Gospel before the procession - Luke 19:28-40
First Reading - Isaiah 50:4-7
Second Reading - Philippians 2:6-11
Gospel - Luke 22:14-23:56
The Gospel before the procession takes us to the outskirts of Jerusalem. Jesus approaches the Holy City not on a mighty horse, but on a colt. He comes not in political power but in humility. He does not raise a sword, but extends an open hand. This is the paradox of our King. He is acclaimed by the crowd, yet knows what awaits Him: rejection, suffering, and death. Still, He enters. He does not flee. He embraces His mission, because love does not turn back.
The first reading from Isaiah presents us with the figure of the Suffering Servant. “The Lord has given me a well-trained tongue,” says the prophet, “that I might know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them.” This servant listens to God’s voice, even in pain. He says, “I gave my back to those who beat me.” Here is someone who meets hatred not with hatred, but with silence and strength. This is Jesus, who willingly submits to the path of suffering, not because He is powerless, but because love is stronger than violence.
The second reading, from the letter to the Philippians, invites us into the very heart of Christ’s mystery. St. Paul writes that although Jesus was “in the form of God,” He “emptied Himself.” He chose to come down to us—not merely to visit, but to become one of us. And not just to live among us, but to die for us. He took on the form of a slave and humbled Himself, “even unto death, death on a cross.” Why? So that we might be lifted up. His descent is our ascent. His humiliation becomes our hope. And because of this, God “highly exalted Him.” The path of descent leads to glory.
Then we hear the Passion narrative from the Gospel of Luke. This is not a tale of random cruelty or misfortune. This is a love story written in blood. At the Last Supper, Jesus gives Himself completely—His body, His blood. In Gethsemane, He prays with anguish, but says, “Not my will, but yours be done.” He is betrayed by a kiss, abandoned by friends, denied by Peter, mocked, scourged, condemned, and crucified. And yet, through it all, He never ceases to love.
Even on the cross, Jesus is not bitter. He is merciful. “Father, forgive them.” He does not curse the criminal beside Him. He promises him paradise. He does not complain of His pain. He entrusts His spirit into the hands of the Father. This is the power of divine love—quiet, enduring, unconquerable.
Dear friends, Palm Sunday confronts us with a question: which crowd are we part of? The one that cries “Hosanna!” when everything is going well? Or the one that fades into silence, or even shouts “Crucify Him,” when the cost of discipleship becomes real? Jesus walks willingly toward the cross—not because He has to, but because He chooses to. For us. For love.
This week, let us not just admire Jesus from a distance. Let us walk with Him. Let us enter Jerusalem, sit with Him at the Last Supper, stay awake with Him in Gethsemane, stand at the foot of His cross. Let us not rush to Easter. Let us stay with the mystery of the Passion. Because it is only through the cross that we come to the resurrection.
Palm Sunday invites us not into a moment, but into a journey—a journey of love, humility, sacrifice, and ultimately, glory. Let us begin it together, with hearts wide open.
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