But not as we know it

 Given the Old Testament background you were making  quite a statement if you rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. You were making a claim to be the king, the long-awaited saviour of the people, the Messiah.

Bermondsey voices

But the irony of Palm Sunday was that although Jesus was a king, he was not a king as we know it. Likewise, although he was a saviour, he was the saviour (or the kind of saviour) they were expecting. 

After making those points at St James this morning at our Palm Sunday service (enriched by contributions from our local community choir, Bermondsey Voices), and reading a book this afternoon about the history of the First World War, my thoughts turned to a poem that came out of that war, which always speaks to me very powerfully at this time of year: In 'Jesus of the scars,' Edward Shilitto says this:

The other gods were strong, but Thou was weak;
They rode, but thou didst stumble to a throne,
But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak 
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone

This is the Palm Sunday Jesus: gentle, humble and riding on a donkey, reigning from a cross, defeating his enemies by dying at their hands - truly a king, but not as we know it.