I don’t know if you realize it or not—I think probably you do—but the cross that we use as the symbol of our Christian faith, it is an ironic symbol, one that is used almost satirically, or mockingly. Because the cross, of course, was a symbol of defeat. It was a symbol of oppression and intimidation. It was a symbol of death.
Simply put, crosses were used to kill people, to execute people.
Jesus knew well what the cross meant. When he was a very young child, there was a violent uprising in Sepphoris, a city next door to Nazareth. Rome crushed that rebellion—brutally crushed it—and as a warning to others, Rome crucified 2,000 of the rebels. They took them down to Jerusalem, hung them all on crosses… and the roads leading to Jerusalem were lined with crosses, with bodies hanging on them.
The message was clear: don’t challenge Rome, or this will be your fate.
Jesus challenged Rome. He didn’t challenge Rome with military might, which is probably why he was able to get away with it for as long as he did; Instead, Jesus challenged Rome by offering people an alternative way of living, a way that went against Roman ideals and mores.
But Rome could only put up with that for so long. Eventually, Jesus himself was crucified by Rome; and just like the crucifixions after the Sepphoris uprising, Jesus’ crucifixion was Rome’s way of saying, “Look: this movement that he started? It’s over. Go back to your lives.”
So the cross was a symbol—a powerful symbol—of defeat.
But, because of the resurrection, Christianity took that symbol of defeat, and turned it into a symbol of victory. Christianity took that symbol of death, and turned it into a symbol of new life. What was once a symbol of evil, became a symbol of good.
I mention this, because the palms that we wave on Palm Sunday work in a similar way.
Let me explain.
The great leaders of Jesus’ time, like Herod, and Caesar… when they had a procession, it was a daunting display of military power and might. Soldiers lined the roads; they wore their finest armor, decorated with Roman insignia; and they raised into the air spears and swords—symbols of Rome’s power and might.
The weapons, raised in the air, were a warning to the people: obey Herod. Obey Caesar. Rome is unassailable, and you cannot possibly challenge the mighty power of the Roman Empire. If you do, you will find yourself at the wrong end of one of these swords, one of these spears, one of these weapons of death.
Well, Jesus’ followers didn’t have very many swords or spears or other weapons. On one occasion, when one of his followers did produce a sword, Jesus rebuked him, and told him to put away his sword, because that was not his way.
So, since they didn’t have swords or spears, Jesus’ followers didn’t have anything to raise in the air as he made his way into Jerusalem—except for palm branches.
Beautiful palm trees grow in many areas around Jerusalem; all the people had to do was climb up and cut the branches off the trees.
And, palm branches were a symbol that had once been placed on Jewish coins when the Jewish nation was free. Palm branches were a symbol of Jewish nationalism, an expression of the people’s desire for political freedom.
That did make the palm branches a powerful, and potentially dangerous, symbol.
On the other hand, they were just palm branches. How could a palm branch possibly compare to a sword or a spear? Who would take a soldier seriously, who rides into battle with a palm branch, a leafy stick, as a weapon?
And those who waved the palm branches… they weren’t soldiers wearing armor. Few of Jesus’ followers could afford armor. Instead, those who lined the roads at his procession were clad in rags and other raiment of the poor.
Then there is the donkey; or, the “donkey’s colt,” as it says in John’s gospel. A humble animal. A funny-looking animal, not as big as a horse, with a short, scrappy tail, ears that are slightly too large for its head, and which makes a funny sound: hee-haw, hee-haw.
Now, if Herod were making his way into Jerusalem, he’d be on a mighty warhorse, or in a chariot pulled by a mighty warhorse: a majestic animal, strong, with a beautiful mane and tail.
It kind of makes me think of Donkey in the movie Shrek, and how excited Donkey gets when Fiona calls him a “noble steed.” It’s funny, because Donkey is definitely not a noble steed.
Well, Herod gets the noble steed; Jesus gets the donkey.
So, you see the contrast between the two. Mighty Herod, gleaming armor, ornately decorated chariot, pulled by a mighty warhorse, processing into Jerusalem, with legions of soldiers lining the roads, raising their weapons of steel into the air as the procession passed by.
And Jesus: humble; on a donkey; without armor; without any weapons. Just a ragtag group of peasants and other poor folk, raising their palm branches.
And maybe this has you feeling sorry for Jesus. Certainly some of those who saw his procession felt sorry for him. They expected a king like King David, one who would rule in power, in place of Herod, or even in place of Caesar; one who would restore the nation of Israel and free them from Roman oppression.
In other words, they expected Jesus, on a warhorse, surrounded by a well-dressed army with enough swords and spears to drive Rome out of their land.
Those who had such expectations were, without question, disappointed.
Others, however, knew that Jesus would not ride a horse. After all, Psalm 20 says: “Some take pride in chariots and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the Lord our God” . And Psalm 33:17: “The war horse is a vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save.”
Nevertheless, there are a lot of people today who are still disappointed that Jesus arrives on a humble donkey, with no army, and no weapons. It is a hard thing to swallow.
Have you ever seen a Christian school choose a donkey as its mascot? Every Christian school I’m familiar with,.. They’re the Warriors, or the Crusaders; and often, their mascot includes the warrior or crusader sitting on a horse.
Even the writer of Revelation had a hard time with this. A humble Jesus on a donkey just would not do for him; so the writer of Revelation re-imagined Jesus as a mighty warrior on a mighty warhorse, carrying a mighty sword.
Jesus himself was tempted by this vision...
You may remember that, at the beginning of his ministry, when Jesus was in the wilderness, he was tempted with authority over all the kingdoms of the world; all the power and might of Rome and every other nation would be his, and he would have total control, and unlimited power.
Jesus could have had the warhorse; Jesus could have had the armies, all of them, under his command; Jesus could have had all the weapons on earth, to rid the world of injustice and oppression, and establish the kingdom of God by force.
But Jesus resisted this temptation. Jesus knew that this was not his calling. It was not the way. God’s kingdom would not be established through power or force.
Only love would build the kingdom of God.
So the palm branches and the donkey were chosen deliberately, not just because they were “all he could get.” Jesus rode a donkey and the crowd waved palm branches, to show, in dramatic fashion, that the kingdom of God was not at all like the kingdom of Herod; that it was, in fact, something completely different; a radical alternative.
The palm branches and the donkey not only became a way of demonstrating that difference; but they also mocked Herod’s kingdom and the Roman Empire. And Jesus’ procession, his triumphant entry, mocked the processions of Herod and Caesar.
In fact, because of the Passover festival, it is quite possible—quite likely, even—that Herod was arriving in Jerusalem on the same day as Jesus; that there were, in fact, two royal processions into Jerusalem that day!
One, with Herod riding a warhorse, and his armies, and their weapons of steel;
…And the other, with Jesus, riding a donkey, with his “army” of people, waving their palm branches.
And all the people of Jerusalem, and all the pilgrims who had come to Jerusalem for the festival, had to choose—they had to choose—which procession they wanted to see.
Because Herod was probably coming in by one road, and Jesus by another. So the people had to choose: Herod, or Jesus? The kingdom of Rome, or the kingdom of God? The kingdom of intimidation and coercion, or the kingdom of compassion and love?
The people had to choose between everything Rome symbolized, and everything God’s kingdom symbolized. They had to choose between death and life, between injustice and justice, between oppression and liberation, between power by force and the power of love.
And this is the choice we have to make every day.
After Herod’s procession, once he had arrived and had settled in, Herod probably hosted a great formal banquet, as was customary. Invitations with the royal seal were sent out, and at the appointed time, the invited guests arrived and were seated according to importance. Those without invitations were barred from entering by armed guards.
And at the meal, bread was broken, a sign of fellowship. This sign of fellowship was significant; to break bread with someone unworthy of your company, it would affect your own standing. So only those with a certain level of importance were on the guest list.
At these banquets, everyone tried to impress upon their host and upon the other guests how important they were. The banquet was an opportunity to prove one’s worthiness, and possibly even rise up in status.
And after bread was broken, a cup was lifted, in honor of Caesar. Whenever Romans gathered to eat and drink, they remembered Caesar.
Well, we know that Jesus would also soon have his own banquet with his disciples—his last supper with them.
Those on Jesus’ guest list—the disciples—included fishermen, tax collectors, and other types of people who would not normally be invited to a formal banquet, because they were looked down upon. They weren’t the type of people with whom one would choose to break bread.
But Jesus did. And not only that; immediately after the meal, Jesus further humbled himself by taking up the towel of a servant, the towel of a slave, and washing his disciples feet, doing a lowly task that no respectable Roman would do.
And when Jesus took the cup, and lifted it, he didn’t invoke the name of Caesar, as was expected; instead, Jesus said that, from now on, when you drink from this cup, you are to remember me; invoke my name when you eat and drink together…
And finally, in the context of that Last Supper, he commanded his disciples to love. Because God’s kingdom is not about status; it’s not about power; it’s not about might…
God’s kingdom is about love.
So: now we have the donkey, and the palm branches, and the weaponless army; and we have the servant’s towel, and the command to love, and the invocation of Jesus’ name when raising the cup, instead of Caesar’s name.
These things are all connected. They are all symbols of humility, symbols of a generous, sacrificial love, and symbols of a kingdom, a way of living, that is very different from that of the Roman Empire.
But there is one more symbol yet to come, the one I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon.
The cross.
The ultimate sign of weakness and defeat.
But, out of love, Jesus willingly took on this symbol, just as he willingly took on: the palm branches, the donkey, the servant’s towel, and all the others.
And like all these other symbols, it, too, is transformed by the power of God’s love into a symbol of hope, a symbol of joy, a symbol of victory.
2,000 years later, we are still faced with a choice: do we choose the symbols of modern society: wealth, power, influence, intimidation?
Or do we choose the humble, loving, merciful qualities of the one who, instead—as a sign of his love for all the world—rode a donkey, and donned a servant's towel, and accepted death on a cross?
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