Palm SundayPalm Sunday
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“TOMORROW is Palm Sunday,” said the boy named Billy. “Why do some churches give the people palm branches to carry?”
“On the Sunday preceding the crucifixion Christ made his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem. All the people came out to meet him, strewing palm branches in his path to do him honor, just as you school children all cheer when the president, or some great hero comes to town.”
“Jerusalem is a warm country and must have many beautiful flowers,” said the boy named Billy. “Why didn’t they bring flowers instead of stiff, rusty palm branches?”
“Because they wished to show himallhonor,” said Somebody. “And the palm was their emblem of joy and peace and victory. His goodness and power were beginning to have their effect on the minds of the people. They were beginning to believe that Jesus was really the Christ whom their forefathers had promised would come and bring them comfort, peace and general good tidings.”
The boy named Billy looked puzzled. “So they hailed him on Palm Sunday and crucified him the following Friday!”
Somebody nodded. “Human praise and opinion is like that—it is always a variable thing full of chance and change—unstable—but Jesus wasn’t moved for a moment by the praise and flattery of the people, because he knew what was in store for him in Jerusalem. He knew that Judas Iscariot, one of his own disciples, would betray him to the chief priests and magistrates who hated him, because they were afraid he would convert the people and uncover their own wickedness. Christ Jesus knew that he must suffer violence at the hands of those who hated goodness so that he might prove beyond shadow of doubt, by his resurrection, that love is greater than hate—that love is always victorious, because God is Love.”
“I think this is the best really-so story of all!” said Billy.