Preaching Paths, 29 March 2026, Liturgy of the Palms

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

Matthew 21:1-11 (Liturgy of the Palms)

The semantics of this text are, in part, kinetic and optic. In other words, its meaning is conveyed, in part, by the symbolism and timing of Jesus’ ride into the city of Jerusalem.  

Roman governors such as Pontius Pilate annually visited the major cities under their jurisdiction. Ancient sources indicate that such visits were often timed to coincide with major festivals in those cities. Thus, a Roman entourage would have entered Jerusalem just prior to the annual festival of Passover. At Passover, faithful Jews by the thousands, including Diaspora Jews, thronged into Jerusalem. The dense crowds, filled with religious ardor and potentially nationalistic fervor, might well have been regarded as a destabilizing threat to Roman control. The annual visit of a Roman entourage, including the governor, dozens of officials, and a military escort, would have high impact. They very likely entered from Jerusalem’s western gate.

To this point, Jesus, has sought to mute rumors that he is God’s chosen one—the Messiah, “the anointed.” But now, he chooses a donkey and rides into Jerusalem, echoing the prophetic vision of Zechariah 9:9. Furthermore, Jesus enters quite deliberately from the east, from the Mount of Olives (cf Ezekiel 46:12), as opposed to the entry point of the representatives of the Empire. Jesus’ humble mode of transport, coupled with the timing and direction of his entry, signifies a “reign” quite different from that of Rome. The shouts of “Hosanna!” (“Save/liberate us!”—cf. Psalm 118:25) clearly indicate the heightened messianic hope stirred by Jesus’ highly symbolic final entry into Jerusalem.

Strangely, in Matthew’s account, Jesus is said to use not one animal, but two, to enter Jerusalem. V 7 states that Jesus sat on “them” to ride into the city (v 7). One explanation is that Matthew is somehow unfamiliar with the customary poetic structure in Hebrew that follows one phrase with another similar (but not identical) one and thus reads Zechariah 9:9 incorrectly, concluding that two animals are involved. Whatever lies behind Matthew’s statement, we need not imagine Jesus rather oddly straddling two beasts; perhaps when one tires, he mounts the other. We have encountered this sort of doubling in Matthew in the immediately preceding passage, Mt 20:29-34. According to Matthew, Jesus encounters not one blind man, but two, at the outskirts of Jericho. The other Synoptics speak of just one.

As readers who know how this story will unfold, we join in the Hosannas, yet cannot put out of our minds what we know, and they do not: this adoring crowd will turn on Jesus. We can be almost certain that, underlying the Passover crowd’s clamorous welcome as Jesus rides into the city is based partly on a mistaken expectation that the miracle-working Jesus has come to confront and defeat the Roman occupiers. As the week progresses, and this showdown does not take place, ebullient joy will give way to the bitter resentment of a populace that believes it has been somehow misled.

Yet, every Palm Sunday, it is altogether fitting that we take up our palms fronds and shout our praise, for this one who rides into the holy city on a poor man’s mount is on his way to a victory no one could have imagined: the defeat of death itself.