When Glory wore a Cross

You couldn’t write it. Those living under Roman occupation in 1st Century Palestine were besides themselves with excitement and expectation when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem. They lined the path with palm branches and cloaks, and shouts of “Hosanna!” rang around the city walls.

Jesus, having demonstrated the life-giving and challenging truths of the Kingdom of God, carried the hopes of countless people who hailed him as their king and saviour.

But somethings didn’t add up: Donkey, not a horse? This beast of burden symbolised peace, not war. A band of motley disciples rather than an armed guard? A symbol of power and influence shown in humility and service, not military might.

Within a few days the mood had changed. Arrested, tried and executed, Jesus died a criminal’s death. Hope turned to horror. Confusion reigned as the one who was meant to liberate them hung lifeless on a Roman cross.

But emerging from the heartbreak was something deeper, something more beautiful and more powerful than the might of Rome or the stranglehold of the religious authorities. In his suffering, Jesus exposed the broken systems of power and violence, and in his death he planted the seeds of a new kind of kingdom - one not built by force, but by love; not upheld by swords, but by sacrifice. When glory wore a cross.

True and humble King,

hailed by the crowd as messiah:

grant us the faith to know you and love you,

that we may be found beside you on the way of the cross,

which is the path of glory. Amen 

(Collect for Palm Sunday)