This coming Sunday is known in the church as Palm Sunday, and for me, it always evokes a lot of happy childhood memories. Where I grew up in the Rhondda Valley in South Wales, the days leading up to it were spent putting flowers on the graves of loved ones we’d lost. I still don’t know if this is just a Welsh tradition or whether it’s done elsewhere. Perhaps someone reading this can tell me. then on Palm Sunday itself, we paraded through our village from one church to another, obviously in an effort to portray what happened when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on his donkey. We carried palm crosses, and the brownies, guides, and scouts had flags. One year, I was given the privilege of baring the flag for the brownies, and it felt like a huge honour. These days churches seem to prefer to have their marches on Good Friday, but back then, it was always Palm Sunday. Or at least, it was for us.
Traditions are great and fun to look back on, but what do they actually point to? Lately, as we build up to the time when we remember our Lord’s death on the Cross and his amazing resurrection, I’ve found myself pondering the events of that first Palm Sunday and asking a few questions. Mainly, how could the same people who greeted Jesus with such joy and enthusiasm one day turn on him and demand his crucifixion in less than a week?
In case you’re not familiar with the story, it’s told in all four of the gospels, and each account adds a little more insight to the others. For example, it’s in John chapter 12 that we discover that one of the reasons why the crowds were so hyped up about Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem was because they’d heard about the resurrection of his friend Lazarus after three days in the grave. Surely this must be a great man indeed – a man worthy of being their king! (John 12: 17-18.)
I recently discovered through a study book that the donkey tended to be the chosen animal on which a king rode, so the scene was surely set. Jesus had chosen his beast beforehand, and when he told his disciples to go and fetch it, he assured them that if anyone asked awkward questions, all they had to do was say the Lord had need of it, and the donkey would be theirs for a temporary lend. (Mark 11: 2-3.) All very straightforward so far.
Close your eyes for a moment and picture the scene. The crowds are pumped up and excited, just as we see so often today at high profile sporting events or even royal appearances. Curious onlookers were drawn in, probably not even sure why they were there, just lured by the spectacle of it all. They line the roads waving and cheering. They throw their cloaks down to create the equivalent of a red carpet, and they shout: “Praise God for the Son of David! Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Praise God in highest heaven!” (Matthew 21: 9.) Up until this point, David was their greatest king, and the fact that they were calling Jesus the Son of David just shows us what they were hoping for.
After years of subjection to Roman rule, surely now their king and their promised Messiah had come to set them free. But how would he do it? What were the crowds expecting? Some have suggested it was a military leader – someone who was going to overthrow the Romans by force. If this was so, then it would explain why they were so quickly disappointed, because Jesus’ first port of call was the temple, where we are told he drove out all the people buying and selling the animals for sacrifice, knocked over the tables of the money changers and those selling doves, and proclaimed the temple as a house of prayer rather than a den of thieves. Definitely not what they were expecting. (Matthew 21: 12-13.) it is unclear whether he did this on the day of his arrival or the following day, but it doesn’t matter. The point is that he was showing the people that his priorities were different from theirs. he desired to restore their worship to its rightful place, not to give them temporary military victory. He knew the real enemy of their souls was Satan rather than the Romans.
In Luke, we read that as Jesus neared the city of Jerusalem and looked down upon the crowds cheering his arrival, rather than rejoicing, he wept. (Luke 19: 41-44.) Why was Jesus weeping in the midst of their jubilation? Because he knew what was going to come, both for himself, and for the people he loved so dearly. He knew that within a couple of decades, Jerusalem would be trampled by its enemies, because they did not recognise that God was visiting them.
It’s so easy for a person to go from hero to zero in a matter of days. I believe today it’s called the cancel culture. A person can be proclaimed the best thing since sliced bread one week and spat at the next. Social media has really played into the hands of these kinds of attitudes. Everything so-called celebrities say is analysed to death. And if they put one foot out of place, woe betide them. It’s a lot of pressure, and we see many stars crumpling under its weight. It’s easy to become famous these days. All you seem to need is to make a few videos that go viral online. You sit back and count your followers and congratulate yourself on having made it. Then the following week, only half a dozen people watch your videos and someone else is the latest craze.
For Jesus, it was much worse than a waning in popularity on social media. Those same people who praised him on Palm Sunday were calling for his blood on Good Friday because he hadn’t lived up to their expectations. Yet we know the full story. We know that no hero will ever equal the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, because no one else can or will save us from our sins. Jesus knew it all because he was God. He knew those crowds would turn on him, and he accepted it as his Father’s will.
Before I spend too much time pointing the finger at those who changed their attitude to Jesus so quickly, I need to pause and take a long hard look at myself. Have there been times when I have fallen victim to the cancel culture? Have I even used it against my Lord? I’d love to say no, but there have been moments when I’ve found myself crying on my bedroom floor blaming Jesus for not intervening in my life in the way I thought he should. This wasn’t the script he should have written. I was so sure of how it would all work out. Only it didn’t, and I was left with a nasty taste in my mouth, blaming him for failing to keep promises he didn’t actually make.
Loving and trusting Jesus means resting in the knowledge that he always knows best, even when life doesn’t turn out as we hope. Dark times will come. If our Saviour hadn’t gone to the Cross on good Friday, we wouldn’t be able to celebrate the empty tomb on Resurrection Sunday. Without the night, we wouldn’t appreciate the true beauty when the sun rises at the dawn of a new day. his lessons and the trials of life are designed to draw us closer to him – to make us more dependant rather than to push us away.
So this year, as I consider again that Palm Sunday crowd, I can only say: “I wish they’d understood what was truly happening.” They wanted a king like David, but they were in the presence of God himself come in the flesh. Their outlook was limited to the earthly, and they weren’t allowing him to open their spiritual eyes. I pray I will learn their lesson, and not be so quick to fall victim to things like the cancel culture. Jesus has a plan for you and for me. his work of salvation on our behalf was completed at Calvary. All we have to do is embrace it and say thank you.
So let’s spread out our Palm branches, sing our Hosannas, and rejoice this Palm Sunday!