Fr. Prior’s Homily for Palm Sunday, 29 March 2026

Matthew 21:1-11   Isaiah 50:4-7   Phillipians 2:6-11   Matthew 26:14-27:66

“And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up, saying: ‘Who is this?’” Literally, the whole city quaked. Our Lord's entry into “his own city” caused a disturbance of seismic proportions. When turned into a noun, the Greek word translated here as “stirred up” would normally be used for an earthquake. In Matthew's Gospel it plays an important role; it's a sign of the eternal, breaking through into our world.

Towards the beginning of his ministry, having preached the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus went on to heal and exorcise a great many people. His fame spread and great crowds began to gather around him by the Sea of Galilee. When he saw that, “he gave orders to go over to the other side,” because the time to tackle human sin had not yet come; it wasn't the right place for it either. So Jesus left the crowds for the sea. “And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea” (literally, there happened a great earthquake on the sea), “so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep.”

The whole of fallen nature, the primeval chaos, the waters of the Flood, recognized him and rose up in the last desperate act of rebellion against God. But Jesus rebuked them “and there was a great calm”. Soon afterwards, on the opposite shore, he cast a legion of demons out of two men. The demons begged him to send them into a herd of pigs that was feeding nearby. He agreed, “and behold, the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the waters.” The demons took over unclean animals and joined forces with retreating fallen nature.

Today in turn, liturgically speaking, the time has come for fallen humanity to quake around the Son of God. The place is right, too: Jerusalem the Holy City, God's chosen dwelling-place on earth. We have just entered it with Jesus, and the sea of human sin is closing in on him already, wave after wave. A new kind of storm is gathering. Jerusalem will become the site of the last battle for control over us. And on Good Friday, for a while, it will look as if we must remain enslaved to sin for ever. Silent and calm until then, Jesus will “cry out with a loud voice” and die. But in fact that's the Son of God falling asleep; that's the beginning of the true Sabbath, God's time of rest after completing his work.

“And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened.” That's the underworld shaking violently as the Son of God sleep-walks into it on Good Friday, with tremors coming up to the surface of the earth.

Finally, there will be another earthquake just before dawn on Easter Sunday, with “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary” by the tomb. “And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men.” But let us not get ahead of ourselves.

Brothers and sisters, nature and humanity, the underworld below and the heavens above, are violently shaken as the Son of God advances on them for our salvation. Amidst all this drama, he is the silent, still, humble, permanent One, while everything around him quakes. As we begin the holiest time of the year, the liturgy encourages us to follow closely in Jesus's footsteps. The Church wants us to remember and live through these events in real time, as it were; as they were unfolding; and there is a good reason for that. Just as you would want to be in the boat with Jesus during the storm, so now it's good that we have followed him into the city. Stay as close as you can throughout the week. Come to the Last Supper on Thursday; watch with him in the Garden of Gethsemane; stand with his Mother at the foot of the Cross on Friday, and go with Mary Magdalen and others to the tomb on Sunday. This is no mere sentimentality, no pious fantasy. Stay close because, though it may not look like it, that's in fact the safest place to be, the eye of the storm. Everything else will be shaken and fall to ruin, sooner or later. Where Jesus Christ stands or sits or kneels or hangs, even in his agony, even when experiencing pain, distress and sorrow, there the only still point on this side of eternity is, the only sure foothold. Stay close through the liturgy, sacramentally, and there's a good chance that, when the time comes for your world to fall into pieces around you, you will find him sleeping nearby.