Palm Sunday - Luke 19:28–40
We gather today on the threshold of Holy Week, a time when the great archetypal drama of descent, death, and resurrection unfolds once more — not only in the story of Jesus, but in the landscape of our own souls. Palm Sunday begins this journey with paradox: a triumphant procession of a king, yet one who comes in humility the name of peace and love.
This morning’s Gospel reading from Luke 19:28 - 40 offers us the familiar scene of Jesus entering Jerusalem, welcomed by crowds with shouts of joy. But Luke’s version is subtle, distinctive, and with its own nuance. If we pause and look closely, we may find that this is not just a story about the past — it’s a parable for our times.
Interestingly, unlike Matthew and Mark, Luke does not mention palms, nor does he refer to the people shouting “Hosanna.” Instead, the people shout, “Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” an echo of the angelic chorus at Jesus’ birth earlier in Luke’s Gospel (Luke 2:14). Peace at the beginning. Peace at the end.
This is one of Luke’s key perspectives. His Gospel, more than the others, highlights Jesus as a prophet of peace and inclusion — someone who consistently uplifts the poor, welcomes outsiders, and critiques the powerful with both compassion and clarity.
Only Luke tells the story of the Good Samaritan the despised outsider who reaches out compassionately across the ethnic and sectarian divide
Only Luke includes the Magnificat, Mary’s song proclaiming that the proud will be scattered and the lowly lifted.
Only Luke gives us the story of Zacchaeus, the rich man who climbs a tree to see Jesus and then gives almost all of his wealth away.
And so when Jesus rides into Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel, he is not a warrior Messiah nor a celebrity preacher. He is a messenger and a bringer of peace. He comes not on a war horse, but on a borrowed colt – he does not even own the donkey he is riding. He comes not to dominate, but to demonstrate a different kind of power — the power of humility, of solidarity, of love in action.
In exploring this passage, it helps to remember the context. This was the time of Passover — a festival that recalled the ancient liberation of the Hebrews from the oppressive Egyptian Empire that held them as slaves. But in Jesus day they were once again a captured people – dominated and oppressed, but this time by Rome. Passover was therefore had very real political overtones. Revolutionary fervor ran high as many longed for freedom and a new liberation from their oppressors.
Marcus Borg a biblical scholar tells us that in this volatile situation in Jerusalem at the time of Passover, in a dramatic display of Roman power and authority, Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, would have processed into Jerusalem from the west with all the pomp and ceremony of a Roman military parade, banners flying, soldiers armed, and imperial power on full display with an increased military presence to quell any potential rebellions. By contrast, Jesus enters Jerusalem from the east in a very different procession riding on a humble colt.
Marcus Borg suggests that this stark contrast was not accidental. Jesus’ entry is a counter-procession, a kind of street theatre, one that draws on Jewish prophetic tradition as Jesus enacts a different way of being in the world – a procession of peace not through power and the sword, but a procession for peace through humility, integrity, solidarity and love. He was inviting his own people to put aside the way of revolutionary violence that would only bring upon itself more violence and to walk a different path a revolution of integrity and love.
As we explore Luke’s narrative we see that it is rich with references to the Hebrew Scriptures:
- The choice of a colt “on which no one has ever sat” (v. 30) echoes the purity laws for sacred use in Numbers and Deuteronomy. This is no ordinary animal. It’s a symbol of something new and pure, something set apart. Jesus enacts and embodies a deeper meaning of purity – the heart that refuses the way of violence and domination. Another interesting interpretation of the donkey is the it represents our animal nature that has been tamed and purified and put in the service of a greater cause.
- This image of a humble king riding on a donkey comes directly from Zechariah 9:9
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…”
But here’s what comes next in Zechariah: “…He shall command peace to the nations; his dominion shall be from sea to sea.”
For Zachariah, the one who comes in humility is the one who brings peace — not through force or violence, but through inner strength, through divine-centered action, integrity, selflessness, suffering love.
- And in Luke’s version of the story when the people shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”, they are quoting Psalm 118, a festival psalm traditionally sung at the gates of Jerusalem. It was a welcome given to pilgrims, but now offered to Jesus, the peasant rabbi, who turns their expectations inside out.
Luke ends this passage with a curious moment. Some religious Pharisees tell Jesus to rebuke his disciples. Perhaps they fear that such bold acclamations will stir political unrest. Perhaps they fear Jesus influence over the people.
But Jesus answers: “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would cry out.”
His words are not just poetic, but also deeply prophetic. In the Hebrew Scriptures, stones often symbolize both ‘witness’ and ‘judgment’. For example, the prophet Habakkuk once wrote: “The very stones will cry out from the wall, and the beams of the woodwork will echo it.” (Habakkuk 2:11). What Habakkuk is pointing to is that injustice cannot be hidden forever. The earth itself testifies when peace is denied and truth is silenced. Even creation longs for liberation. As St Paul writes in Romans: “...the whole creation groans as in the pains of child-birth… in anticipation and hope for the coming renewal and the coming glory of the children of God.” (Romans 8:18-22).
So what does all this mean for us?
Palm Sunday invites us to ask: What kind of procession are we part of?
Are we caught up in the noisy parades of ego, spectacle, and power? Or are we following the quiet path of peace, the one that challenges the injustices of this world without violence, that chooses humility over dominance, compassion over coercive control?
In a world still marked by militarism, injustice, and exclusion, the message of Palm Sunday is as relevant as ever. It is the quiet revolution of love that moves gently, yet decisively, through the hearts of those who refuse to play by the rules of empire and domination.
But this is not just a drama that plays out in the external world. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus reminds us that the Kingdom of God is within, a the Kingdom of the Heart. If we are to be bearers of peace and love in the world, the drama of Jesus processing into Jerusalem also needs to play out within each of us as well.
We are invited to allow Christ the humble messenger of peace to enter the city gates of our own being, to lay down our cloaks — our identities, our certainties, our ego masks — and to walk with him the path of humility, self-knowledge, integrity compassion and suffering love.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus weeps over Jerusalem just after this passage. He laments that they “did not recognize the time of their visitation” — the moment when the Divine drew near in gentle humility. May we not make the same mistake.
The path ahead leads through suffering, but also through surrender, and finally, to new life.
So let us open the gates — of the city, and of the soul — and welcome the One who comes in the name of Love and Peace.
We gather today on the threshold of Holy Week, a time when the great archetypal drama of descent, death, and resurrection unfolds once more — not only in the story of Jesus, but in the landscape of our own souls. Palm Sunday begins this journey with paradox: a triumphant procession of a king, yet one who comes in humility the name of peace and love.
This morning’s Gospel reading from Luke 19:28 - 40 offers us the familiar scene of Jesus entering Jerusalem, welcomed by crowds with shouts of joy. But Luke’s version is subtle, distinctive, and with its own nuance. If we pause and look closely, we may find that this is not just a story about the past — it’s a parable for our times.
Interestingly, unlike Matthew and Mark, Luke does not mention palms, nor does he refer to the people shouting “Hosanna.” Instead, the people shout, “Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” an echo of the angelic chorus at Jesus’ birth earlier in Luke’s Gospel (Luke 2:14). Peace at the beginning. Peace at the end.
This is one of Luke’s key perspectives. His Gospel, more than the others, highlights Jesus as a prophet of peace and inclusion — someone who consistently uplifts the poor, welcomes outsiders, and critiques the powerful with both compassion and clarity.
Only Luke tells the story of the Good Samaritan the despised outsider who reaches out compassionately across the ethnic and sectarian divide
Only Luke includes the Magnificat, Mary’s song proclaiming that the proud will be scattered and the lowly lifted.
Only Luke gives us the story of Zacchaeus, the rich man who climbs a tree to see Jesus and then gives almost all of his wealth away.
And so when Jesus rides into Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel, he is not a warrior Messiah nor a celebrity preacher. He is a messenger and a bringer of peace. He comes not on a war horse, but on a borrowed colt – he does not even own the donkey he is riding. He comes not to dominate, but to demonstrate a different kind of power — the power of humility, of solidarity, of love in action.
In exploring this passage, it helps to remember the context. This was the time of Passover — a festival that recalled the ancient liberation of the Hebrews from the oppressive Egyptian Empire that held them as slaves. But in Jesus day they were once again a captured people – dominated and oppressed, but this time by Rome. Passover was therefore had very real political overtones. Revolutionary fervor ran high as many longed for freedom and a new liberation from their oppressors.
Marcus Borg a biblical scholar tells us that in this volatile situation in Jerusalem at the time of Passover, in a dramatic display of Roman power and authority, Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, would have processed into Jerusalem from the west with all the pomp and ceremony of a Roman military parade, banners flying, soldiers armed, and imperial power on full display with an increased military presence to quell any potential rebellions. By contrast, Jesus enters Jerusalem from the east in a very different procession riding on a humble colt.
Marcus Borg suggests that this stark contrast was not accidental. Jesus’ entry is a counter-procession, a kind of street theatre, one that draws on Jewish prophetic tradition as Jesus enacts a different way of being in the world – a procession of peace not through power and the sword, but a procession for peace through humility, integrity, solidarity and love. He was inviting his own people to put aside the way of revolutionary violence that would only bring upon itself more violence and to walk a different path a revolution of integrity and love.
As we explore Luke’s narrative we see that it is rich with references to the Hebrew Scriptures:
- The choice of a colt “on which no one has ever sat” (v. 30) echoes the purity laws for sacred use in Numbers and Deuteronomy. This is no ordinary animal. It’s a symbol of something new and pure, something set apart. Jesus enacts and embodies a deeper meaning of purity – the heart that refuses the way of violence and domination. Another interesting interpretation of the donkey is the it represents our animal nature that has been tamed and purified and put in the service of a greater cause.
- This image of a humble king riding on a donkey comes directly from Zechariah 9:9
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…”
But here’s what comes next in Zechariah: “…He shall command peace to the nations; his dominion shall be from sea to sea.”
For Zachariah, the one who comes in humility is the one who brings peace — not through force or violence, but through inner strength, through divine-centered action, integrity, selflessness, suffering love.
- And in Luke’s version of the story when the people shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”, they are quoting Psalm 118, a festival psalm traditionally sung at the gates of Jerusalem. It was a welcome given to pilgrims, but now offered to Jesus, the peasant rabbi, who turns their expectations inside out.
Luke ends this passage with a curious moment. Some religious Pharisees tell Jesus to rebuke his disciples. Perhaps they fear that such bold acclamations will stir political unrest. Perhaps they fear Jesus influence over the people.
But Jesus answers: “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would cry out.”
His words are not just poetic, but also deeply prophetic. In the Hebrew Scriptures, stones often symbolize both ‘witness’ and ‘judgment’. For example, the prophet Habakkuk once wrote: “The very stones will cry out from the wall, and the beams of the woodwork will echo it.” (Habakkuk 2:11). What Habakkuk is pointing to is that injustice cannot be hidden forever. The earth itself testifies when peace is denied and truth is silenced. Even creation longs for liberation. As St Paul writes in Romans: “...the whole creation groans as in the pains of child-birth… in anticipation and hope for the coming renewal and the coming glory of the children of God.” (Romans 8:18-22).
So what does all this mean for us?
Palm Sunday invites us to ask: What kind of procession are we part of?
Are we caught up in the noisy parades of ego, spectacle, and power? Or are we following the quiet path of peace, the one that challenges the injustices of this world without violence, that chooses humility over dominance, compassion over coercive control?
In a world still marked by militarism, injustice, and exclusion, the message of Palm Sunday is as relevant as ever. It is the quiet revolution of love that moves gently, yet decisively, through the hearts of those who refuse to play by the rules of empire and domination.
But this is not just a drama that plays out in the external world. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus reminds us that the Kingdom of God is within, a the Kingdom of the Heart. If we are to be bearers of peace and love in the world, the drama of Jesus processing into Jerusalem also needs to play out within each of us as well.
We are invited to allow Christ the humble messenger of peace to enter the city gates of our own being, to lay down our cloaks — our identities, our certainties, our ego masks — and to walk with him the path of humility, self-knowledge, integrity compassion and suffering love.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus weeps over Jerusalem just after this passage. He laments that they “did not recognize the time of their visitation” — the moment when the Divine drew near in gentle humility. May we not make the same mistake.
The path ahead leads through suffering, but also through surrender, and finally, to new life.
So let us open the gates — of the city, and of the soul — and welcome the One who comes in the name of Love and Peace.
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