Matthew 21:1-11; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Seemingly out of nowhere and coming down the middle of the street: a brass band blares and someone twirls a bright colored parasol with the fleur-de-lis. A grand marshal in a snazzy suit and high-top hat leads the way. Out-dancing, out “buck-jumping” everyone else as he waves his feathered fan. Behind him, a ragtag group of revelers wave handkerchiefs and stroll to the beat of a drum. The group following the leader and the brass band, they are the second line. Have you ever been caught up in a “second line” parade? If so, chances are you were in New Orleans where second-lining has been called the quintessential New Orleans art form.[1]
Historically, the African-American community began second lines as neighborhood celebrations. It caught on when local organizations offered social aid to freed slaves, such as loans and insurance, they used the second-lines as a form of advertising. Second lines were also used to honor members of the community when they died. Second-line funeral parades, or jazz funerals, happen year-round. These parades, second lines, were born out of sadness or strife. Out of that communal struggle, came the will to celebrate, to dance, to make music. It’s the way the community responds to collective pain and that kind of soulful, artful response builds resilience.[2]
Today, there are second lines in the Crescent City every week. The joy of one of these second line parades is that anyone can tag on. The more participants in the procession, the better. If you start following along, next thing you know you’ll be twirling an umbrella, or twirling somebody (depends on how many hurricanes you’ve had). Waving your hand or your handkerchief. Have you ever been caught up in a parade?
Palm Sunday is a reprieve from the penitence of the Lenten season. It is also a day that bids us to suspend what we know happens next. The invitation is to let yourself be at the parade – get caught up in the pageantry of Jesus’ triumphal entry. The gospel of Matthew tells the story with a few intriguing details that we don’t find elsewhere. Matthew writes for an audience that needs to be convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, the one foretold in Hebrew scripture. So, Matthew covers all the bases –when he describes Jesus riding into Jerusalem on two animals. Mark and Luke have Jesus coming in on a colt. John refers to one donkey. But in verse 7, Matthew says, “[The disciples] brought the donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them and he sat on them” (21:7). What is Matthew doing – suggesting that Jesus straddled both animals? Perhaps it is a She-Ass with her colt tied at her side. Jesus rides side-saddle with his feet and legs over both(?). Jesus asked for the disciples to bring him both. Matthew makes the case that Jesus fulfills the messianic prophecy spoken in Zechariah 9 where both animals are mentioned.
Look, your king is coming to you,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Not only that, but the shouts of the crowd say, “Save us, Son of David!” Only in Matthew do they hail Jesus as Son of David. They are calling him king—the Davidic king, a king in the line of Judah (see also Matthew 1:2–6). [3] “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” Of all the pilgrims coming for the Passover Festival, Jesus was the only one coming in the name of the Lord. He is the fulfillment of messianic hope, riding in humbly – a gentle King – who will exact God’s reign over all the earth, beginning today in Jerusalem. Whew. That is quite a promise Matthew is making. What he witnessed that day and what he had studied from the prophets come together in his gospel. Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, of that he is certain, but Jesus will not be the kind of King they expected.
Maybe that is why Matthew exclusively adds to the drama of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem by reporting that the whole city is in turmoil. The verb he uses here comes from the word, seismos, metaphorically, he is describing the city experiencing something like an earthquake.[4] Jerusalem, typically “frozen with religious formalism” – buttoned up tight and spiritually reserved, was uncharacteristically stirred up, frenetic with energy.[5] It seems that Matthew means to say “the holy city is shaken to its foundations by the [anticipated] arrival of this one anointed ” to bring new leadership.[6] Jesus is a prince of peace in the reign of God, but his way is disruptive to the status quo. His message is counter cultural, and contrary to the religious establishment. His ministry is more like a ragtag jazz band popping up in the middle of the street.
On the other side of town, another parade is happening. Pontius Pilate, the governor, makes the 60 mile ride from the seaside town (built by Herod the Great) where Roman governors live. You can imagine what his entourage looks like – military dominance and imperial power. He is coming as a figurehead of law and order, riding a steed, dressed in Roman regalia and accompanied by hundreds of Roman troops. His presence at Passover has nothing to do with making sacrifices, but to remind the Jewish community that they may be God’s people, but Rome is still their master. [7]
It’s a stark contrast. Both spectacles, but two completely different parades. Which leader would you follow?
Let’s imagine ourselves at the parade with Jesus. People all around us are asking, Who is this? And the crowds answered, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth.” This doesn’t look like traditional power. He is an upside down royal figure – obviously popular and charismatic among the people, but also gentle and humble in heart. There’s something so different about him. So, what do these parade goers do? Caught up in the pageantry – the street theater – the chants, the movement. Would you throw down your cloaks and join the second line behind the guy riding the donkey? Would you watch silently, hesitating, wondering what to do? Or would you turn away, walk back home? Even standing at the parade, the question is, Where will this lead? And will we follow him anyway?
The disciples are surely agonizing, “Jesus, are you really headed straight into Jerusalem’s political chaos for Passover?” It is so dangerous for him. Anything could happen there. You know, it’s interesting. The passage right after this one is where Jesus turns over the tables of the money changers and tells them to all get out. It also says the infirmed come to him and are healed. And then it says, the children are still shouting the refrain, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” When the chief priests and scribes heard the children, it says they were incensed, freaked out. Matt Skinner called them religious “aristocracy.” You think they felt threatened? When the youngest in the city are chanting about him, it means people are talking about HIM everywhere – this man who heals, and teaches like a rabbie, and tells us things we’ve never heard the way he says them. It kind of explains how the temperature in Jerusalem changes so quickly from Hosannas to Crucify Him!
The great Howard Thurman preached a sermon in which he portrayed Jesus’ decision to go to Jerusalem for the last time as a crossroads. Jesus must decide whether to go to Jerusalem, where he would be rejected and killed, or, to continue his ministry elsewhere and live. Thurman called the crossroad where Jesus stood – an agonizing dilemma. He knew going to Jerusalem would mean meeting his sure fate. But if he did not go, it would mean quieting the revelation of God within him. It would mean silencing the vision for the here, and not yet, Kingdom. Imagining Jesus’ inner turmoil, Thurman proclaims: “Shall I go home? Shall I go to Jerusalem? The Messiah [deliberates internally]. When you have been at a crossroad of that quality, or that character, or that kind, or that intimation however you say it–it doesn’t matter–but when you have stood at such a crossroad in your limited way, or my limited way, how did you vote? What did you do?”
We who want to follow the way of Jesus, the way of Love, stand at a crossroads. We, too, must choose not once, but everyday the kind of leader we will profess our allegiance to, or the kind of Christianity we want our neighbors to see. Cody Sanders said this week, the church is being asked to say who it believes Jesus to be. There is political street theater going on in our society everyday. It is drawing people in and proclaiming Jesus to be the kind of wartime victor whose good news is a militarized Gospel against anyone who would stray from a litmus test of beliefs – beliefs that Jesus never actually addressed and beliefs certainly not included in the commandments, that Jesus gave us. Our neighbors need to see a church that above everything else devotes itself to what Jesus said it all came down to: Love God with all your heart and mind and strength and love your neighbor as yourself.
Our cities and communities are in their own kind of turmoil. People on the edges of society, struggling to get by, and excluded by the stances of Christian nationalism need to see the people of the church, the followers of Christ, choosing to follow the One who turned over tables of oppression, and challenged power, and sat with sinners in order to bring healing and love into our streets – not warmongering, fear-blazing, and hell-raising.
Who will we follow? Let’s choose – everyday- between Empire and the way of mercy, justice, and love. Throw down your sweaty garments on the road and follow the one who risked it all to ride into Jerusalem.[8]
Where will this lead us? I’ll borrow words from someone else I read this week:
For just a moment, suspend your knowledge of what comes next – the death and destruction you know is coming. Just for a moment, be in the parade. Be on the happy, hopeful throng with your sights set on the arrival of salvation, of relief, at last. Soak in the presence of that Palestinian savior come to show us the way to peace and to love and to justice. And then get ready to cling tight to him, come what may.[9]
[1] https://www.neworleans.com/things-to-do/music/history-and-traditions/second-lines/
[2] https://brenebrown.com/podcast/accessing-joy-and-finding-connection-in-the-midst-of-struggle/
[3] Hamilton, Catherine Sider, Working Preacher commentary Matthew 21:1-11
[4] Hare, Douglas R. A., Interpretation series commentary, Matthew
[5] Sanctified Art Seeking Sermon Planning Guide quotes from Expositor’s Greek Testament commentary
[6] Hare.
[7] https://www.rageforexplaining.com/in-through-the-back-door/
[8] Sermon Brainwave podcast, Palm/Passion Sunday, Working Preacher 2026
[9] Rothaus, Kendall Rae, Sojourners, Living the Word, People of the Impossible, March 2026