What Kind of King?

Jesus challenges our assumptions about power, status, and position

The Liturgy of the Palms

Matthew 21:1-11

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

The Liturgy of the Word

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 26:14- 27:66

or Matthew 27:11-54

Psalm 31:9-16

©2026 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached on Palm Sunday: The Sunday of the Passion at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your

words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

I wonder what kind of king they thought they were getting. That question has been rattling around in my brain all week. Because this week begins with excitement. Energy. Movement. A kind of holy parade.

Jesus comes into Jerusalem, and people start throwing their cloaks on the road. They wave branches. They shout, “Hosanna!” which doesn’t mean “praise God,” but something more like, “Save us now!”

And fair enough. If you had lived under the shadow of empire…
if you had known instability, oppression, religious anxiety, political fear…
if you had been longing for God to finally do something…
you might shout too. “Save us now!”

But here’s the curious thing: Jesus does not arrive the way kings normally arrive. No war horse. No army. No chariot. No spectacle of force.

He comes on a donkey. Not exactly the image of domination. 

He comes in humility. 

He comes in vulnerability. 

He comes in peace.

And so I wonder:
Did they really want this king?

Or did they envision a different kind of savior entirely?

A savior who would crush enemies.
A savior who would make things easy.
A savior who would fix the world quickly and on their terms.

And before we get too hard on them, I think that question belongs to us too.

What kind of Christ do we actually want? What sort of Jesus do we seek?

Do we yearn for one who blesses our plans, confirms our assumptions, and defeats the people we don’t like?

Or do we desire the Jesus who comes gently… 

who refuses the way of domination… 

who rides into the center of power without becoming power as the world understands it?

Palm Sunday is strange that way. It begins with praise, but it does not let us stay there in a shallow kind of triumph. In this liturgy, we move from palms to Passion. From “Hosanna!” to the story of suffering and the cross. And maybe that is because the Church, in her wisdom, knows how quickly human beings can change.

How quickly devotion can become disappointment. 

How quickly excitement can sour when Christ does not perform according to our expectations. 

How quickly we can praise a Messiah on Sunday and resist him by Friday.

So maybe Palm Sunday is not just a celebration. Maybe it is also an unveiling. Maybe it reveals the kind of king Jesus is. And maybe it reveals the kind of disciples we still struggle to be. 

Because Jesus does not enter Jerusalem to seize control. 

He enters Jerusalem to give himself away. 

He does not come to reign by fear. 

He comes to reign by love. 

He does not come to save by standing far off from human pain. 

He comes to enter it fully.

And that means this day is not just asking, “Will you wave a branch?”

It is asking, “Will you follow?” 

Will you follow this Jesus into the week ahead? 

Will you follow him to the table on Maundy Thursday, where love kneels down to wash feet? 

Will you follow him to Good Friday, where the love of God refuses to turn away from suffering? 

Will you follow him into the silence of Holy Saturday, where nothing seems resolved and yet God is not absent? 

That, I think, is the invitation of Palm Sunday. Not just to admire Jesus, the Christ. Not just to cheer for Our Lord. But to follow him.

And not the Jesus of our fantasies. 

The real Jesus. 

The humble one. 

The peaceful one. 

The brave one. 

The one who enters the holy city not to destroy, but to redeem.

So perhaps the most faithful thing we can do today is hold our palms with gratitude and honesty. Yes, gratitude — because Christ has come to us. But also humble honesty — because we do not always know what kind of king we are asking for.

And still, he comes.

Still, he comes to us in humility.
Still, he comes to us in mercy.
Still, he comes to us not as a tyrant, but as love in the flesh.

So let us greet him with joy.
And let us follow him with courage.
One day at a time.
Through the whole holy week.

Amen.