hold. Mark’s gospel has the parade taking place outside of the city. People gather on the road from Bethany and Bethphage, yearning to catch a glimpse of Jesus but once the parade makes its way through the city gates, the crowd is seemingly swallowed up by the crowds of Passover visitors and religious pilgrims cramming the city. Through the throngs of people, Jesus makes his way to the temple, spends a few minutes there, and then turns back to Bethany to stay with Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Just like that.
It’s a surprisingly subdued ending. A seemingly quiet pause before everything begins to unravel.
So, if the story isn’t really about Jesus, then it must be about the people. Here’s the thing, there is a long held idea that the crowd shouting “Hosanna” on Sunday is the same crowd shouting “crucify him” days later. But there’s no evidence for that thinking. It could be possible, as we know that crowds can be fickle and can turn quickly – but it’s just as likely that many of those who shouted during the parade simply fell silent.
Not because they stopped believing. They fell silent because they were afraid.
Afraid of the powers surrounding them. Afraid of what could happen if they spoke up in opposition of those powers. And that feels vaguely familiar. Because sometimes silence isn’t betrayal… it’s survival. It’s what people do when the cost of speaking feels too high.
But silence in the moment doesn’t mean that nothing happened after. Because Mark tells us something else: “those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting…” This opens up something bigger for us because there have always been people who have gone ahead of us on this road of faith. Both those ancient ones we read about in our scripture – but also people much closer to home.
Think for a moment: who has gone ahead of you?
Who planted the first seed of faith in your l ife? Who suggested that church might actually be meaningful? Who showed you that following Jesus wasn’t about sitting quietly and behaving – but about doing real things that make the world more just and more compassionate? Maybe it was a parent or a grandparent. A Sunday school teacher? A friend? A mentor?
Take a moment – really – to think of them. Maybe even whisper their name in your heart.
The truth is that this parade has been going on for a very long time. And that’s where the good news meets us today. Because the good news isn’t just something we hear. It’s something that inspires us to act. Palm Sunday isn’t just a celebration, it’s a movement.
You see, as Jesus was making his way into the city on a colt, there was another parade taking place in town – one you don’t hear about in the gospel. For on the other side of the city a Roman procession was taking place – the governor entering the city for Passover week, making his way in surrounded by soldiers, power, wealth, intimidation. It’s a show of force, reminding the people of who is in charge. And then – on the other side – is Jesus. No war horse. No armour. No army. Just a borrowed colt, and a ragtag crowd.
And it’s parade that pulses with life. His movement that feels real. His leadership that rings true. All because its for all people – the poor, the hungry, the afraid, the overlooked. And they respond by throwing down their cloaks, waving branches and shouting. The good news moves them – so will it move us?
Because as we head into holy week, something shifts. He stops teaching in parables and starts embodying everything he’s been teaching. He lives it fully, right to the end. And the invitation is clear: our faith isn’t meant to stay in our heads. It is meant to move from our hearts and our history into our hands and feet. What those who have gone before us have shown us that we are to bring together our prayers and our action, that we are to embody our belief. So what does the good news inspire you to do?
When the world leans toward division, will you choose connection?
When voices grow loud with judgment, will you speak -even softly -words of love?
When faith is used to exclude or control, will you keep Jesus as the center – the one who serves, includes and liberates?
In a world pulling toward isolation, will you keep showing up for community – not perfect, not polished but real?
Because this parade is still moving and it needs people who won’t disappear. Rev. Carla Blakely, Lutheran Biship to Ontario, wrote this week: “Palm Sunday isn’t just a celebration – it’s a celebration. It’s a protest. It’s an interruption. It’s the moment when hope finds its voice. The question isn’t only what happened back then – it’s what are we going to chose to do today?
So no, I am not going to ask you to show down angry crowds every day (though honestly, if you want to try, I’ll support you). But I am asking you this: don’t disappear. Don’t go quiet forever. Don’t assume your voice, your heart doesn’t matter. Because whether it’s a shout or a whisper, this story needs your voice. This movement needs your presence.
The good news is God’s love is still breaking into the world.
The good news is Jesus is still showing us another way.
The good news is this parade is still moving.
And the good news is that it’s our turn now. May we be brave enough to take our place…not perfectly, not loudly, not fearlessly but faithfully. May we keep Christ at the center of what we do, May we live this good news – in how we love, how we act, how we show up. And whether it’s a shout or a whisper, may we find our voice and join the song: Hosanna. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Amen.
