Questions concerning Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday, the Sunday preceding Easter, commemorates Jesus’ entrance into the city of Jerusalem and is also called the Triumphal Entry. The event, full of contrasts, raises several questions with great implications for our lives—questions that impart important lessons.
First, what characterizes a triumphal life? One might wonder why the Church calls this event the Triumphal Entry when there was nothing triumphant about it.
To be sure, on that first Palm Sunday, there was no evidence of triumph, nor any signs of a military conquest. The Rabbi from Nazareth came riding into town on a donkey accompanied by a group of friends and followers who sang songs and waved branches. In what sense was this triumph?
It was a triumph over a precarious situation. Jesus knew that both civic and religious leadership were against him. His forthright preaching and firm stance on issues had brought him into conflict with the authorities. He knew that Jerusalem was a danger zone where he would be treated violently. Humanly speaking, all his natural instincts must have cried out against his journey.
Yet, despite this, “He set his face to Jerusalem.” This was a very bold, courageous and heroic act. Jesus marched toward Jerusalem for the last time to take his spiritual stand and to demonstrate in person the Way, the Truth and the Life. That in itself was a triumphant act—the indomitable courage to enter a city that breathed death was the Triumphal Entry.
There are times when we must take a stance and let the chips fall where they may. We cannot avoid the dangers of standing by our convictions or shift our responsibility to other shoulders. We must have the courage to be and do what our human nature, with its divine dimensions, requires. We must have the courage of our convictions, as well as their consequences.
The second question that arises from the Triumphal Entry is: What is true success and greatness?
We live in a success-oriented culture. We are devotees of the cult of success. We are pushed by a drive to excel. For some, the desire to succeed has become almost a religion.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with aspiring to succeed. However, the temptation is to lionize those who can make waves. Moreover, we often forget that not all successes stand on the same level—nor do all failures. Some successes, in terms of human worth, are miserable failures, while some apparent failures are life’s biggest successes.
By human standards, Jesus’ mission was a failure. A few days after his Triumphal Entry, the King who came to the capital city on the back of a donkey was arrested, ridiculed, persecuted and put to death like a common criminal.
By human standards, the Cross was a failure—a defeat. It was the end of an unsuccessful valor. Enemies and friends alike said, “Others he saved; himself he could not.” But, if Christianity prevailed, it was because of that sacrificial act of Jesus.
The events of Palm Sunday also demonstrate that true greatness is not based on might, physical power or brute force. The name of the game is neither power nor popularity. Meekness is not weakness. Sometimes, the tender blade of grass cracks the concrete wall in a way that the marching of many feet never could. The most creative, productive and powerful ways to manage human relationships are love, concern and service.
Here was a man—an utterly unselfish man—who went about doing good. He spoke of a Kingdom that was not one of “sword and fire.” He did not stir people with military talk and revolution, but calmly spoke of love, peace and service. Yes, he spoke of a kingdom whose arsenal was love. Many kingdoms have been established and destroyed, many kings have come and gone, but the world is still celebrating the beauty of his great life. For this eternal Kingdom, millions have laid their lives on the altar of service and sacrifice.
The third question prompted by the Triumphal Entry is: From where do people take their cues?
On that first Palm Sunday, people joined in the bandwagon chanting, “Hosanna.” Five days later, on Friday, they were shouting, “Crucify him.” On that Palm Sunday, there was applause and adulation. On Friday, Jesus faced the censure and hostility of the crowd. Even some of his friends took their cues from the crowd.
Typical mob psychology! Nothing has changed. Even today the Church is filled with parrots, endlessly repeating meaningless cant, but with little conviction. When life is easy, they sing “Hosanna,” but in the time of trial, they shout, “Crucify him.”
Today, as it was then, people still worship the god of numbers and bow at the shrine of noise. In their eagerness to please everybody, they end up pleasing nobody—not even themselves! The question remains: Who decides the course of our lives? From where do we take our cue?
A final question: What priority does God get with us?
God was always the highest priority in Jesus’ life. On the day of the Triumphal Entry, as throughout his life, he was determined to do the will of God. He was not concerned with public opinion. Because his life was founded on God, he was not affected by the applause or censure of others. He knew how to set priorities. He never majored in minors. He wisely discerned the most important issues of life and gave himself to those things without reserve.
In our money-motivated, fun-and-comfort-loving culture, amid the hectic pace of modern living, God somehow gets pushed out of our thoughts and out of our lives. He becomes a religious luxury! Perhaps that is why some would change their “hosannas” to “crucify him” and would auction their souls for less than 30 pieces of silver.
The question then was, and still continues to be: What priority does God get with us?