Rolling Out the Red Carpet: A Reflection for Palm Sunday 2025

Today is Palm Sunday, the day when we transition from Lent into Holy Week. Symbolically speaking, after forty days in the wilderness, we have arrived at Jerusalem and ready ourselves to accompany Jesus on the last days of his earthly life. The day also has apocalyptic signification, since, as we remember Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into into Jerusalem, we also greet him into our lives and hearts through the presence of his Holy Spirit, and, await his return in glory (whatever that may look like, and whenever that might happen). So for today’s post I’d like to think through some the apocalyptic implications for the story, taking those first-century events as a symbol for our own lives and times.

First, let’s remind ourselves of some context for the story. It’s Passover, a time when Jerusalem is filled to the brim with pilgrims from around the Mediterranean world. The Roman authorities are on edge, since Judea is rife with freedom movements and militias, many of which would like nothing more than to use the excitement and chaos of the celebrations to incite a rebellion. The Jewish religious authorities are also on edge for the same reason, not wanting anything to upset the perilous status quo they’ve reached with Rome. So it’s a powder keg of a situation. And then this happens:

As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” (Luke 19.36-40)

Upon reading the passage today, I was truck most by image of people throwing down their cloaks, effectively a first-century version of rolling out the red carpet for him. And I was reminded of Isaiah’s words long associated with John the Baptist: “A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God” (Isaiah 40.3).

Here the rabble of Jerusalem are preparing the way for Jesus, whom they are welcoming as their king. But it’s a situation that no one is happy about. The authorities, religious and imperial like, see crowds greeting a itinerant religious teacher (and known trouble-maker) as a king. And I’m sure Jesus too may have been wincing, knowing that the crowds have completely misunderstood him and his mission, but appreciating the welcome (to say nothing of the irony) nonetheless.

So I have to ask the question to us today: How might we offer a more appropriate welcome for Jesus, both in our hearts and in the world?

Today as much ever, people are prone to misunderstanding Jesus’ mission. Many of us seem to still want him to be that kind of a king, who “lords it over others” instead of being a servant for all, who reaches for and shows off his powerful connections instead of setting aside all privileges to live among and minister to “the least of these.” But Jesus is not that kind of king. His Kingdom is not of this world. So what does a proper welcome look like? How might we “make straight in the desert a highway for our God”?

Internally, we can clear the path for Christ by getting out of his way: through true and honest repentance, through being open to letting him in to transform our hearts so that we may see the world through his loving, gracious, and compassionate eyes.

Externally, in the world at large, the Gospels make our job clear: the red carpet we roll out for Christ is simply to get on with doing his work in the world, to do our bit “to proclaim release to captives” and “give sight to the blind,” to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and support those in prison, and to love our neighbour — whom Jesus defines as the last person we’d expect or want it to be — as our very own self. We are not called to plaster his name and face on everything as if he were a petty dictator obsessed with his own image (I had an ad come across my feed the other day for a “Christian athleisure company,” as though we can rightly honour Jesus with yoga pants…), but to embody him and his ways in the world. And, as we’ve seen over the past few weeks, we have hundreds and thousands of examples of people who have done just that, all in their own unique ways, within the unique circumstances, opportunities, and constraints of their time and place.

All too often Christians seem like a group of kids whose mother has been away for a few days and want to greet her return with a big “Welcome home! We love you, mom!” banner, but also a filthy and messy house. But if that’s disrespectful to our mothers, it’s all the more so to the one we call our Lord and our God. So, let’s get to work. Both in our hearts or in the world, let’s get cleaning ourselves and our surroundings up, so that we might truly and worthily welcome our king.

Amen.