A homily for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, March 29, 2026
Matthew 21:1-11, Isaiah 50:4-7, Philippians 2:6-11, Matthew 26:14—27:66
I’m spoiled. Not rotten, as far as I’ve ever been able to determine (though some people may disagree). But definitely spoiled. So is my wife, my children and daughter-in-law, my brothers and sisters-in-law, and our cats.
Our parents spoiled us, and we, in turn, spoiled the ensuing generations.
Yeah, we have it pretty good.
Our parents and we did it out of love, and because we as children and our children in turn appreciated what went into the spoiling — the time shared, the places visited, the money spent, the sacrifices made — none of us turned out all that rotten.
Yes, it all came down, it all comes down to appreciating what we’ve been given abundantly.
To gratitude. To saying thanks. Often. Sincerely.
Today, all over the world, we’re called to appreciate what Jesus did for us 2,000 years ago and what he does for us every day.
He sacrificed his life on Earth to guarantee our lives in Heaven.
And as we again hear the words of the Passion narrative, we recognize that the itinerant rabbi made his sacrifice in the bloodiest, most excruciating way.
Yeah, those Romans had a knack for cruelty and humiliation.
Our Scriptures, with an extra Gospel today, start with hosannas. They start with the somewhat triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on borrowed beasts of burden — not exactly a golden chariot pulled by Arabian thoroughbreds. A parade nonetheless, complete with cheerleaders waving palm-palms.
The Guy!
The Messiah!
The Kicker-Out-er of our pagan foreign oppressors!
But it wasn’t long before the Israelites turned on him, looking this gift horse in the mouth, to coin a phrase.
They didn’t appreciate what they had been given. They wanted something else. They wanted someone else.
They wanted the Schwinn Sting-Ray bicycle, not the 26-inch Huffy. The Rolex, not the Timex.
Re-gifting wasn’t even an option, as far as they were concerned. Trash this one and wait for a better deal.
And so, on that Friday we call Good, we had the kangaroo court’s conviction of Jesus of Nazareth, leading to his death on the cross. Whipped, bruised and bleeding, stripped naked, nailed through his limbs like a side of beef on a meathook. Utterly dehumanized, even as his words and actions elevated humankind back to the possibility of near-perfection that God had given Adam and Eve in the Garden.
A lot of people didn’t get it. Even some of Christ’s followers scratched their heads, turned away, ran away, and decided that what they’d done and said for the last three years was for nothing.
They misunderstood what Jesus had promised, or even forgot his promises altogether.
But some of them didn’t, and they rejoiced at the empty tomb. Those disciples cheered and wept for joy when they encountered the risen Son of God. They put their gratitude to work, spreading the Good News and keeping faith, hope and charity alive and growing for millennia.
Inspiring those of us who annually mourn the Nazarene’s death on Good Friday and rejoice the following Sunday.
Each Palm Sunday, we hear the long, long, long Passion proclaimed. Its length serves to reinforce just how heavy all of Christ’s burdens were, not just the cross. The Passion’s details make us cringe, make us glad the scourging and all that followed didn’t happen to us.
The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ reminds us that God has spoiled us, the way any parent does. In ways only the Creator of Everything and the Source of Love can.
And, like any good parent, God asks, simply and clearly:
Do we appreciate what we have?
A not-so-humble plug
A couple of years ago, I was honored to guest-preach during Holy Week, and I later uploaded the homily to this blog. I offer it again via the link below.
