Palm Sunday — The Triumphal Entry

The morning began in Bethany, the village where Jesus had been staying with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus — the man He had raised from the dead weeks earlier (see Pre-Holy Week for the full account). Word of that miracle had drawn crowds to Bethany.

Jesus sent two disciples ahead to the nearby village of Bethphage with remarkably specific instructions: “Go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her: loose them, and bring them unto me. And if any man say ought unto you, ye shall say, The Lord hath need of them.”

Everything happened exactly as Jesus said. The colt had never been ridden. In Jewish practice, animals used for sacred purposes had to be unblemished and unused (Numbers 19:2; Deuteronomy 21:3). This was a mount fit for a king on a sacred mission.

Jesus was deliberately orchestrating the fulfillment of Zechariah’s ancient prophecy: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass” (Zechariah 9:9).

Why a donkey? In the ancient Near East, kings rode horses into battle and donkeys in peace. Solomon had been placed on David’s mule to signal his coronation as the peaceful successor (1 Kings 1:33). By choosing a donkey rather than a war horse, Jesus declared Himself King — but a King of Peace, not the military conqueror the crowds expected.

As Jesus descended the Mount of Olives, the crowd swelled dramatically. Pilgrims arriving for Passover joined those who had witnessed Lazarus raised from the dead. John records that these witnesses “bare record” — testifying to others what they had seen (John 12:17).

The people spread their garments on the road before Him — a gesture reserved for royalty. When Jehu was proclaimed king of Israel, his supporters “took every man his garment, and put it under him” (2 Kings 9:13). The crowds knew exactly what they were doing: they were treating Jesus as King.

They cut branches from trees — John specifically mentions palm branches — and waved them while shouting words from Psalm 118:25–26, part of the Hallel psalms sung at Passover: “Hosanna! Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord! Blessed be the kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!”

The palm branches carried explosive political symbolism. A century and a half earlier, the Maccabees had waved palms when they liberated the Temple from the pagan Greeks and rededicated it (1 Maccabees 13:51). Palm branches appeared on Jewish coins minted during periods of independence. They were a symbol of Jewish nationalism and divine deliverance.

By waving palms and shouting Hosanna (“Save now!”), the crowds were declaring Jesus the long-awaited liberator — the Messiah who would overthrow Rome as the Maccabees had overthrown the Greeks.

The irony was profound: Jesus was the Messiah, and He was about to liberate His people — but not in the way anyone expected. He came to save them not from Roman occupation, but from sin and death.

The Pharisees understood perfectly what was happening. They urged Jesus: “Master, rebuke thy disciples!” They knew the Romans were watching. This looked like the beginning of a revolt. Calling someone the “Son of David” and shouting “Hosanna” was openly proclaiming Him as the Messianic King — a direct challenge to Roman authority.

Jesus refused to silence them: “I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.”

This was not hyperbole. Creation itself recognized its Creator. The very rocks of Jerusalem would cry out in witness if human voices fell silent. The moment was too significant to be suppressed.

As the procession crested the Mount of Olives, Jerusalem came into full view — the golden Temple gleaming in the sunlight, the massive walls, the crowded streets filled with Passover pilgrims.

The crowds were celebrating. Jesus was weeping.

“If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes.”

Then He spoke words that must have stunned His disciples: “For the days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.”

Jesus saw what no one else could: the coming destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. The Roman general Titus would surround the city, starve its inhabitants, breach its walls, and destroy the Temple so completely that not one stone would remain upon another. Over a million Jews would die.

“Thou knewest not the time of thy visitation” — the Greek word for “visitation” (episkopē) refers to a divine inspection or examination. God was visiting His people, and they did not recognize Him.

Jesus entered Jerusalem and went directly to the Temple — the heart of Jewish worship, the place where heaven and earth met. Mark records that He “looked round about upon all things” (Mark 11:11).

What did He see? The Court of the Gentiles filled with merchants and moneychangers. The bleating of sheep and cattle. The clink of coins being exchanged at exorbitant rates. The smell of commerce where there should have been the scent of prayer.

But it was already late in the day. Jesus took no immediate action. He returned to Bethany for the night.

The confrontation would come tomorrow.

John records a remarkable event that occurred during this day. Some Greeks — Gentiles who had come to worship at the feast (probably “God-fearers” who worshipped Israel’s God but had not fully converted to Judaism) — approached Philip with a simple request: “Sir, we would see Jesus.”

Philip told Andrew; together they told Jesus.

The timing is significant. At the very moment of His triumphal entry into the Jewish capital — when all eyes were on Jesus as the King of Israel — Gentiles sought Him out. Jesus’ response revealed what this moment meant: “The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified.”

“The hour” — throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus had said “Mine hour is not yet come” (John 2:4; 7:30). Now, with Gentiles seeking Him, the hour had finally arrived.

Jesus spoke of His death: “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”

A single grain of wheat, planted and buried, dies to itself — but from that death springs a harvest of many grains. Jesus was the seed. His death would bring forth fruit among all nations — Jews and Gentiles alike. The Greeks’ request signaled that the harvest was ready. But first, the seed must fall into the ground and die.

Then a voice came from heaven: “I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again.” Some said it thundered. Others said an angel spoke. Jesus explained: “This voice came not because of me, but for your sakes.”

The King had come — not just for Israel, but for all nations. And the path to that universal kingdom led through the cross.