Matthew 21:1-11

What the Lord Needs

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “What the Lord Needs” Matthew 21:1-11

Disciples have been seeking to discern what the Lord needs for centuries. It started with those four fishermen—Peter, Andrew, James, and John. There they were, tending their nets on the shore of Galilee when Jesus came along with his invitation, “Follow me.” According to Matthew’s gospel, they immediately discerned that what was needed was some radical obedience. They left their nets and old Zebedee behind and followed Jesus, all the way from Capernaum to that first Palm Sunday parade in Jerusalem.

Born in 1875, Albert Schweitzer hailed from that German-speaking area of France—Alsace Lorraine. He was a pastor’s kid and a prodigious talent from an early age. He was a remarkable musician, skilled in both playing and building pipe organs. He was also an outstanding student, earning doctorates in both theology and philosophy. It looked like Schweitzer would follow in his father’s footsteps in Alsace, but in 1904, he saw a pamphlet from a missionary society, seeking clergy to serve in Africa. This, Schweizer perceived, was what the Lord needed of him.

Not unlike the late Dr. Schweitzer, Tyler and Rochelle Holm are contemporary mission workers. Their calling to Africa began as church members, participating in short-term mission trips to the Synod of Livingstonia, Malawi. There, where one minister might serve 6,000 congregants, Tyler saw a church deeply in need of pastors. Rochelle saw the desperate need for clean water and improved sanitation. They wondered, could our short-term commitment become a long-term one? This, they concluded, was what the Lord needed of them.

The Lord would need many things during that Holy Week in Jerusalem. The first order of business was a donkey, a Jenny with a colt in tow would fulfill his plans perfectly. In his entrance to the holy city, Jesus wanted to send a message about the kind of king he was and the kingdom he represented. Jesus would embody the messianic hopes of the Prophet Zechariah, who envisioned God’s king riding into Jerusalem astride a donkey to bring an end to war and establish peace for the nations. On Palm Sunday, Jesus astride a donkey was the Prince of Peace, who would lead the people in paths of peace.

Jesus needed two disciples to go get the donkey and colt. We can imagine that request didn’t go over well. A donkey was a valued piece of property, needed for transport and farmwork. This donkey had a dependent colt, a youngster still in need of mother’s milk. I imagine there was hesitancy and shuffling off feet, some careful rehearsing of what would be said to the donkey’s owner when they came to collect it. “Bring me the donkey,” that was what the Lord needed of them. The donkey’s owner, perhaps knowing Jesus or sensing a leading of the Holy Spirit, complied with their request. The rest was history.

There were other things that Jesus needed that week. Most of those needs would go unmet. Jesus needed the insiders who controlled the temple to recognize his authority and welcome his teachings, but they rejected and planned to arrest him. Jesus needed the loyalty of Judas, but he would sell his rabbi for thirty pieces of silver. Jesus would need his inner circle of Peter, James, and John to watch and pray with him in the garden of Gethsemane, but they slept. Jesus would need his disciples to stand with him in peace when the guards came to arrest him, but some would resort to violence and all would run away. Jesus needed the Sanhedrin to rule with justice, but they chose to condemn him on trumped up charges in a midnight, kangaroo court. Jesus would need Pilate to fear God more than the emperor, but the procurator sent him to the cross.

Indeed, the only ones who provided what Jesus needed that week were the ones with the least power to do anything. Mary of Bethany anointed him in anticipation of his coming death. The women keened and grieved at the cross as the crowds taunted and the soldiers gambled for Jesus’ clothes. A dying criminal acknowledged Jesus’ kingdom, spoke in his defense, and accompanied the Lord in suffering and death. Oh, Jesus, to need so much and to be given so little. It breaks our hearts, as it must have broken yours.

Dorothee Soelle was a German theologian and poet, who taught for a decade at Union Theological Seminary in NYC. Soelle came of age during World War II and was deeply scarred by her experience of war and the inhumanity of the Holocaust. Her family sheltered in their home the Jewish mother of one of Dorothee’s classmates, yet her brother was killed while fighting for Germany on the eastern front. Dorothee developed a radical theology of devotion to God and resistance to evil in the world. She taught that when disciples cultivate a rich spiritual life, steeped in prayer and reflection, we are awakened to God’s will for the world. In other words, it is our spiritual life, our meditation upon the life of Christ, that informs us, here and now, about what Jesus needs.

According to Soelle, Jesus still needs us. In the life of the Spirit, we are pulled into engagement with all that opposes the Kingdom of God. For Soelle, this meant opposing earlier wars in the Middle East, standing with oppressed women, minorities, and children; standing against growing anti-immigrant sentiment; and naming what she called the “New Fascism”—the rise of authoritarian states. Against the advent of these evils, disciples are called to partner with God, proclaiming and seeking God’s Kingdom. As we take action, we dare to hope that God can take our efforts and use them for God’s purpose.

Dorothee put it this way in her poem “When He Came.”

“He needs you

that’s all there is to it

without you he’s left hanging

goes up in Dachau’s smoke

is sugar and spice in the baker’s hands

gets revealed in the next stock market crash

he’s consumed and blown away

used up

without you

Help him

that’s what faith is

he can’t bring it about

his kingdom

couldn’t then couldn’t later can’t now

not at any rate without you

and that is his irresistible appeal”

When we step out in response to what Jesus needs, our lives are transformed, even as we seek to nudge this world a little closer to the Kingdom of God. Albert Schweitzer, of course, learned that the missionary society would not send him to Africa as a pastor. He was too radical. Instead, he went back to school and studied medicine while his wife Helene trained as a nurse. They knew the Lord needed them. In 1913, they arrived at the mission station of Andende near Lambaréné. Their first “surgery” was set up in a former chicken coop. As the days passed, more and more men, women, and children came for treatment. Schweitzer fundraised across Europe and the United States to build the state-of-the-art Lambaréné Hospital, which is still operating in Gabon. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1952.

Tyler and Rochelle Holm married in 2006 and went to Malawi as mission workers in 2007. Tyler puts his training as a pastor and scholar to work by teaching in the seminary of the University of Livingstonia. What began under Tyler’s leadership as a certificate program to equip lay people to lead in churches he has developed into a Master’s degree program. He is currently training about 200 Malawians to pastor churches desperately in need of leadership. Rochelle Holm uses her graduate training in public health to work in managing the University of Mzuzu’s Water and Sanitation Centre of Excellence. She is passionate about providing clean water and sanitation in northern Malawi and beyond, especially in tending to the particular needs of those who live with disabilities. A few years into their itinerancy, the Holms responded to the ubiquitous needs of Malawi’s many orphans by adopting their daughter Mphatso. Tyler and Rochele emphasize that their engagement in Malawi is driven by their sense of Christ’s calling. The Lord needs them.

The theologian and poet Dorothee Soelle died suddenly in 2004. Yet more than two decades later, her theology of piety and resistance speaks powerfully to a world that is once again embroiled in war in the Middle East, the oppression of vulnerable people, the surge in anti-immigrant hate, and the rise of authoritarian states. The Prince of Peace still longs to lead us in paths of peace, just as he did on that first Palm Sunday. Pray hard, Dorothee might counsel us. Pray hard, listen, and act. The Lord needs us.

Resources

Matt Skinner. “Walking the Palm Sunday Path: A Lenten Sermon Series for 2026” in Preaching Series, January 21, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/walking-the-palm-sunday-path-in-lent-a-sermon-series-for-2026

Bill Tesch. “Matthew 21:1–11 – Jesus’s Triumphal Entry” in Preaching Series, Jan. 22, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/palm-sunday-jesuss-triumphal-entry-matthews-version

Michael Kirby. “Pastor Perspective on Matthew 21:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, Matthew, vol. 2. Louisville: WJKP, 2013.

Nancy Hawkins. “Dorothee Soelle: Radical Christian, Mystic in Our Midst” in The Way, 44/3 (July 2005), 85-96.

Alois Prinz. “Albert Schweitzer: out of reverence for life” in Deutschland, Aug. 27, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.deutschland.de/en/topic/life/albert-schweitzer-nobel-laureate-gabon

Presbyterian Mission Agency. “Partner with Presbyterian World Mission in Malawi.” Accessed online at https://pma.pcusa.org/site_media/media/uploads/worldmission/malawi_flier_030716.pdf

–. “Whitworth M.A. in Theology alumnus serves in Malawi, Africa” in Whitworth University News, Oct. 17, 2013. Accessed online at https://news.whitworth.edu/2013/10/whitworth-ma-in-theology-alumnus-serves.html

Matthew 21:1-11

21 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4 This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet:

5 “Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11 The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

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Many Names

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When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken, saying. “Who is this?”—Matthew 21:10

All: We called him by many names.

First Voice: Spring rains blew in from the Great Sea. The hills of Judah traded drab winter browns for green—in some places, lush and deep, in others, bright and glowing. The sheep lambed. Little ones nursed greedily with wagging tails from weary ewes. East of the city, the wilderness bloomed. Delicate blossoms danced fleetingly above rocky, red soil. Wadis, that by mid-summer would be dry as dust, filled with water. The Jordan was swollen with snowmelt rushing down from the slopes of Mt. Hermon. From marshy riversides, clouds of storks rose to whirl across the sky, their long legs trailing and harsh voices calling as they journeyed from Cush to the lands beyond the sea. At night, our breath hung in clouds, so we drew close to the fire and pulled our cloaks snug to guard against the cold. During the day, the sun shone bright in a deep blue sky, tempered by fine white clouds.

All: We called him by many names.

Second Voice: The Passover was near. We turned our hearts and feet to Jerusalem. Once we were slaves in Egypt. We groaned hopeless beneath Pharaoh’s iron yoke; yet, God heard our cries and called Moses to lead us to freedom, a task that proved easier said than done. God sent nine waves of plague and pestilence to soften Pharaoh’s hard heart: blood and frogs, gnats and flies, disease and boils, hail, locusts, and darkness. Just when we thought that Pharaoh would never relent, God sent the tenth and most terrible plague. To shield us, the Lord told us to slaughter a lamb and paint the door posts of our dwellings red with blood. That night, while we roasted the lamb and dressed for travel in silence, the night was filled with screams as the angel of death passed over our homes but took the lives of the firstborn of all Egypt. The next morning, while Pharaoh wept, we made our exodus, bound for a land that flowed with milk, honey, and freedom.  Every year as the Passover drew near, we remembered what God had done for us, and we dreamed of what God might do next.

All: We called him by many names.

Third Voice: Passover pilgrims filled the roads and flowed up to the Holy City. From the East, merchants to the Gentiles sailed home across the Great Sea and walked the Roman Road from Caesarea, alongside centurions sent to Jerusalem to keep the Pax Romana. From the South, caravans converged in Beersheba, bringing beautiful, dark-skinned cousins from the source of the Nile and the jungles of Ethiopia. From the West, fierce nomads with camels and veiled women traded their desert camps for pilgrim paths. From the North, farmers left the soft hills of Galilee, followed the Jordan south to Jericho, and climbed up through the Valley of the Shadow of Death—4,000 feet in fifteen miles.

All: We called him by many names.

First Voice: Atop the Mount of Olives we paused, looking out across the Kidron Valley. Our breath caught and hearts raced to see that most precious and sacred of sights: the Temple crowning Jerusalem in the morning light. In the midst of our multitude, one pilgrim rode a donkey colt, like the Prince of Peace, promised long ago by the Prophet Zechariah. We waved palms and surrounded him with our songs. 

All: We called him by many names.

Second Voice: We called him teacher. He taught with parables and proverbs, drawing sacred truth from everyday life: lilies of the field, birds of the air, a sower planting seed, a woman making bread.  To hear his bold teaching, listeners filled the synagogues of Galilee to overflowing. When they became too numerous, he taught on the lakeshore, speaking from a boat moored in the shallows. He taught on the mountainside to vast crowds who feasted on his words and then feasted on miraculous meals of fish and loaves. As he read from the scroll of the Prophet Isaiah, we saw him as the fulfillment of ancient promises to bring sight to the blind, mobility to the lame, and freedom to the prisoner. So, we called him Teacher and followed on his heels, eager to hear the words he spoke.

All: We called him by many names.

Third Voice: We called him king. His father was a Bethlehem boy of the line of David. Hadn’t God promised to send a king like David to restore the fortunes of Israel? That morning, on the pilgrim way down the Mount of Olives, he looked like a peasant king. He looked like Judas Maccabeus, who, two centuries before, had led a grassroots revolution to rid the land of the Greeks and purify the Temple. Between the distant memory of Passover and the near history of the Maccabees, we dared to hope for change. So, we welcomed him with the Hallel Psalms[1] of pilgrims. We called him king and spread our cloaks upon the road as a sign of our allegiance.

All: We called him by many names.

First Voice: We called him Lord.  He called us away from our fishing nets, plows, and tax booths with an authority that made us see that he was special. Then, as we followed him throughout the Galilee, we saw things that had first made us question our sanity, and then made us rethink God’s plan for the salvation of our people. With a power that could only come from God, he cleansed lepers, cast out demons, stilled storms, and walked on water. We began to wonder where he ended and God began—or if God could somehow have been in the man from the very beginning.  So, we called him Lord to let him know that we alone knew who he truly was.

All: We called him by many names

Second Voice: We called him a heretic, a teacher of lies. We noticed he was less than scrupulous in observing the Torah. He ate with sinners and healed on the Sabbath day. He welcomed tax collectors and taught women. He called our scribes and Pharisees white-washed tombs and blind guides. How could such a man be holy as God is holy? We saw that he was a threat to tradition and a danger to the people, and so we challenged him in the Temple. With our word games and rhetorical tricks, we sought to shame him and condemn him for blasphemy. When this failed, we plotted to bring about his death. We justified our lust for his blood, claiming that the death of the one man was a small price to pay to safeguard the holiness and peace of the many.

All: We called him by many names.

Third Voice: We called him a criminal and said he was no king at all. He had no taste for violence. He exhorted his followers to put down their weapons, saying that to live by the sword was to die by the sword. He lacked the will and the political ambition for regime change. He was less a king like David, ready to wage war and seize power, and more a Passover lamb, fit only for the slaughter. By Friday morning, we traded the song of “Blessed is the king” for the cry of “Crucify him.” Then, with mixed contempt and indifference, we watched a very different parade. Beaten, bloody, and broken, he dragged his cross through the city streets to the place we called The Skull.

All: We called him by many names.

First Voice: We called him a stranger. The mood turned murderously dark in the Holy City, and the adoration that had prompted us to call him, “Lord,” turned to fear, terrible fear. It was the kind of fear that makes you look over your shoulder, robs you of sleep, and loosens your bowels. It was the kind of fear that makes you weep like a lost child or a cuckolded husband. It was a fear that overwhelmed and unmanned us. While he prayed with bitter tears of anguish, we slept.  When the betrayer came with the Temple guards to arrest him, we ran. While he was tried before the Council, we denied him. As he suffered on the cross, we left the women to bear witness.  When they laid him in the tomb, we hid.

All: We called him by many names.

Second Voice: Teacher.

Third Voice: King.

First Voice: Lord.

Second Voice: Heretic.

Third Voice: Criminal.

All: Stranger.

[1] Psalms 113—118 are known as the Hallel Psalms, or simply the Hallel (Hallel means praise in Hebrew). While many psalms praise God, this set of psalms became associated with Passover, due the mention of the deliverance from Egypt in Psalm 114.

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The Cross or the Gun?

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Sabbath Day Thoughts “The Cross or the Gun?” Matthew 21:1-11

We heard news this week of yet another school shooting. On Monday, a former student shot out the glass doors of The Covenant School in Nashville. Armed with two assault rifles and a handgun, they began shooting indiscriminately. Police, tipped off about the attack, were on the scene in eleven minutes.  The shooter was dead at fourteen minutes. In the aftermath, we learned that three nine-year-old students and three staff members had been killed.

It’s the latest incident in a long series of school shootings that have prompted our thoughts, prayers, and tears. There have been 456 shootings at schools since the attack on Columbine High School in 1999. It’s part of a larger epidemic of gun violence that has infected our nation. There have been 134 mass shootings in America so far this year, taking the lives of 196 people and wounding a further 470. The growing violence and mounting death toll are an intolerable fact of life in this country, a fact that we have grown hardened to. There seems to be a lack of political will to bring real change, perhaps most clearly demonstrated by Tennessee Congressman Andy Ogles, who represents the district of The Covenant School. He offered his thoughts and prayers for the families of victims this week while defending his controversial Christmas card showing him and his family posing with assault rifles in front of their Christmas tree.

Today in Nashville, there is a small shrine that has taken shape outside The Covenant School with flowers, balloons, stuffed animals, and messages of remembrance and love. Flags are flying at half-staff as an expression of mourning. Families are grieving and planning funerals. Palm Sunday worship is underway. Worshippers wave palms and sing “Hosanna” in the Palm Sunday parade. Today in Nashville and all across our country gun violence is the leading cause of death for our children.

That first Palm Sunday parade was a peaceful protest against the violent occupation of Israel. New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan teaches that there were two parades that Passover week in Jerusalem. One parade approached the city from the east. There Pontius Pilate and the Roman Army rode into the Holy City from Caesarea Maritima.  At Passover, when the Jewish people remembered the deliverance of their ancestors from slavery in Egypt, it was always prudent to beef up the security in the Holy City, just in case anyone had Messianic pretentions. Pilate’s parade waved the imperial standard of the Roman Empire. Pilate and his officers were mounted on splendid war horses. Foot soldiers marched in cadence, armed with swords and knives, spears and javelins. A twenty-first century version of Pilate’s parade would have those soldiers brandishing M4s and driving Bradley armored fighting vehicles with TOW missile launchers and twenty-five-mm chain guns that can fire 100 rounds per minute.

Jesus’s parade was carefully staged to be the antithesis of Pilate’s. Instead of riding a war horse, Jesus rode a donkey, just like the Prince of Peace that the Prophet Zechariah had promised would one day come to break the battle bow and put an end to war (Zech. 9). Jesus’s “soldiers” spread their cloaks on the ground, like the generals who once hailed Jehu their king. They brandished palms, like the jubilant crowds that welcomed Judas Maccabeus after he defeated the Greeks. Instead of marching songs, the pilgrims sang hosanna and blessing. This was no violent insurrection, it was a peaceful revolution that anticipated the Kingdom where love for God and neighbor would be the rule of the land, where God’s people would beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks.

Anyone who has ever gone out early to claim your favorite sidewalk spot for the Winter Carnival Parade can testify that parades need people. We look on and clap, smile, sing, wave, and get swept up in the grand celebration.  Jesus’s parade would have had enthusiastic onlookers and participants, those who knew him, had heard him teach, had experienced his miracles, and those who asked, “Who is this?”  Pilate’s parade would have had its own audience, a crowd that turned out to watch the pomp and welcome the procurator. Some may have been collaborators. Some may have profited from the occupation. Most probably turned out because we all love parades, and we grow numb to everyday injustice. Some days, any excuse is a good one if it will appease the powerful and make the best of a bad situation.

A great irony of Holy Week is the great shifting of allegiance. Those who danced in Jesus’ parade would abandon the ranks. They traded their songs of hosanna for shouts of “Crucify him!” The Prince of Peace would meet a violent end—beaten, scourged, mocked, crucified. On Good Friday, as Jesus was marched to the cross, it would feel as if Pilate’s parade had prevailed.

On Palm Sunday, we are caught between the two parades. We know the Way of Jesus. We can quote, “Blessed are the peacemakers! Turn the other cheek! Love your neighbor!” There is no question about what Jesus expects of those who will march with him.

Yet we live in a culture that is addicted to violence. We see it in the cop shows that dominate prime time tv and the video games that preoccupy our kids. We see it in our national obsession with guns. The United States is the only nation in the world where civilian guns outnumber people. There are 120 guns in private ownership for every 100 Americans. The annual number of US deaths from gun violence is eighteen times the average rate in other developed countries. With numbers like that, it should be no surprise that no other developed nation has mass shootings at the same scale or frequency as we do.

On Palm Sunday in America, we are caught between parades: one leads to love and life and the other has been a source of immeasurable heartbreak and death.

Shane Claiborne is an author and founder of The Simple Way, a new monastic community in Philadelphia. He’s one of the best spokespeople I know in describing the tension between life as we know it and life as Jesus calls us to live. In his book Beating Guns: Hope for People Who Are Weary of Violence, Shane argues that we have a gun problem and a heart problem in this country. With artist and blacksmith Michael Moore, he dramatizes the biblical call to beat our swords into ploughshares by turning guns into garden implements. In gun-blighted communities, they invite mothers who have lost their children to guns to come and weep and beat AR-15’s into rakes and shovels. It’s a carefully staged antithesis to our national love affair with the gun. It’s a little like Jesus’s carefully staged peaceful ride into the Holy City, a ride that invited—and still invites—the world to turn from death to life.

In response to the shooting at The Covenant School this week, Shane wrote, “As a devoted Christian, I am convinced that the gun and the cross give us two very different versions of power. One is about being ready to die. The other is about being ready to kill. There comes a point where we cannot serve two masters. We cannot love our enemies as Christ commands, and simultaneously prepare to kill them.” I know that there are people who feel that they are devout Christians who will argue with Shane. They will say that guns are the best way to keep America safe. They will insist that we should arm teachers in classrooms—even though there were teachers who had guns at The Covenant School. They will feel great sorrow at mass shootings. They will think about it. They will pray. They will quote Jesus and send out Christmas cards with their nine-year-olds brandishing assault weapons. But when all is said and done, the choice is really quite simple.  Will we choose the gun or will we choose the cross? Will we march with Pilate or will we follow Jesus?

There was a parade on Thursday in Nashville. More than 1,000 people—children, teens, parents—turned out. They entered the capitol building and lined the hallways. They chanted simple slogans like, “Save our children,” “Never again,” and “Not one more.” They filled the gallery of the legislative chamber, holding signs that said, “I’m nine years old” and “Gun Reform Now.” Some carried pictures of the victims of Monday’s shooting. There are more protests planned for the coming days in Tennessee, including a student-led march on the capitol scheduled for tomorrow. I’m sure it will be quite a parade. I’m sure Jesus will be there.

Resources

Adam Tambourin. “Large crowds gather in protest at the Capitol” in Axios, March 31, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.axios.com/local/nashville/2023/03/31/large-crowds-gather-in-protest-at-the-capitol

Jonathan Mattise, Travis Loller, and Holly Meyer. “Nashville shooter who killed 6 drew maps, surveilled school.” AP News, March 28, 2023. Accessed online at https://apnews.com/article/nashville-school-shooting-covenant-school-5da45b469ccb6c9533bbddf20c1bfe16

Ariana Baio. “Tennessee lawmaker defends 2021 Christmas card of children brandishing guns in wake of Nashville shooting.” The Independent, March 29, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/crime/tennessee-lawmaker-defends-2021-christmas-card-of-children-brandishing-guns-in-wake-of-nashville-shooting/ar-AA19bISA

Kara Fox, Krystina Shveda, Natalie Croker, and Marco Chacon. “How US gun culture stacks up with the world,” CNN News, March 28, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.cnn.com/2021/11/26/world/us-gun-culture-world-comparison-intl-cmd/index.html

Shane Claiborne. “Christ, Not Guns: A Reflection on the Nashville Shooting” in Red Letter Christians, March 31, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.redletterchristians.org/christ-not-guns-a-reflection-on-the-nashville-shooting/

Veronice Miles. “Pastoral Perspective on Matthew 21:1-11” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.

Andrew Prior. “Tell the Story” in One Man’s Web: Becoming Human in Australia, April 13, 2014. Accessed online at https://onemansweb.org/tell-the-story-matthew-21-1-11.html

David Ewart. “Matthew 21:1-11” in Holy Textures Year A, 2011. Accessed online at https://www.holytextures.com/2011/03/matthew-21-1-11-year-a-lent-6-palms-palm-sunday-sermon.html

Matthew 21:1-11

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, 5“Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” 6The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” 10When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Image credit: Alexis Marshall WPLN News. Accessed online at https://wpln.org/post/episodes/community-responds-to-the-covenant-school-shooting/