Throughout the season of Lent, I’ll be sharing my Sunday messages on this blog. You can view the full service on the First Wayne Street UMC YouTube page.

Palm Sunday is a day of energy and movement. It is a day of crowds and celebration. It is a day when people line the road, wave branches, throw cloaks on the ground, and shout their praise. Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! 

You can almost hear it, can’t you? The noise, the movement, the rhythm of the crowd. People shouting “Hosanna!” Voices overlapping, rising, echoing through the streets.

I sometimes wonder what it would have sounded like if we could translate that moment into something we’d recognize. Maybe not a hymn…maybe something a little more like a chant or a catchy chorus that spreads throughout the crowd. Something like…“Jesus is just alright with me. Jesus is just alright, oh yeah! Jesus is just alright with me. Jesus is just alright.

Now, if we’re being honest, the Doobie Brothers are probably underselling things just a bit. Some of you may find yourself thinking, “The pastor seems to be on a Doobie Brothers kick lately!” Anyway, the people lining the road that day weren’t saying, “Jesus is just alright.”

They were crying out, “Hosanna! Save us!” This wasn’t casual appreciation. This was desperate hope. Jesus represented a hope that their current situation, their oppression, their marginalization, their vulnerability would not be the end of their story! 

Palm Sunday is also a day that asks a question. Not just who Jesus is. But what kind of kingdom is he bringing.

Right near the beginning of the story, there’s a small line that’s easy to miss. When Jesus sends the disciples to get the donkey, he tells them: “If anyone says anything to you, just say this: ‘The Lord needs them.’” (Matthew 21:3) Other translations state, “The Lord needs it.”

It’s such a simple sentence. But it might be one of the most important sentences for our lives of faith. The Lord needs it. 

To understand Palm Sunday, we need to imagine the scene. Jerusalem during Passover was crowded. Historians estimate the population could swell from around 50,000 people to several hundred thousand pilgrims. The city was packed with travelers remembering the story of God delivering Israel from oppression in Egypt.

The Roman authorities were nervous. Passover celebrated freedom. Rome represented the empire, strength demonstrated through power, force and intimidation. During this festival, the Roman governor would often enter Jerusalem with a military procession, a show of force to remind everyone who was in charge.

There would be a parade of Roman soldiers, with armor gleaming. War horses stomping the ground. Banners and weapons held high. It was a parade of power. It was a parade meant to intimidate and remind the people exactly who was in charge. 

But on the same day, or very close to it, another procession approached the city.

Jesus comes from the Mount of Olives. Not on a war horse. Not surrounded by soldiers and weapons. Instead, Jesus rides a donkey. This is not an accident.

Now, if you were paying close attention to the Scripture reading and the beginning of the message, you might notice something a little about Matthew’s story of the triumphal entry…that may be confusing.

It says the disciples brought the donkey and the colt…and that Jesus sat on them. Which has led to some wonderfully creative interpretations over the years.

I’ve seen the pictures: Jesus somehow riding two donkeys at once like a circus act. I’ve even discovered that if you search hard enough, you can find images of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a dinosaur.

About a year ago, I shared this story about Jesus riding a dinosaur during a YMCA board meeting. At the next meeting, several board members were wearing Jesus on a dinosaur t-shirts! I need to be careful with what I share!

Here’s the thing, this is where a little careful reading helps us. Matthew isn’t saying Jesus straddled two animals like some kind of first-century stunt rider. More likely, Matthew, as he often does, is being extra careful to show that Jesus fulfills the prophecy from Zechariah: “your king comes… humble, and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Maybe Jesus sat on one and rested His feet on the other. Who knows? But that’s not the important part of the story. Let’s not get lost in the minor details. Some of you are thinking, “we wouldn’t get lost in the minor details if you didn’t take us there!”

This isn’t about spectacle. It’s about symbolism. Jesus is very intentionally choosing how he enters the city and what kind of king he will be.

In the ancient world, a horse symbolized war and conquest. Kings rode horses into battle. Generals paraded on horses after victories. But a donkey symbolized peace. Again, we remember the prophet Zechariah: “Look, your king is coming to you…humble, and riding on a donkey.”

What we have in this moment is almost like two competing parades. One parade represents empire: power, control, domination, intimidation. The other represents the kingdom of God: humility, mercy, peace.

The people watching have to decide: Which kingdom do we belong to?

If we’re honest, that question isn’t just for first-century Jerusalem…it’s for us. We still see signs of the empire being elevated over the kingdom. This week, we heard those claiming the name of Christ call for overwhelming violence in a military campaign. We see people of faith placing their trust in domination rather than mercy. Too often in our own country, we are tempted to choose the parade of the empire over the way of Jesus, trading the cross-shaped life for the illusion of control and power. We confuse the way of Jesus with the way of power, choosing the parade of empire with its war horse, when Jesus is still riding the donkey of peace. Which kingdom do we belong to?

There’s another detail that matters. Jesus doesn’t even own the donkey he’s riding. He borrows it.

When the disciples are questioned, they say: “The Lord needs it.” And apparently that explanation is enough. Someone releases their animal. Someone offers what they have. That small act becomes part of one of the most important moments in the story of Jesus.

Which reminds us of something powerful: God often builds the kingdom with borrowed things. Borrowed boats. Borrowed loaves and fish. Borrowed rooms for meals. Borrowed tombs for burial. On Palm Sunday, a borrowed donkey carries the Prince of Peace into Jerusalem.

Which raises a question for us. What might the Lord need from us?

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus paints a picture of what the kingdom of God looks like. In Matthew 25, he describes the final judgment, not in terms of beliefs or achievements, but in terms of compassion.

“I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me. I was naked and you gave me clothing. I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.”

And the people ask: “When did we see you?” Jesus answers: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40)

In other words, the kingdom Jesus announces on Palm Sunday is not about domination or power. It is about love in action. Feeding the hungry. Welcoming the stranger. Caring for the sick. Standing with the forgotten. These are not side projects of the church. This is the parade of the kingdom.

When Jesus says, “The Lord needs it,” we might hear those words echoing through our lives.

Maybe the Lord needs our time. To listen to someone who feels invisible. To visit someone who is lonely.

Maybe the Lord needs our resources. To help feed families who are struggling. To support ministries that bring hope.

Maybe the Lord needs our compassion. To welcome someone who feels like an outsider. To treat others with dignity and grace.

Maybe the Lord needs our church. Churches sometimes wonder what their purpose is in a changing world. But Jesus already told us. The church exists to live Matthew 25. To feed. To welcome. To heal. To visit. To love.

Every time we do these things, we become part of the procession of Palm Sunday. We become part of the kingdom parade.

Here’s the surprising thing about Palm Sunday. The crowds shout “Hosanna!” which means “Save us!” But many of them are hoping for the kind of victory Rome understands. A military victory. A political overthrow. A king on a horse. They are hoping for a regime change by any means necessary. 

But Jesus rides a donkey because the victory he brings is different. His victory will come through sacrifice, mercy, and love. The kingdom of God grows not through domination but through compassion. The Kingdom will not come through overwhelming violence, but through overwhelming love, mercy and compnassion. Every act of kindness becomes a sign that this kingdom is already breaking into the world.

So today, as we wave palms and sing “Hosanna,” we are not just remembering something that happened long ago. We are deciding which parade we want to join.

The parade of empire driven by fear and power.

Or the parade of the kingdom shaped by humility and love.

The good news of Palm Sunday is this: You don’t need to be powerful to join Jesus’ parade. You just need to be willing when the moment comes and the voice of Christ says: “The Lord needs it.”

The Lord needs your kindness. The Lord needs your generosity. The Lord needs your courage. The Lord needs your compassion.

When we offer what we have, however small it may seem, God uses it to carry the kingdom forward.

Just like a borrowed donkey once carried the Prince of Peace into Jerusalem.

So today we shout again: Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.

Blessed are those who follow him by feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, caring for the sick, visiting the forgotten because every act of love becomes part of the kingdom parade.

Just for fun, I plugged my Palm Sunday sermon into an AI song generator. Here is what it produced! Click to listen.