Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday. We listen to the Passion narrative and a selection that tells of people waving palm branches as they joyously celebrate Jesus arriving in Jerusalem on a colt. The week is itself a symbol of each life here—Palm Sunday seeing us celebrate (as when your parents and grandparents celebrated your arrival in the world). Joyous feelings come to mind as we think of small and great moments of happiness we’ve had throughout life.
As we wend our way through life, we have pleasant memories of being at table on feast days, birthdays, weddings, candlelight dinners, and other special or ordinary occasions. And these events are distilled in the Holy Thursday “dinner” or supper that Jesus gave as a special reminder of his presence to us down through the centuries. But Palm Sunday’s salute to joyous occasions and Holy Thursday’s symbolizing togetherness at a dining table—give way to the tears of Good Friday. This day represents the many moments we experience throughout life that send us into sadness or hurt of some kind.
Holy Saturday sees us thinking about the world’s creation, the mistakes and victories of our ancestors-in-the-faith, and finally, the coming of Jesus. This day sees us in darkness and pierces our dark spirit with a candle that lights our minds. And so, we are led into Easter Sunday—where the graves that make life bleak are gone, and hope is born in our hearts. In short, each day of this week broadcasts what we all experience.
Ritually, we imagine our life and try to realize that the path we’ve walked CAN lead to a new life for our spirit. Holy Week also makes us look at ourselves as the fair weather friend of Palm Sunday, the table companion of others on Thursday, absent when the going gets tough on Friday, and looking for hope on Saturday. As with all of Scripture, but especially the Passion reading brings to life the many characters that played a role in the final days of Jesus. Each one of these people is YOU at different times in your life.
Do yourself a favor and spend time reflecting on the men and women who were part of the original Passion story. If one or another character stays in your mind more than others, that person’s role MIGHT be a grace you’re receiving at this time of year. Maybe there’s something in that character’s experience that you need to reconsider. Maybe there’s a wake-up call on something in your life. Maybe there’s an inspiration you need take to heart. Maybe there’s a behavior you need to abandon or adopt. Let the story’s different characters speak to your spirit.
I’ll seed your thought by calling to mind some of the people who lived the events of that first Holy Week.
Judas: Do you have a price and betray values you won’t uphold if challenged? You remain silent when you should speak up?
Chief priests: Do you criticize more than upbuild others?
Peter: Can you play a leadership role but decline? You have legs of straw?
Jesus afraid in Gethsemane: You have legitimate fears—that’s okay to have them.
Pontius Pilate: Do you wash your hands of involvement?
Barabbas: Do you benefit at other people’s expense (sweatshops)?
Simon of Cyrene: Do you help others carry their cross?
Soldiers whip Jesus: Are you racist? Are you cruel to people/animals?
Mary Magdalene & women at the cross: You’re presence to others in need?
Dismas the good thief: Do you admit you made a mistake and ask for forgiveness?
In each of the persons above, we see the Jesus-story play itself out today, e.g., how he is still being crucified, how we are washing our hands of involvement, how we are denying it’s our problem, and how we confront our fear of crosses. This is a week in which we are confronted with our need for resurrection or new life somewhere in our daily behaviors. We’re being called from ruts to renewal.
Important to keep in mind, as I regularly call to your attention, is this. Namely, the Bible is filled with stories about people who are, in some way, you and I. The theme that unites so many of these people in Scripture is that we see that “God calls ordinary people to accomplish extraordinary things.” That’s YOU who God is calling.
Another Way To Look At Palm Sunday
Palm Sunday celebrations often miss an uncomfortable truth about what actually took place this day in the life of Jesus. At the time, it was a deliberate act of theological and political confrontation. It wasn’t just pageantry; it was protest. On that first Palm Sunday, there was another procession entering Jerusalem. From the west came Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, riding a warhorse and flanked by armed soldiers bedecked in the full pageantry of an oppressive empire. Every year during Passover, a Jewish festival celebrating liberation from Egyptian oppression and slavery, Pilate entered Jerusalem to suppress any unrest set off by that memory.
His arrival wasn’t ceremonial; it was tactical — a calculated show of force, what the Pentagon might now call “shock and awe.” It displayed not only Rome’s power but also Rome’s theology. Caesar was not just the emperor; he was deified and called “Son of a God” on coins and inscriptions. His rule was absolute, and the peace it promised came through coercion, domination and the threat of violence. Ironically, the current Administration has lost one court decision after another as it seeks dictatorial power and retribution against its perceived enemies. The parallel between our era and the first century is an unfolding nightmare from a Gospel perspective.
The Saducees we read about in Scripture allied themselves with the Roman authorities and could be associated with today’s billionaires who oversee an economy that benefits the wealthy (e.g., your 401K takes a hit this week as the wealthy buy up stocks now being sold at lower prices than that of a month ago). Meanwhile, the emperor could care less that the price of eggs is higher than when he promised to bring their cost down. Return now to Jesus that first Palm Sunday.
He entered the city not on a warhorse but on a colt, not with battalions but with beggars. His followers were peasants, fishermen, women, and children — people without standing or status. They waved palm branches — symbols of Jewish resistance to occupation — and cried out “Hosanna!” which means “Save us.” Save us from a system that passes itself off as wise stewardship (slashing medical research, education, poverty programs, and all outreaches to those in need). Save us from those who deceptively endorse greed with pious language and prayer vigils that have Congressmen chastising a chaplain who encourages the president to be a merciful leader—as Jesus was. Palm Sunday’s Jesus should be seen as a parody of imperial power: a deliberate mockery of Roman spectacle and a prophetic enactment of a kingdom built on justice.
The next day, Jesus walked into the Temple, the heart of Jerusalem’s religious and economic life, and flipped the tables in the marketplace, which he described as “a den of robbers.” The Temple wasn’t just a house of prayer. It was a financial engine, operated by complicit leaders under the constraints and demands of the occupying empire. Jesus shuts it down. This is what gets him killed—the Wall Street of his time in concert with banksters and government.
Jesus wasn’t killed for preaching love, or healing the sick, or discussing theology routinely debated in the Temple’s courtyards, or blasphemy (the punishment for which was stoning). Rome didn’t crucify philosophers or miracle workers. Rome crucified people like Jesus who spoke truth to power. The sign nailed above his head — “King of the Jews” — was a political indictment and public warning. Like with the killing of the prophets before him, the message sent with Jesus’s death was that those who demand justice will inevitably find themselves crushed. Sound familiar?
We, too, live in the shadow of empire. Ours doesn’t speak Latin or wear togas, but its logic is familiar. Our economy prioritizes the 1 percent and puts corporate profits over worker dignity. Our laws enforce inequality in the criminal justice system, education and health care. Our military-industrial complex would be the envy of Rome. Note that budget-cutting never negatively affects military spending.