Palm Sunday/ Sunday of the
Passion (A)
March 29, 2026
Text:
John 12:12-19; Matt. 26-27
Christ Jesus is on the move. He is invading enemy territory, reclaiming
what once was His. As rightful King, He
comes into the Holy City.
Or, is it so holy? The Glory of God had departed from the Temple
centuries ago. You can read about it in Ezekiel
10. That Glory (that is God the Son),
veiled in the Glory cloud, mounted His chariot, with its whirling cherubic
wheels, and simply lifted off and out.
Babylon destroyed that Temple.
God let them. In fact, God
sent them for the very purpose.
And though many of the exiles returned and rebuilt, the Glory did not
return. And the sins of the people
continued to sully. And the
righteousness of the Pharisees, and elitism of Sadducees, could not fill the
void. Counterfeit righteousness. Self-righteousness. Human elitism. It is not holy. It is not sufficient.
But now, He comes. The Glory, veiled in human flesh. He is met by waving palms and shouts of
acclamation: “Hosanna!” Save
us, now! (That is what the word
means.) “Blessed
is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel”
(John 12:13; ESV; emphasis added). He
rides in. Like the conquering kings of
old, who paraded with their forces through the streets of a vanquished city.
He comes, though, not on a mighty
steed, surrounded by armored legions.
But humble. Mounted on a donkey,
as Zechariah prophesied: “Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and
having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of
a donkey” (Zech. 9:9). And He is
surrounded by legions of exultant pilgrims and jubilant children, in
fulfillment of the same prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!”
He comes. Knowing, however, that the shouts of
acclamation will turn by the end of the week. The Pharisees are already plotting. And the Chief Priests. And the Council. Soon, Judas.
By Friday, what will the crowds be shouting? “Let him be crucified!” (Matt.
27:22-23). “His blood be on us and on
our children!” (v. 25). When the
Glory of God returns to Jerusalem, what happens? They kill Him. We kill Him. He knows this.
Nevertheless, He comes. To cleanse the Temple He once vacated. To fill it again with Words of Life and
Light, His teaching (He teaches all week long).
To fill the congregation of His hearers, and His disciples with Himself. And then, to fill the Passover bread and wine
with His very body and blood, the body and blood that would given and shed on
the cross for us, for the forgiveness of sins.
He comes. To bring the iniquity of Jew and Gentile... all
of us... to its fulness, with the very murder of God. To load it on His own back, and carry it up
the hill. He comes. To the final showdown between death and Life;
a showdown in which death is, apparently, victorious. And so, to die our death, and fill our
tomb.
But then, the Third Day. Death’s victory becomes death’s defeat. And Life’s defeat, it turns out, becomes His
resurrection victory over death, forever.
And so, this day we gather
with our palm branches and shouts of acclamation: “Hosanna!” Save us, now! “Blessed is he who comes in the name of
the Lord!” We already know how this
ends. Still, we hear it again, and anew. And we walk with Him through all the
suffering and misery and horror and triumph.
This is all for us.
Accomplished long ago, but delivered, here and now, in real time.
Jesus comes. To us, now. Really. In the flesh. Otherwise, why the palms? Why the “Hosannas” and the “Blessed is
He”s? If we’re just pretending, I
have better things to do this week, and so do you. But if we’re not pretending… If this
is real… If Jesus Christ, the King, is here, in the flesh, coming
among us, invading our Church building, and so, everything that is us,
and ours... our vocations, our marriages and families and relationships,
our neighborhood and community, and our very bodies and souls… If that is true... you and I have nothing
better to do, ever.
Do you believe that? There is often a disconnect, isn’t there,
between our deeply held convictions and how we actually behave. Even how our fallen minds think. In any case, Jesus has nothing better to
do this week... or ever... than hand-deliver this blood-bought
new reality to you. In Person. Here, in His Church. With all His life and love. Beloved, He loves you. Not only in words. Not only in warm and fuzzy feelings in His
heart. Jesus loves you concretely. In real space and time. With His bodily presence, with you,
and for you.
That is why He comes. To reclaim what once was His. You.
He created you... with the Father and the Holy Spirit, our
gracious God... He created you.
But you know, our first parents sold us out, and we’ve been selling
ourselves ever since. And so, He redeems
you. He buys you back from your
slavery to sin, death, and Satan. From
the hell your sins deserve. Not with
gold or silver. But with His holy,
precious blood, and His innocent suffering and death. He is the Ransom. He is the Sacrifice of Atonement that
satisfies the Father’s righteous wrath.
He pays the price, to His last ounce of blood. Why?
That you may be His own, and live under Him in His Kingdom, and serve
Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness.
The war is won in cross and empty
tomb. But He delivers that victory now,
here, in this place, and among this people. He invades. He liberates each one of us. He looses our chains, throws open our
dungeons, lightens our darkness, and sets us free.
And look what has happened. His blood makes the city holy once
again (the Glory returns on the cross!).
And whatever the blood touches... holy. This place.
This people... the very people sitting next to you, and all around
you. You. And all that is you and yours. The blood of God’s Lamb, that takes away the
sin of the world. He comes, your
rightful King. To reclaim what is
His. And that means you. He claims you. You belong to Him, once again. And He belongs to you. And He loves you. And He cares for you. And He is with you. To save you now. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X,
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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