On Sunday we heard the Gospel of on the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem while seated humbly on an ass. As I reflected further on this event later that day, two things stood out.

First there is the sublime majesty of it. He could not be stopped, either by friends or foes. He set his face to go to Jerusalem, and to Jerusalem he would go, no two ways about it. His session on the beast of burden was in a way audacious, for it was a clear acknowledgment of his claim to being the Son of David, in the pattern set by Solomon’s entry on David’s mule a millennium earlier. Jesus’ enemies were already enraged by what he was saying, and now here he was, entering into their most holy space in a way that by its very nature was claiming royal David’s lineage. They complained about it—were ‘sore displeased’, as the KJV wonderfully puts it—but Jesus simply replied in the affirmative that, yes, he heard the children crying Hosanna, and he indicated that the children’s cries were according to the Psalm: “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings though hast perfected praise.” Evidently the cries of Hosanna continued not only throughout his triumphal parade but even as he entered the temple and began to heal people there. Imagine the offense! Right in the heart of what they held to be the very fortress of their religion, here was their mortal enemy, whom they had convinced themselves to be a blasphemer, surrounded by cries of Hosanna to the Son of David – that is, essentially, “God save the king!” And he was ok with all this, to the Pharisees’ great shock and dismay! Of course he was, for it was he who in the first place had not only consented to be placed on the royal donkey, but was the one who had in fact so ordered it.

The image is gripping and unmistakable: he entered not as a conquering warrior on a proud steed decked with armor and with sword in his hand, but in a majestic show of serene inevitability, as if to say, I don’t even need to raise a weapon to win. It’s going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It all bespeaks the power of God made manifest in weakness, as the Apostle says, the weakness of God is stronger than men. This is a delicious victory, because in his own humility he is utterly humiliating the evil one, defeating him without lifting a finger. We know it led to the cross itself, which is an even more stunning demonstration of this.

This grand demonstration of the unstoppable path of divine victory over evil is also applicable to all things that confront us in life, and how it is that St. Paul can make his bold claim that all things work together for good to them that love him. His perspective is rooted in Christ’s unstoppable victory and the way it was accomplished. So it is perfectly understandable that he should say Rejoice in the Lord always. It all flows out of the image presented to us in the triumphal entry of Jesus on Palm Sunday. Christ is Victor, and nothing can stop him, though he doesn’t lift a finger to win. On the contrary, he suffers and wins.

The second thing that becomes clear here is that here we also have a perfect reason and encouragement for exercising humility in our own behavior and life. The earliest Christians were said to be those of the Way, and with good reason, for as Jesus called himself the Way, so also those who allied themselves with him did so in response to his invitation, Follow me. Thus Christian life, while certainly foremost a life of faith in him, is also a life of following him in lifestyle. As he was humble, so must we learn humility, not only because we are directed to be humble, but also as an outgrowth of the very same faith that recognizes his manner of achieving his victory, without lifting a finger, humbling himself to the death of the cross. Since faith knows this first of all, therefore faith is content to have no need to get even or to get personal vengeance; faith is incongruous with pride, selfishness, insisting on one’s own way, and barging ahead with a show of right. Rather, as Jesus sat serenely on an ass in his entry, so to be of the Way is to sit with him, as it were. Just sit with him, humbly and meekly, confident that all will work out.

And every Sunday we are invited to remember this very thing, this very image, as we prepare to receive Christ in the blessed Sacrament by repeating the cry of the children, gazing as they did at our humble Victor. They saw his power and victory shrouded in his entry on an ass, and we see it too, shrouded in the simple elements we are about to receive (his very Body and Blood, hidden there under bread and wine). So we echo the very same words, crying out, God save the King! That is, Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna in the highest!