Reflection for Palm Sunday

He who Comes

 On Palm Sunday, the liturgy takes us through the paces of Christ’s own journey up to Jerusalem. With palms in hand, we process into Church singing words similar to those voiced by the crowds greeting Our Lord: “Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come!” (Mk 11:10).

 The connection the liturgy makes between Jesus and King David, Israel’s iconic warrior-prince and a forebearer of Jesus, couldn’t be more explicit. But did you know there is a strange Old Testament story that prefigures this day’s entry into Jerusalem, a story specifically tied to the kingship of David?

 It goes like this.

 Around the time that the reign of the twelve tribes was consolidated in David’s hands, the king set his sights on Jerusalem as his capital city. It was a city of strong fortification; the non-Israelites who lived there, the Jebusites, were confident in the strength of their walls. They felt so safe, apparently, that they even taunted David, as the author of 2 Samuel tells us:

 King David and his men went to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who said to David, “You will not come in here, but the blind and the lame will ward you off”—thinking, “David cannot come in here.” (2 Samuel 5:6)

 But David employs cunning more than brute strength to enter Jerusalem—he sends picked men in through the city’s water way, turning a point of structural weakness to his advantage (cf. 1 Chron. 11:6). So the account continues:

 David said on that day, “Whoever would smite the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack the lame and the blind who are hated by David’s soul.” …And David dwelt in the stronghold, and called it the city of David. (v. 8)

 Seemingly, this brief episode is meant to signal us with the strength and glory of David and the piteousness of his foes who never get in a last word. But it also leaves us asking: is there any real kinship here between the earthly king who enters Jerusalem by strategy, violence, and hubris and his holy Son who comes into it, meek and riding on an ass? The range of possible answers gets more interesting when we remember that Our Lord does not destroy the types of the old law but fulfills and elevates them.

 After all, what are we to make of a King who allows his majesty to be openly and joyfully feted along the roadway, fully knowing that his destination is the ignominy of the Cross? Is this cunning? Or what are we to make of a King who has conquered the opposition of the blind and the lame, the weak and broken, by his acts of mercy and healing? Is this the violence that secures his Kingdom (cf. Mt 11:12)? And what are we to make of a King who claims his right to enter our own hearts, seeking out points of entry we have overlooked or hidden, so that he takes up his dwelling in our strongholds and calls us by his name?

 Perhaps these are the questions to ponder as we carry our triumphal palms into Jerusalem, toward Golgotha.