Liturgy of the Palms and Passion Sunday, rcl yr a, 2026
Matthew 21:1-11
Isaiah 50:4-9A; Psalm 31:9-16; Phillippians 2:5-11; Matthew 27:11-54
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
I wonder if it feels odd to you, that we do two very different things today? Because we do two very different things today! We celebrate the Liturgy of the Palms, Jesus’s Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, on the same day we celebrate also Passion Sunday, and we read together an account of the crucifixion.
It can get increasingly confusing too as we enter the Great Three Days, when we will, again, celebrate Good Friday, and read together another account of the crucifixion.
Without going into great detail—there is some method to this liturgical madness!—I find it best to imagine two different parallel calendars: one in which we celebrate Holy Week, beginning today, with the Palms liturgy, and moving through Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the resurrection in the Great Vigil of Easter; this calendar runs alongside a Sunday calendar that ends Lent with Passion Sunday, and where Easter begins next week with the Sunday of the Resurrection.
It does make today feel like a bit of a mashup—but think of it as two liturgies. One: the Liturgy of the Palms, part of a series of services that will continue on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday; and think of the Passion as one of two consecutive liturgies that will find its culmination on Easter Sunday.
Perhaps over the next century we will fix all this and tidy it up.
In the meantime, though, to my mind, there is some benefit to having the Palms liturgy on the same day as the Passion liturgy, because it creates for us a deeply moving, and rewarding, contrast. Today, I’d like to speak briefly on one way that this contrast can tell us something about human dignity.
Human dignity, and what constitutes human dignity, is a contested notion in our day. Is dignity something that is given by others, and in this sense, is dignity something that can be taken away when we feel we are no longer being treated with dignity? Or is dignity something that is inherent to human being, and in this sense, do we have dignity even when we are treated poorly? Roughly—is dignity a social reality, or is it something more deeply baked into human being? Both the liturgy of the Palms, and the Passion Sunday liturgy, each give us a little bit of insight into this.
In the Palms Liturgy, we celebrate Jerusalem’s welcome of Jesus. Jesus is received as a humble Messiah—a royal entry on donkey and colt; cloaks and branches are laid on the road; the crowds shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” It’s a messianic welcoming party, and Jesus is treated with great dignity. The Palms episode shows us that we can make choices and treat people with dignity, and by this, we can say that yes: the dignity of others is, at least in part, in our hands. How we treat others matters, and we can take part in conferring dignity on others.
It becomes clear, though, in the Passion, that we can also treat others without dignity. Jesus is publicly beaten and humiliated, stripped of most of his clothing, mocked with a crown of thorns, and set out to die a humiliating public death. We can clearly see, here, that a person can most certainly be treated without dignity—that just as we can choose to treat others with dignity, we can choose to withdraw that treatment.
But when we choose to treat someone without dignity, does this erode the reality of a dignity that is well beyond the world’s treatment of Jesus? Is Jesus is less of a Messiah, even though he is treated as something less than human? No. We will be reminded of this at the Vigil, reminded that we are to treat all those we meet with dignity; and we do this because we are each made in the image of God, and by this we are given a dignity that cannot be taken away, even as the world might not treat us all with the dignity that is given in the way we are made.
The image of God stamped upon each of us cannot be effaced.
And we see this in the Passion of Jesus. The crucifixion is not only an unsuccessful attempt at undermining Jesus’s messianic dignity; it is an unsuccessful attempt at undermining his human dignity as well.
Jesus is disabled on the cross, quite literally prevented from participating—in mind and body—in the world he so loves. But we still, nevertheless, imagine that this man is fully human, as close to a true image and likeness of God as we will see or know. Even disabled, even as the world tries to strip that dignity away, Jesus has a dignity that cannot be taken away; even disabled, Jesus remains the true image and likeness of God.
Jesus is in pain. But we still, nevertheless, imagine that this man is fully human, as close to a true image and likeness of God as we will see or know. Even in pain, Jesus has a dignity that cannot be taken away; even in pain, Jesus remains the true image and likeness of God.
Jesus is a man whose agency has been completely stripped away. He cannot act according to his own will; he needs medicinal help in the form of sour wine; he cannot carry his cross without help, or get down from the cross when he is placewd upon it. His life and death are entirely in the hands of others. But we still, nevertheless, imagine that this man is fully human, and as close to a true image and likeness of God as we will ever see or know. Even as he depends entirely on the help of others, Jesus has a dignity that cannot be taken away.
And this is true for us too. Disability, dependence on medical institutions and professionals, being in pain, relying on others, and not being in charge of our own lives—these things do not, and cannot, erode the dignity we are given as creatures made in the image of God, any more than Jesus, dying disabled, dying in pain, dying in reliance on others, dying without control over his own future, was robbed of his own dignity. While we can, and should, treat others with dignity, and I would not wish an ignominious death for any of us, our dignity is not found in a painless death on our own terms and in our own way.
Part of the story of the Palms and the Passion, is that dignity is given to us as creatures; and we should treat others with dignity, seen today in small things, like Simon’s carrying of Jesus’s cross, and in the medicine given in the sour wine; and it is affirmed, by faith, as a gift given in our own creatureliness, made as we are in the image of God, an image that cannot be effaced by disability, pain, poverty, help received from others, or even the feeling that we are losing control of our own futures.
There is a dignity given that cannot be taken away, even in death—including death upon a cross.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.