Palm Sunday – Fr. Barko
Mk 14:1—15:47
March 24, 2024

The palms we hold during the ritual procession are an imitation of what the local people did long ago, the ones who lined the road. This opening part of the ceremony is more than just another historical reminiscence, it is a proclamation today of Jesus as king. It is the first half of the jarring contrast.

You may not have noticed the kingly aspect specifically, but there are multiple clues in the. First, he rode on a donkey or colt, an animal that was used for royalty’s entrance into a city.

Second, the disciples spread their cloaks over the colt’s back as they would for someone royal.

Then the crowds along the way treated Jesus as a kingly hero. They spread out their coats on the roadway and covered them with palm branches cut from the fields.

It was a symbol to soften the pathway for the kingly one: to keep the dirt off of him. And they cried out, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

The King.

Growing up, I always thought that Palm Sunday was a really fun day – at Mass. My siblings and I began by picking out the best-looking palms (and I would try my best not to wave them around too much).

Then, Mass started with a reading about the crowd welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem and praising him with “Hosanna in the highest!”

When the Liturgy of the Word began, things abruptly turned to today’s gospel. Even to a kid, the suffering of Jesus on his way to the cross is powerful and strange, through that VERY long reading.

In my church, the congregation would speak the crowd’s words, “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

I never knew how to feel about that. I couldn’t imagine being in that crowd wanting to kill someone, especially Jesus, after praising him as the King of Kings.

As I’ve gotten older, of course I have come to realize that Palm Sunday does indeed fit together, and it fits together through the eyes of the crowd.

The crowd is the counterpoint to Jesus.

Instead of remaining firm in purpose and identity like Jesus, the crowd is fickle, moving swiftly from praise and honor to condemnation and hatred.

I am so often a member of that crowd. We all are. We cheer and honor Jesus with our words and, at times, even strive for true holiness, yet we also stray from God and choose sin and selfishness.

To be human is to be in this very state of fluctuation: to strive, to fail, to turn back, to fail again, and ultimately (hopefully) to always turn towards God again and again as many times as it takes.

This Palm Sunday, I pray that we work to reconcile these two parts of ourselves. On this side of the veil of tears, we may never be perfect.

We may often fall and join the crowd in crucifying Jesus, but we must also remember the Passion is not the end, and there is resurrection yet to come.

I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; my face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.

You or I would have probably cried out, “My God, why have you abandoned me?”

But are these the words of a king? Does such a total surrender represent kingly action? What do you say? No!

But scripture says the opposite.

Yes.

Jesus, king of kings, “did not regard equality with God as something to cling to – or to grasp”—for safety or honor or for whatever other reason.

As the greatest king he emptied himself out, became like a slave, obedient even to death on the cross.

This, in allegiance to God and in service of the people.

On this day of the king, Jesus knew who he was, even under the worst strife.

He was and remains the one who loves, no matter what. We have here the opposite of the kind of greatness we always imagine: service of God’s people as the true basis of rulership.

A good ruler pulls a kingdom together and makes it safe, a place of abundance.

If they accomplished such a goal, no kingly suffering would be too great.

Palm/Passion Sunday is a large-scale revelation of kingship’s true meaning, a vision we in our country and the world, certainly need today.

Real love.