The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
Sunday, April 13, 2025
The Rev. David Wilcox
St. Mary Magdalene, Belton
“Sometimes they strew his way, and his sweet praises sing,
Resounding all the day Hosannas to their King.
Then ‘Crucify!’ is all their breath, and for his death they thirst and cry.”
— My Song is Love Unknown
Today’s liturgy paints a vivid picture—one powerfully captured by these words from 17th-century priest and hymn writer Samuel Crossman. His hymn mirrors the dramatic contrasts we see in the life of Jesus and in the events of this Holy Week. Palm Sunday is a day full of tension: celebration and heartbreak, honor and humiliation.
Jesus isn’t just welcomed into Jerusalem as a King and Savior—he is also betrayed, rejected, and condemned. In the span of a single liturgy, we move from joyful shouts of “Hosanna!” to the somber cry, “Crucify him!” The emotional shift is startling, and it stirs something deep within us.
But maybe it shouldn’t surprise us. The highs and lows of today’s Gospel reflect the rhythm of our own lives.
Think about it: joy and sorrow, hope and despair, conviction and confusion. One moment we’re riding high—everything’s falling into place, and we’re quick to thank God. The next, we’re in the depths—disappointed, hurting, lost—and we cry out with Jesus, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Today’s readings speak to the core of the human experience. Like the crowd in Jerusalem, we are fickle. We praise and reject God, often in the same breath.
And yet—here is the heart of the Gospel—Jesus doesn’t float above it all. He enters into the full mess of human life. As St. Paul says, “He was obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” He didn’t fast-forward through the pain and suffering because he was divine. He endured it, fully and completely.
And he did it for us.
Not because we earned it. Not because we always get it right. But out of sheer love.
Year after year, this liturgy holds a mirror to our condition: we’re imperfect, prone to wander, and unable to return God’s love perfectly. And yet, it’s also a yearly reminder of just how far God is willing to go for us. Jesus—the second person of the Trinity, eternal and divine—emptied himself and took on the form of a servant. He knows what it is to be human, and he stays with us—even at our worst.
Because of his obedience, we are offered something we don’t deserve: the chance to repent, return, and be reconciled.
So as we begin this Holy Week—as we once again enter into the greatest story ever told—remember this:
God loves you.
Not just “humanity” in some abstract sense, but you. Personally.
He became human for you. He suffered, died, and rose again for you. He sanctified every part of the human experience—including grief, pain, and death—so that nothing in your life is beyond his reach.
This week, we have the opportunity to walk with him again—to experience the depth of his love and to remember that our Savior and King is also our Friend, and our Redeemer.
So I invite you—come to as many of the services this week as you can. Enter into the mystery. Receive his love. And sing the praises of the One who lived, suffered, died, and rose again for you.
