Today marks the beginning of Holy Week, the final stretch of Lent. We’ve been preparing for this for weeks, waiting, reflecting, drawing nearer to God.
Palm Sunday always feels a little odd to me. It’s a day of triumph, of Hosannas and palm branches waved in the air. Jesus enters Jerusalem to the cheers of the crowd, riding on a donkey as prophecy foretold. It’s joyful, symbolic, powerful.
And yet, we know what’s coming.
We know that in just a few days, the cheers will turn to jeers. The palm branches will be trampled underfoot. The crowd will cry “Crucify.” There will be betrayal, suffering, and a death that shakes the earth. And then, there will be an empty tomb, confusion and, eventually, celebration.
So it’s hard to stay in this moment. Hard to hold Palm Sunday in its own right without skipping ahead to what’s next.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Palm Sunday invites us into the tension, into a moment of praise that lives alongside foreboding. Into joy that isn’t naïve, but brave.
Because Jesus knows what’s ahead. He knows the path leads to betrayal, pain, and death. And still, he rides into the city. Still, he accepts the praise, receives the joy, and allows this moment to be what it is: a celebration of the coming Kingdom.
Jesus doesn’t deflect the joy or stop the crowd. When the religious leaders urge him to quiet things down, he says, “If they keep silent, even the rocks will cry out.” It’s as if the joy must be expressed. It matters.
And that, perhaps, is something we can learn from.
Even when there’s something we dread on the horizon, even when the future feels uncertain or heavy, we are still allowed joy. We are allowed to stay in the moment and celebrate what is good and true, even for a little while. Not to deny what’s coming, but to strengthen us for it.
So today, I’m trying to stay with Palm Sunday. To hold the Hosannas in my heart. To celebrate the King who comes in peace, even when I know the path ahead leads to the cross. Because the joy is part of the story too.
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