"Jesus' Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem"

Oftentimes on this Palm Sunday, the story about Jesus’s procession into Jerusalem is coupled with the Passion story. But today, we’re going to hang out with just the procession story because it is so rich, so meaningful, and so relevant for many of us today. It’s such a vibrant story that we read it twice! Come back for Good Friday services and we’ll experience the Passion story gospel then.

Let’s set the stage for today’s gospel. Scholars generally agree that Jesus and his disciples were in Jerusalem for the Passover festival. John’s gospel explicitly says so and the Last Supper was a Passover meal. Passover was a big deal and the city would have been flooded with crowds of people - remember that it was during the Passover festival in Jerusalem  when Jesus was 12 years old that his parents actually left him behind by mistake. And with great crowds of people came a greater Roman police presence. So, when Jesus rides into Jerusalem in a manner resembling a royal parade, you bet that he knew he’d get some attention from the authorities.

But before we go there, I want to talk about the city into which Jesus rode. You may (or may not) remember that we read Luke’s version of this story during the first Sunday of Lent. Luke’s is a triumphal scene, very similar to Matthew’s version of it. But there are a few key differences, some more significant than others. In both versions, the people threw their cloaks on the road. Sister Emma Loaz clarifies that “spreading clothing to carpet a person’s path was a way to honor the person as royalty. It was a sign of laying one’s life down in homage and submission to a coming King.”1 But Luke leaves out the branches and don’t even get me started on Matthew’s insistence that Jesus somehow rode a colt and a donkey at the same time like some kind of Buffalo Bill trick rider. (If you’re looking for a rabbit hole to go down, start trying to figure out that one!)

But there is a glaring and important difference in Matthew’s depiction of Jerusalem when held against Luke’s. In Luke’s story, the crowd says, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heaven!” (Luke 19:38). In Matthew’s version, the people shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Matt. 21:9) Did you know that “Hosanna” is a cry for help? Until very recently, I didn’t, and I consider myself pretty churchy. In both Hebrew and ancient Greek, “Hosanna” means “Save us” or “Help us”2. The people lining the road during Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem were crying out “Help us Son of David!” and “Save us in the highest heaven!” And at the end of today’s gospel, Matthew says plainly that “when [Jesus] entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil” (Matt. 21:10). The Greek word Matthew used to express this turmoil is a derivative of σειό (say-O), closely related to seismos or an earthquake.3 The city was shaken, it was agitated, it was trembling. It is the same word used to describe the earth’s response after Jesus takes his last breath in Matthew 27 and the earthquake that met Mary Magdalene when she goes to the tomb and sees an angel roll the stone away from the tomb. This is not a scene of happy people waving palms. The people were pleading for help, laying down their cloaks and honoring Jesus as the king who can save them, not metaphorically from existential sin, but from the brutality and oppression of the Roman Empire. To erase the political dimension of our Palm Sunday text is to promote an inauthentic interpretation of the gospel. It is to ignore the desperation of God’s people in the face of governmental persecution and the courageous hope they put in Jesus.

Does the story change for you when you see it through this lens? Can you recognize the audaciousness of Jesus’s very public demonstration that amplifies a vision of God’s kingdom that is completely opposite to Rome’s?  And this happened during the festival of Passover - a celebration of Jewish liberation from slavery, mind you - when Roman eyes were on the lookout for trouble. Do you recognize the despairing agitation of the crowd who publicly resists empire (likely at great personal risk) to make way for radical new leadership in Jesus? This was no happenstance occurrence. Jesus knew full well what he was setting in motion through today’s story. And in just one week, he will be crucified for it before being resurrected, fulfilling Scripture and bringing a breathtaking liberation to all of God’s people.

And when you look at the story this way, you can see that Palm Sunday might be seen as a mass protest of sorts. A people in turmoil come together in hope to stand for a new vision, set in motion through the ministry and teaching of Jesus. They have experienced God’s love in the midst of suffering and know that something better is possible. Like so many of us who held up signs yesterday made from discarded cardboard taped to paint sticks, the Palm Sunday crowd used what they had to make a statement, just ordinary objects. They laid down their cloaks and cut branches from nearby trees. As I thought back through this Palm Sunday journey we’ve been on together, I was struck with the abundance of ordinary in the Lenten readings.

On Wednesday nights, we started Lent with Isaiah 40 where the prophet tells us to prepare the wilderness for our God. Mary Eagle reflected on what that means to her - Mary so generously shared that, for her, it means showing up. Just showing up. Not being more than we are, but letting go and being open to sacred encounter with God. It’s prayer. Ordinary, regular prayer in whatever form that is for you. Mary makes mandalas, showing up to Jesus in the wilderness through spontaneous art. Mandalas are prayers she makes on ordinary days with what she has.

Then Josh Stager reflected on the story of Nicodemus, a Jewish leader who came to Jesus under the cover of night. Josh named the realities of violence in this time of war and how confusing it is. While Josh rightly stated that these are not ordinary times, he uplifted the abundance of the Spirit who guides us and moves through us like the wind that Jesus describes. In the ordinary darkness, Nicodemus finds the light in Jesus.

On the next Wednesday evening, Pr. John Reutter-Harrah shared the story of the man born blind and how Jesus restored his sight. In that story, Jesus uses ordinary mud and spit to give the man sight. Jesus looks around, sees what he has in front of him, and uses it to change this man’s life forever. John told several stories about how this concept has played out for him in his own ministry. How comments we might see today as ordinary offered healing for LGBTQIA+ listeners when they most needed it.

Then Pr. Peggy Luckman reflected on the story of the woman at the well when Jesus sees her - truly sees her - and liberates her from her shame. Peggy explicitly talked about the ordinariness of the day for this woman and how her encounter with Jesus at the well forever changed her. In this case, Jesus uses plain old truth and compassion to open up her life, propel her ahead with courage, and restore her to the love of her community. Peggy told the story of a time when a seemingly ordinary cleaning woman shared that truth and compassion with her and how it transformed her own suffering.

Finally, this past Wednesday evening, Karen Brennen shepherded us through the story of Lazarus, who Jesus raised from death. She talked about how she rides along with Jesus in the ordinariness of her commute, never knowing how long the I-5 Wilsonville vortex will keep her there in the car, and how Jesus’s presence with her along life’s journey eases the burden a bit. She also reminded us that Jesus had all the emotions and those ordinary feelings made way for God’s signs. And they still do today.

But I’ve noticed that in these last few weeks, my own emotions are getting the best of me. My resolve to stand tall in the face of seemingly unstoppable empire has been getting weaker. With each headline lamenting the price of oil with no mention of the price of life, I lean just that much farther in the direction of fear and scarcity. There’s just not enough. I’m not special enough to make a difference. There’s not enough opposition. Not enough money. Not enough energy. Not enough time. Not enough hope. But spending time this week with today’s gospel and all of the stories from this Palm Sunday path shook me awake and reminded me that there is an astonishing abundance of the sacred ordinary. And that the ordinary can heal the world.

And I saw that in spades yesterday with millions of people who are in turmoil, agitated, and desperate for political change coming together on street corners and in public spaces throughout the country. CBS reported that about 8 million ordinary people in over ordinary 3,300 locations came together throughout the world yesterday to stand for justice. That’s a million more people than the last event in October. I stood shoulder to shoulder with children, seniors, interfaith clergy, the rich, the poor, everyone in between, and yes, inflatable animals, all shouting a version of “Hosanna!”, “Help us!”, “Save us!”.

And while I think it’s too far a stretch to equate the protests to the significance of Jesus’s Palm Sunday procession, I do believe in the audacious hope and healing that comes when God’s people - we are all God’s people - make a holy ruckus in the name of liberation steeped in love. That is the Palm Sunday path.

This next week is going to be hard. Jesus has publicly set in motion his own crucifixion. We will revisit the Last Supper and the Passion story before we can celebrate the Resurrection next Easter Sunday. But I invite you to spend the week noticing all the holy ordinary in your life. Pay attention to the ways that the path for Jesus’s promise of new life and God’s radical love open up in the mundane, the overlooked, the ordinary. Make a note of each time something plain presents itself as a tool to extend Christ’s love. Where can you wave your branches and lay down your cloak to welcome Jesus? You might be surprised. You might be refreshed. And you might be filled with the hope that comes from crying out “Hosanna” together in love.      

1 Carmelitesistersocd.com. “Laying down Our Cloaks for Jesus.” Accessed March 24, 2026. https://carmelitesistersocd.com/2025/laying-down-our-cloaks-for-jesus

2 Seymour, Julie. “The Meaning of ‘Hosanna!’” Gathermagazine.org, April 18, 2022. https://www.gathermagazine.org/10537-2/.

3 Tesch, Bill. “[Week 6] Jesus’s Triumphal Entry.” Working Preacher from Luther Seminary, January 22, 2026. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/palm-sunday-jesuss-triumphal-entry-matthews-version

4 CBS News. “Millions Turn out for ‘No Kings’ Rallies Held Worldwide to Protest against Trump,” March 28, 2026. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/no-kings-rallies-protest-trump-millions/

Jesus' Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem