Palm Sunday

The triumphal entry in ancient Rome was a spectacle. The conquering emperor or general, whether Pompey or Julius Caesar or Augustus Caesar or Claudius or Nero, would return to Rome with all the spoils of war and the bragging rights of kingdom authority.

In preparation for his arrival, the streets would be cleaned, the city beautified and the people lined up along the parade routes. Livestock and treasures taken from defeated enemies would be paraded through the streets, much to the delight of the salivating crowd.

Captured men and women and children, trafficked from their homes, now enslaved, would be marched through the city, sometimes on the way to their execution, jeered and mocked for their weakness and failure. Roman soldiers, impressive in stature, armor and weaponry, would march line by line in a powerful display.

Caesar would then enter to a throng of celebration, high upon his chariot, lifted up for all to see, led by white stallions, surrounded by his royal guards. Some accounts suggest that the conquering king might paint himself red, depicting the blood that was shed by him and for him. This conquering ruler would then ascend the steps of the Temple of Jupiter and turn around to be praised by the crowds of Rome.

A man. A king. A god.

Impressive. Powerful. Triumphant.

A different kind of triumphal entry

Now, if there ever were a king who could have chosen to enter a city with a triumphal entry such as this—with even more grandeur than this — it would have been Jesus.

The Bible describes Him as a king robed in majesty and armed with strength, sitting upon an eternal throne (Psalm 93). He is a king who puts on a garment of light and stretches out the heavens and rides a chariot of clouds (Psalm 104). Jesus is an everlasting king who carries the government of the world on His shoulders because He is, in fact, the Almighty God himself (Isaiah 9:6).

Yet the “triumphal entry” of Jesus was different than we might expect.

In Matthew 21, Jesus came into the city of Jerusalem at the beginning of the week of the Passover celebrations. Crowds of thousands of people filled the streets to welcome Him. They waved palm branches, symbolizing victory and triumph. But their “king” hadn’t come in a display of power and conquering. Armies did not accompany Him. There were no spoils of war. There were no white horses. He did not ride an ornate chariot. His arrival, instead, was deliberately marked by humility.

Jesus entered Jerusalem riding on the colt of a donkey.

The humble triumph of the Prince of Peace

The humble posture of the Prince of Peace—the Anointed One—was unmistakable. Isaiah 62:11 and Zechariah 9:9 anticipated a day when the Messiah, God’s anointed king, would triumphantly enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey.

The coming of the Savior would bring abundance and freedom. His people would be called Redeemed, for their king would carry with him salvation and peace for all nations through an unending rule.

A king arriving on a donkey might seem odd to us now in this day of Shrek and bullet-proof SUVs and legions of armies and paparazzi. But in biblical times, a donkey held a rather obscure but important sovereign status symbol. In those years when peace was being ushered in, some rulers occasionally rode into a city on a beast of burden, indicating that all was well and life was right.

In Judges 5:10, for instance, Deborah sang about nobility who rode on white donkeys while sitting on saddle blankets in a new era of peace. In 1 Kings 1:33, the dying King David instructs that his son Solomon be appointed king. Solomon, he declares, is to ride on a mule to the eastern side of Jerusalem and be anointed by the prophet Nathan before a mass of people.

Jesus chooses to do the same thing as Solomon through the same area—a deliberately visible and powerful self-proclamation of his reign. Jesus alone is the one who has all authority; He is the conquering king, and yet He is also the one who chooses to lay aside his glory so that He can be with the very people he came to save.

As Jesus entered the city, the crowds shouted “Hosanna!” because they saw Him as their Messiah, their Savior. Hosanna is a word that means “Save me!” or “Help, I pray!” It was originally a call for salvation and deliverance that came to be used as a phrase of joy, anticipating God’s deliverance. So, they shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna in the highest heaves! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

In a celebratory response, people began to take off their outer cloaks and spread them on the road. They’d rather a donkey trample on their clothing than for their king to be muddied on the path.

The people were beginning to understand that Jesus was the one who came from God, the one to whom they could recite Psalm 121: “I lift my eyes up to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and the earth!”

The real triumph: His journey to the cross

But the key to embracing the real triumph of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem that day is not just to praise His arrival, but also to recognize His journey to the cross.

Unfortunately, people too often are enticed by the avenues of pomp and circumstance over the path of humility. Sadly, as stirred and passionate as the whole city had become, the crowds were tempted by the allure of power and grandeur.

So, by the end of the week, they say about Jesus, “Crucify him!” and they would proclaim, “We have no king but Caesar!” (John 19:15).

This Palm Sunday, we have the opportunity to have a triumphal entry-level understanding of who He is. And when we begin to be confronted by the identity of who Jesus actually is, we will have to decide whether we will acknowledge Him for who He is.

Jesus comes to us humbly because He invites us to know Him.

Will you accept His invitation and join Him on this journey of salvation?