On Christ's Triumphal Procession

[Sermon delivered at St. Mary's Episcopal Church, Phoenix, Arizona, Palm Sunday (Dominica in Palmis), March 29, 2026]

✠ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, the Trinity, one in Essence and Undivided. Amen.

Today is a weird day, liturgically speaking. It appears like two rites are stitched together, each with its own Gospel reading.[1] We first have an upbeat, even jubilant service, where we have a blessing of sacramentals,[2] a festive procession, and a reading from the Gospel account of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Were we Orthodox, that would be the final Gospel of the day, the Divine Liturgy proceeding as normal to the consecration of bread and wine into the Body and Blood of the Lord and our partaking thereof. In the West, I guess that seemed too happy for the last penitential Sunday of the season, so in its liturgical wisdom the Latin West decided to immediately follow the endorphin rush with one of the profoundest downers they could muster, the account of the Passion and Death of Our Lord. It is as if the worship committee at Rome that year said among themselves, “Never mind that we shall repeat the story on Friday, we shall recount it now so we do not let our jubilation get ahead of us.”

Still, there is something profound in this juxtaposition of these two very different Gospel accounts within the same Liturgy, and likely quite deliberate, blending them into a cohesive whole that emphasizes a particular truth or even perspective outside of a merely linear view of time. In this complex rite we see a full-scale procession from start to finish. We see the humble rabbi on a humble donkey riding into town in escalating praises exalting Him, beseeching Him with one word, Hosanna, both to save and be the salvation of those who seek His favour. We see Him ascend the steps of the Temple of the LORD God of the Universe to restore its purpose for the Glory of God and the edification of God’s people. We see this procession wend its way through the Upper Room, through the Garden, to the court of the High Priest, then to the Sanhedrin, and finally to the local Imperial Court. The procession changes tone at each station again and again, moving from the mounting exaltation of the triumphal entry, to the ever-deepening degradation of each act of the Passion, and finally to the dismal execution of Him on a cross, gibbeted between two criminals, dying bereft of His followers.

In Ancient Rome, this pattern would have elicited an uneasy recognition. In their State Religion, they had a ritual called a Triumph, in which the chief honoree, the vir triumphalis, was rewarded for achieving a great victory, saving Rome from her (many) enemies. The procession, could take several days as it included prisoners of war, captives, and other enemies of the Republic with the victorious general preceded by  his troops up to the chief temple of the city, where the celebration was capped off with sacrifices to Rome’s chief god, securing the approval of the gods and their continued favour upon the Senate and People of Rome. What would have unsettled the Pagan Romans was how in this case the triumphant general upon reaching the Temple in Jerusalem did not make sacrifices but instead Himself became both Prisoner and Sacrifice, turning the entire rite upon its ear.

“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He Who comes in the Name of the Lord! Hosanna in the Highest!”[3]

 This is what the onlookers cried when they saw Jesus ride into the Holy City. “Save us,” was the shout, “Our Salvation,” was the cry, “Our Saviour,” was the proclamation. The Roman garrison perched above the Old City would have become quite nervous at that shout. The Sanhedrin, already wary, would have been alarmed. Both heard the words “Son of David” amidst the cries for salvation and the acknowledgement of a saviour. Both would have immediately thought that perhaps after more than six centuries of dormancy the  House of David would again assert rule over Israel and start yet another struggle for dominance in Judaea. They would have smelled a regime change, and they would have been partially right.

This was not, however, an assertion of the rights of the House of David over the House of Herod or the Imperial Family of Rome to rule the patch of land between Egypt and Syria. This was the final end game of a struggle that erupted in the Garden of Eden aeons ago, when God’s beloved Creation suffered corruption and Death claimed it for its own. From time immemorial, the created order irrevocably spiraled in long arcs toward disintegration and chaos. Living systems declined, died, and decayed. Mighty creatures flourished only to become decrepit and to expire, or to be killed and consumed. Kingdoms founded on hope and aspirations foundered, fell prey to tyrants or the incompetent or both, and died either from within or from without. Humans, created in God’s own image, bestowed with reason and skill, were due to the Ancestral Sin born already separated from communion with God and they too withered and died, passing into the Shadows. Over all this ruled Sin, Death, and the Devil, perpetuators of enmity with God in a nihilistic dance of destruction and unbeing. No, instead of a struggle of human kingdoms and principalities, Jesus’ triumphal procession heralded a regime change where the Kingdom of Heaven and the Kingdom of Hell would meet to decide the fate of Creation.

Herein lies the key difference between the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of This World. The premise of the latter is consumption. Predators consume prey. The mighty prey on the weak. Disorder preys upon Order. The process consumes all. Dust and ashes, entropy and the eventual Death of the Universe. The premise of the former is giving. Parents feed their young. The mighty provide for the weak. Order is spun out of chaos. The process self-empties to build up everything around it. Birth and life, creation and dwelling within the presence of the Living God. The differences are clear: Cold and the Darkness versus Warmth and the Uncreated Light; sterile hatred versus life-giving love.

“None of the rulers of this age understood this; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.”[4]

In the true spirit of His Father’s Kingdom, Our Lord entered Jerusalem in a peculiar Triumph, clothed modestly, riding a modest mount, acclaimed by humble people, his troops uneducated people from the disadvantaged side of society, ill-suited to combat and violence. Instead of self-promoting like the vir triumphalis, Our Lord instead spent the week proclaiming the glory of His Father, re-emphasizing the core values of the Kingdom of God, calling people away from their own selfish pursuits to seeking the Kingdom of God and its righteousness, and then when the time came for the sacrifice at the end of the triumph…

He sacrificed Himself.

The Kingdom of This World during this week was frantic. God was among them as an incarnate being. This Jesus was preaching love for God and for neighbour, reconciliation between God and human, where everyone looked out for each other and God would provide in His wisdom for everyone. The Principalities and Powers of Darkness could see their hold slipping. Their chief failed miserably earlier in trying to derail Jesus from His mission, in trying to drive a wedge between the very persons of the One, Holy, and Undivided Trinity. Up until now, every roadblock they threw in His path was a dud. In fear, they incited their human instruments to perform a very human and still very hellish last-ditch effort to thwart God’s gambit.

They crucified the King of glory.

This was no ordinary murder. This was no knife in the kidney in a back alley to quietly dispatch a rival with minimal fuss and visibility. The powers of Hell wanted to send a message that their mastery of Creation was unassailable, that even God coming into the midst of creation as one of those creatures could not shake their hold nor dislodge their most powerful weapon, Death.

They sprung the trap.

“At that moment the curtain of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.”[5]

When the torture reached its end and the body of Our Lord succumbed to its injuries and the living organic system that housed the Creator Incarnate failed, the Curse reached out to take the other part of the Human and stuff it in the shadows as it had done countless times before. At the very moment the Powers of Hell thought they had neutralized their enemy and captured Him in the very web they had woven in His despite, they immediately realized their error.

The mortal Human was perfectly united with Immortal God, without confusion or nullification, and when Hell crucified Him a paradox resulted. Death, the ultimate separation from the source of Life, was infused with the Life that is God Himself, and by definition ceased. Nothing containing Something is no longer Nothing. Death containing Life is no longer Death. The Dead infused with the Life Eternal is no longer Dead. This is not undead, which is itself a tautology; un means not and dead means the Ultimate Not. It is not a mathematical equation where two negatives make a positive. This is alive, which means that Death reached out and lost its grip, its universal claim to Humanity was voided. The Temple curtain which symbolized the separation of mortal from immortal, human from God, Creation from the Boundless Heavens, which symbolized Death itself, at that moment suffered symbolically what happened to its analogue. As Death was rent from stem to stern the Curtain shredded down the middle, exposing Humanity and the rest of Creation to its Creator, and likewise showing the Creator to the Created Order. The barrier was breached. The chasm was bridged. To their horror, Satan and his demons realized that their ultimate act of defiance was their undoing, that in killing the Lord of glory they undid their heretofore crowning achievement, the murder of humanity.

Hosanna. Save Us. Not from Rome. Not from Babylon then or now. Save us from Sin, Death, and the Devil. Whether it is told in one service in one Sunday Liturgy or spread across the Liturgies of the whole week, Jesus’ journey from the Mount of Olives to the Cross on Golgotha was not a Triumph to celebrate a past victory but a Triumph to enact that ultimate victory where the true enemy would meet defeat as the Kingdom of Hell and the Void tried to swallow the Uncontainable and was itself destroyed.

✠ Through the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary, the power of the Most Holy and Life-Giving Cross, Holy Dominic, and all the saints, Saviour save us. Amen.

[1] Liturgy of the Palms: Mt. 21.1-11; Liturgy of the Word: Mt. 26.14-27.66

[2] The palms and branches blessed this day are considered sacramentals, blessed aids in worship.

[3] Mt. 21.9

[4] 1 Cor. 2.8

[5] Mt. 27.51