Palm Sunday 
It was the Christians of the city of Jerusalem who remembered most poignantly the entry of the Messiah in triumph just a few short days before his arrest and execution.
It has mixed emotions locked into it. There is a sense of fickleness, of betrayal by the people who honoured him at his entry and howled for his crucifixion so soon after. But there is also a sense in which, with real faith, we echo their cries of Hosanna to the Son of David.
’Son of David’ is a royal title - a dangerous title. As we will see, it is precisely for claiming royal status that he is sentenced to death. The Jews will ask him if he is ‘the Christ’ meaning the anointed king. Pilate will ask him ‘Are you a king?’ And in the end the notice on his cross advertising his offence will read, in Latin, Greek and Hebrew - “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”.
This doubleness of today’s feast, part shame, part honour, reflects the same things in us. The cross always does. It provokes our love and our gratitude, our faith and our praise. But it also spotlights our lukewarmness, highlights the many ways in which we carry on our lives as though we had not been bought at a great price, as if we cared more about the trivia of this world than about the offer of eternal life in the Gospel.
If this makes us feel a little uncomfortable, then I think that is probably a good thing, so long as it ends up with humble trust in God’s goodness, not in despair about our weakness. Let us remember that God gave his Son up for us, and his Son gave up his life for us, not because we were so good, but because even while we were in open rebellion against him, he loved us. Our weakness inspires his kindness and he uses his power for us, not against us.
To quote St Paul: “We should glory in the cross of Our Lord, Jesus Christ. For he is our salvation, our life and our resurrection. In him we are saved and made free!”
