Palm Sunday: Welcoming the King into Our Hearts

Palm Sunday marks the beginning of the most sacred and solemn week of the entire liturgical year—Holy Week. It is the great threshold we cross before stepping into the mysteries of Christ’s Passion, death, and Resurrection. This Sunday is both triumphant and tragic, joyful and sorrowful, exalting and humbling. It is the paradox of our faith laid bare before our eyes.

But why do we celebrate Palm Sunday? Why do we wave palms, sing Hosanna, and then moments later, hear the account of the Crucifixion? What does it mean for us, here and now, trying to live out our Catholic faith?

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion: The Beginning of Holy Week

While we commonly refer to it as “Palm Sunday,” the full and proper liturgical name is “Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion.” This is no small detail—the title itself reveals the deep spiritual mystery we enter into. Yes, we recall the waving of palms and the joyful cries of Hosanna!, but above all, we are drawn into the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is at the heart of the day’s liturgy.

This solemn Sunday also marks the beginning of Holy Week, the most sacred and profound week of the Church year. From Palm Sunday through to the Easter Vigil, the Church invites us to slow down, to accompany Jesus day by day, and to contemplate the greatest act of love the world has ever known.

This is not just another week. This is sacred time.

Saint Leo the Great, one of the great Doctors of the Church, wrote:

“No one is so weak that he cannot fast with Christ; no one so lowly that he cannot humble himself with Christ; no one so sinful that he cannot be redeemed by Christ.”

Holy Week is not reserved for the holy. It is not only for those who have prayed or fasted perfectly during Lent. It is for all of us—the weak, the tired, the distracted, the repentant. This is the week to come home. This is the week to draw near to the wounded Heart of Jesus.

We begin this week with palm branches, but we end it at an empty tomb. The journey is one of descent before exaltation. We must descend with Christ into suffering, into silence, into death—so that we may rise with Him into life, into joy, into Resurrection.

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion opens the door to all of this. It calls us to walk with Christ, not as distant observers, but as faithful disciples. It sets the tone for what is to come and beckons us into deeper intimacy with our Saviour.

So let us take this week seriously. Let us walk through it with prayer, with reverence, and with open hearts. If you’ve struggled through Lent—if your sacrifices have faltered, if your resolutions have slipped—do not be discouraged. Now is the time. Now is the hour. Let Palm Sunday mark your return, your renewal, your commitment to follow the King—not just in triumph, but all the way to Calvary.

Why Are There Two Gospels on Palm Sunday?

Palm Sunday stands out liturgically because it features not one, but two Gospel proclamations during the same Mass. This may seem unusual at first, but it’s a powerful and deliberate design of the Church. The first Gospel is proclaimed outside the church (or at the entrance) and recounts Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem (Luke 19:28–40). Then, after the procession with palms, the second Gospel—a lengthy and solemn proclamation of the Passion of the Lord (Luke 22:14–23:56)—is read during the Liturgy of the Word inside the church.

So why two?

Because Palm Sunday is a day of paradox. The Church invites us to experience both the joyful acclamation of Jesus as King and the sorrowful reality of His suffering and death. In the space of one liturgy, we move from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify Him!”—and that tension is not meant to confuse us, but to convert us.

By walking in procession with palms, we unite ourselves with the crowd who recognised Jesus as the promised Messiah. But when we hear the Passion narrative, we are also placed in the midst of His rejection, betrayal, and crucifixion. It is a spiritual journey—a kind of mini Holy Week wrapped into one Holy Mass.

This liturgical structure mirrors the reality of discipleship. Saint Bernard of Clairvaux described it beautifully: “The one who welcomes Christ as King must also be ready to follow Him as a servant, even unto death.” The crowd’s joy on the Mount of Olives quickly becomes a crowd’s rage at Calvary. The two Gospels are a mirror to our own hearts—how often do we also cheer Him one moment and forget Him the next?

Saint Augustine observed that Christ’s entry into Jerusalem was both a fulfilment of prophecy and a foretaste of His Passion. “He who is gentle and riding on a donkey is also the one who will soon be lifted up on a cross.” The King we welcome is not like worldly kings. His crown is one of thorns. His throne is the Cross.

The dual Gospel readings serve to shake us out of routine. They remind us that Christianity is not triumphalism—it is costly love. To follow Christ is not merely to cheer Him on when He enters the city, but to walk beside Him when He is carrying the Cross.

And so, this liturgy challenges us to examine our own hearts:

• Do we follow Jesus only when it is convenient or popular?

• Do we remain with Him when the road gets narrow and painful?

• How often do we also cheer one moment and forget Him the next?

  
  

By hearing both readings side by side, we are invited to walk with Christ fully: not just in glory, but in agony. The triumph and the Passion are both part of the same journey—the journey of love that leads to the Cross. The two Gospel readings are not just stories. They are a mirror. They ask us: Where do you stand? Will you follow Him all the way to the Cross?

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