Palm Sunday marks the threshold of Holy Week. Two thousand years ago, people went from singing Christ’s praises as he entered Jerusalem to crucifying him in less than a week. It is a staggering example of human fickleness—turning on someone with a speed we usually associate with modern social media “canceling,” yet they did it without any digital help.
Jesus saw it coming where no one else did. He knew people are always quick to jump on the bandwagon, but even quicker to jump off. The distance between “Hosanna” and “Crucify Him” is much shorter than we care to admit.
This morning in many churches, congregants will parade into service carrying palms. There is value in that tradition, but there is also value in stepping back to examine the spiritual layers beneath the celebration.
The crowd in Jerusalem suffered from a form of spiritual confirmation bias. They were looking for a Lion, but God sent a Lamb. Living under the Roman boot, the people desired a military liberator. They saw the donkey not as a sign of humility (as prophesied in Zechariah 9:9), but as a temporary placeholder for a warhorse. We often do the same with our leaders or with God Himself. We “celebrate the version of the person we want them to be” rather than who they actually are.
In a crowd, individual conscience is often traded for collective momentum. On Palm Sunday, it was the momentum of praise; by Good Friday, it was the momentum of rage.
Holy Week challenges us to step out of the crowd—to be the one person who stays when the “bulls” are running in the opposite direction. It asks us to examine where we are following the “status quo” of our social or political circles rather than the “Still Small Voice.” When we stop running with the crowd, we finally become capable of true witness. If the crowd had stopped shouting long enough to look at the man on the donkey, they might have seen his tears (Luke 19:41). He wasn’t enjoying a triumph; he was mourning a missed opportunity.
Imagine if the crowds had only stopped to realize that God was in their presence. Instead of demanding their expectancy, they could have listened to what he had to say. Maybe that’s the message of the beginning of Holy Week: instead of rushing into the week and celebrating a man on a donkey, we should stop and listen to him.
Palm Sunday is a mirror. It reflects our tendency to jump on bandwagons and our haste to abandon those who disappoint our earthly expectations. The spiritual challenge is to put down the palm branch of “what I want” and pick up the cross of “what is true.” Instead of rushing toward the Resurrection, we are invited to sit with the “Man on the Donkey” and listen—not to the roar of the crowd, but to the radical, quiet wisdom of a King who conquered through surrender.
I love this. Reminding me of where to concentrate my efforts, both this week and always…not with the crowd but with the quieter message of love. Thanks!
Thank you so much Jessi. Happy Easter! Webb.