The Triumphal Entry of Jesus Christ Into Jerusalem, Its Purpose and Meaning

News of Jesus Christ’s return to Bethany reached Jerusalem at once, and stirred in many the resolve to go there, the sooner to see Jesus (Jn 12:9). The rest of the sabbath day, stretched by the Pharisees to absurd extremes (Lk 13:15, 14:5), did not allow setting out on a journey at once; only the Sadducees, by the traditions of their sect, could break it with impunity; but early the next morning crowds of people filled Bethany, most of whom came to show their respect for the great Wonderworker, while some came to observe His actions (Lk 19:39), in order to report on them to the Sanhedrin. After Jesus, the chief object of curiosity was Lazarus (Jn 12:9)—both as a direct witness to Jesus’s omnipotence, and as one returned from that country from which, since the beginning of the world, all who go do not return. What did the idle curiosity of the Pharisaic and Sadducean questioners not touch upon, they who in their synagogues ceaselessly debated and disputed about the life to come—how the dead live, what feasts they have, how great Abraham’s bosom is, whether the bonds of kinship still hold force there…

The Jews who had come to Bethany did not believe that Jesus Christ would dare come to Jerusalem. All the more pleasing was it for them to learn that He intended to go there that very day. Such an intention showed that He no longer wished to hide from His followers and His enemies the purpose of His ministry, that He had resolved to declare Himself Messiah solemnly before all Jerusalem, and, consequently, was fully confident that the Sanhedrin, set against Him, was not able to withstand Him (Mk 11:10; Lk 19:36–38). All this was most welcome to the people, who had long awaited, with impatience, the moment when the Prophet who was the object of universal expectation would declare Himself Messiah. The thought of accompanying Jesus Christ on His entry into Jerusalem, of witnessing what impression His appearance would make upon the Sanhedrin, of sharing with Him the danger and the glory of these majestic moments—this thought now occupied the imagination and heart of everyone, and Jesus, from the very moment He left Bethany, was already surrounded by a crowd of eager people, ready to render Him every honor.

On reaching the place (Mk 11:1; Lk 19:29; Mt 21:1) opposite which lay Bethphage, a small village visible even from Jerusalem, on the northern slope of the Mount of Olives, the Lord stopped and called two of His disciples to Him (Peter and John). «Go — He said to them — into the village facing you; there at once you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her—untie them and bring them to Me.» And if anyone says to you, «What are you doing? Why are you untying them?» — say this to him: «The Lord needs them, and he will send them back at once» (Mt 21:2–5; Mk 11:2–3; Lk 19:29–31). Such an errand, trifling as it seemed, was not entirely usual: Jesus Christ always went on foot, and Jerusalem was not far off; yet now He had to send for a donkey, as if for some long and wearisome journey! And how strange it was to hear from Jesus’s own lips: «The Lord needs it!» (Mt 21:3). But the disciples were not for the first time astonished by their divine Teacher’s actions, and had grown accustomed to understanding their purpose only from what followed; the two sent went at once to Bethphage, found the donkey with her colt in the very place Jesus had named; those standing by did indeed ask them why they were taking the donkeys; and when they answered as they had been told, they let them go without hindrance. Such an exact correspondence between the event and the prediction would have astonished the disciples still more, had they not already grown used to the extraordinary. The Son of God was beginning to manifest His divine glory even in circumstances that seemed of little importance, because the greatest eclipse of His Godhead was soon to follow.

Jesus, meanwhile, remained in the same place from which He had sent the disciples. The number of the people surrounding Him grew hour by hour: the inhabitants of Jerusalem and the pilgrims who had come for the feast, learning that He was going to Jerusalem, went out to meet Him in great crowds (Jn 12:12–13).

The messengers returned. Out of zeal, and so that it might be easier to mount the colt, the disciples covered it with their outer garments. When the Teacher had taken His seat, the interrupted procession moved on again, at the slow pace natural to this manner of riding. Now the great Prophet no longer hid Himself in the crowd of people; He was visible to all, and the procession, for all its simplicity, presented something solemn and sacred, the more so because in ancient times animals that had not borne a yoke were chosen for sacred rites (Deut 21:3; 1Sam 6:7)94; in particular, the donkey had from ancient times, in the East, served as a symbol of peace, and never took part in war or in battle95. And so a single glance at Jesus Christ now suddenly brought to the attentive mind the words of the prophet Zechariah, who, describing the kingdom of the Messiah, says: «Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion: behold, your king is coming to you… humble… riding on a donkey’s colt» (Zech 9:9)96. Such an accord between the Lord and the people’s desire to see Him king as soon as possible only further animated those accompanying Him, and gave them the boldness to express before Him the full measure of their zeal in the most solemn manner. In a burst of rapture, some began to cut palm branches and, waving them in the air, threw them onto the road before Jesus; others took off their own garments and spread them beneath the colt’s hooves97. Each strove to outdo the other in zeal. In much the same way Alexander the Great, the dread conqueror of the world, had once been received in Jerusalem98; almost so, too, had King Agrippa once been greeted99—so now they wished to honor Him who was the embodiment of every hope for suffering Israel.

The palm branches called to mind the Feast of Tabernacles, and with it the well-known psalm of David100, which was sung throughout that feast. How strikingly the content of this prophetic psalm was fulfilled in the present event! Jesus Christ, coming to Jerusalem yet rejected by the Sanhedrin, plainly prefigured that «stone which the builders rejected», which, by David’s word, was to become the chief cornerstone and be marvelous in the eyes of all the Jewish people (Ps 117:22–23). This very day, they thought, would show it. Indeed, «the Lord Himself has made» this day, that we should «rejoice and be glad in it» (Ps 117:24). Amid such thoughts, the beloved psalm, which everyone knew by heart, passed imperceptibly from mouth to mouth—especially those verses of it that so directly expressed the present event. From every side the words of the psalm began to ring out: «Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!» (Mt 21:9; Ps 117:26)101.

The general rapture grew stronger still as they approached the last height, from which they now had to descend all the way down to Jerusalem itself (Lk 19:37). This was one of the finest vantage points in the surrounding country—Jerusalem lay visible as in a picture102: on the right, above a fearsome chasm, rose the Temple of Jerusalem, and, amid its many marble columns of dazzling whiteness, seemed like an artificial mass of ice, with a golden dome from which the rays of the midday sun were reflected, as Josephus observes, in countless flashes. Its outward splendor vividly recalled the happy days of David and Solomon, but it was already surrounded by the abomination of desolation soon to stand in the holy place. The fortress of Antonia, adorned with Roman eagles, with its huge tower dominating the height of the Temple, seemed to underscore the humiliation in which the people of God now stood. Here, too, Pilate’s praetorium came into view; but the palaces of the chief priests seemed set apart, separated from the Temple by ravines103, as if in token of their inhabitants’ inward estrangement from the God of their fathers. The remains of the palaces of David and Solomon were now scarcely discernible amid the multitude of new buildings. Against the background of these sights, each of which recalled both the ancient glory and the present shame of the fatherland, the eyes of all turned involuntarily to Jesus, who plainly bore with Him, to Jerusalem, its former holy majesty. The hope of the Messiah’s glorious kingdom seemed ready, it appeared, to come true. «So,—people thought—He will reconcile us to God, angered by our wrongdoing! (Lk 19:38) He will restore the kingdom of our father David! (Mk 11:10). Under His shadow we shall again enjoy peace, and no longer be slaves of the Gentiles!» And the fullness of their patriotic feeling again poured out in shouts; branches, flowers, and garments rained down from every side; and louder and more often rang out the cry «Hosanna».

The Lord did not hinder this sincere and joyful outpouring of feeling, which sprang from an ardent, if somewhat fanciful, love for Him and for their fatherland, and He reckoned it not merely the result of an ordinary concurrence of circumstances, but of the secret dispositions of Providence itself, long foretold by the prophets, which so drew the attention of Jerusalem and of the whole people to the Messiah who had come. Thinking thus, He could not but take a deep and heartfelt part in what was happening around Him.

But to the Pharisees (some of whom had also come out to meet Jesus, for their usual observations) such a spectacle of popular love was unbearable. The feeling of patriotism, so strongly expressed in the people’s present conduct, kept them from condemning it openly. Perhaps the Pharisees themselves did not wish to display publicly their ill will toward Jesus, who, judging by what was happening, might, as they thought, easily become their ruler. And so the hypocrites put on an appearance that might have seemed impartial, even friendly, to one who did not know their true feelings toward Jesus. «Teacher,—some of them remarked—perhaps it would be worth stopping and restraining Your disciples?» That is, the cunning hypocrites seemed to wish to warn Jesus that such shouts from the people, calling Him the Son of David, might be dangerous both for Him and for those around Him, from the Roman government’s point of view (Lk 19:39–40).

The Knower of Hearts knew from what heart this pretended warning came; but now was not the time to expose the hypocrites. They themselves would not have reasoned as they did, had they seen, as He did, the full weight of the present events, and their direct correspondence to the eternal decrees of Providence. «If these were silent — He answered — the very stones would cry out!» (Lk 19:40). That is, so it is ordained from above.

But this great and holy mystery of Providence, now being accomplished over Jesus Christ, was infinitely beyond the understanding of the blind Jewish scribes; and the Pharisees, from Jesus’s answer, were more inclined to conclude that He, as a descendant of David, had firmly resolved to claim the throne of David, and that for this reason He openly allowed both Himself and the people what, at any other time, would have been a dangerous imprudence.

The people, amid the universal singing and shouting, probably did not hear the answer given to the Pharisees. If the Lord did not wish to stop the people’s rapture, neither was He inclined to encourage it with His own words. Notwithstanding His favorable response to the tokens of popular joy, His own feelings now were very different from the joyful feelings that animated the people. The Son of Man clearly saw that the present solemn «Hosanna!» would soon be replaced by the frenzied cry «Crucify Him, crucify Him!» This foreknowledge alone was enough to banish every joy from His heart. But it was not His own fate that occupied Him now: He was thinking of the unhappy destiny of His fatherland. How dark and terrible it was in the future! The Jewish people would reject Him, and with Him would lose the favor of heaven; this present day, which should have marked the beginning of prosperity for His countrymen, would become the beginning of terrible calamities for all Israel. How many reasons for sorrow had He who had come to earth to gather the whole human race into one blessed flock, conscious that upon Him lay, along with this, the particular duty of caring for the good of the «perishing sheep of the house of Israel»! (Mt 15:24.)

At the last descent of the hill, where the road passes by Gethsemane, Jesus stopped (Lk 19:41). Upon His divine face, until then serene, a deep sorrow now showed itself. (Those around Him could notice this, and, waiting to see what would come of it, fell silent for a time.) The Lord gazed in silence at Jerusalem, as though searching in it for some sign of spiritual life; the tears that appeared announced that the search had been in vain: «Oh,—He cried out at last, from the fullness of His feeling—if only you, even on this your day, had understood what makes for your peace! But this too, even now (as before), is hidden from your eyes (yours alone)!» «The days will come upon you (I see them: they are not far off) when your enemies will throw up a rampart around you, and surround you, and hem you in on every side, and level you and your children within you to the ground, and will not leave one stone upon another in you, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation» (Lk 19:43–44)104.

The flowing tears showed with what depth of feeling these words were spoken. Ah, He who spoke, He who wept thus over Jerusalem, was not, as the Pharisees slandered, a deceiver of the people; He did not wish calamity upon His fatherland!

The procession went on. On entering the city Jesus was surrounded by a still greater crowd, so that, when He entered Jerusalem, in St Matthew’s phrase, «the whole city was stirred» (Mt 21:10). Everyone wished to know who this was, coming with such solemnity. All the more so, since the people accompanying the Lord joyfully called out in answer that it was Jesus, the great Prophet of Nazareth!

The procession made straight for the Temple, which had always served as the sole and natural haven for the Son of God. So, indeed, did all travelers, on coming for the feast, wishing above all to appear, so to speak, before the face of the God of their fathers. Entering the Temple105, the Lord surveyed it (Mk 11:11; περιβλεψάμενος πάντα). One might have thought that He, as Lord of the Temple, had fully entered into His own rights, and intended to demand an account from those to whom the Temple had been entrusted in His absence. And to an ordinary zealot for piety, still more to the Son of God, the many violations of the proper order of the Jerusalem Temple were plain to see, and called for correction; but this was put off until the next day, as if so as not to disturb the solemnity of the present one. To the new Visitor and Master of the Temple there at once gathered, as His lesser brethren, the lame, the blind, and the sick, who were always to be found at the Temple; healing was given to all of them (Mt 21:14). Such an abundance of wonders was bound to increase the general joy still further: the solemn «Hosanna!» rang out even within the Temple itself. Especially moving was the sight of the little children, who, imitating their elders, repeated: «Hosanna to the Son of David!» The psalm from which these words are taken they knew by heart, since at the Feast of Tabernacles it was sung by whole families. Amid the general rapture it seemed to them that, together with the Passover, this feast too had now come round—a feast whose rites held so much that was symbolic and engaging, especially for children. Jesus Christ always looked with favor on children106, in whom human nature shows itself in a simplicity and openness dear to a good heart. But to the chief priests and scribes the children’s shouts in honor of the God-man seemed a pitiful triumph, fitting only for a man who, by His own words, had nowhere to lay His head. «Do you hear,—some of them remarked with indignation—what they are saying? What honor they are paying You?» «And you,—the Lord answered—have you never read in Scripture: «Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies You have brought forth praise?»» (Mt 21:16).

These words contained both the best answer and an open rebuke to the scribes, for in the psalm they are followed by: «because of Your enemies, to silence the enemy and the avenger» (Ps 8:3). For who was more at enmity with Jesus than the chief priests and scribes?

In this psalm David describes the majesty of God, so evident that even nursing infants feel it and glorify God. Jesus Christ, applying David’s words to the present instance, said, as it were, to the scribes: instead of being perplexed and mocking the children, you ought rather to be ashamed before their artless shouts: these little ones, acknowledging Me, in their childlike simplicity, as the Messiah, instruct you, the elders, by their example!

His enemies and adversaries fell silent—and the Lord remained unhindered in the Temple until the end of the day, instructing the people, no doubt, with edifying discourses. As evening came on, He left not only the Temple but the city, and, accompanied by His twelve disciples, withdrew back to Bethany. There, among friends, He could rest after a day that was, for Jerusalem and for Himself alike, unique and extraordinary.

For Jesus’s disciples this day passed like a pleasant dream. The lofty purpose of their Teacher’s momentous actions was not, by the admission of one of them, understood by them (Jn 12:16). Finding in the events of this day so many things that coincided with their own opinion of their Teacher’s imminent enthronement over Israel, they could not but think that, having declared Himself Messiah, He would now act more decisively, and that thus their ardent wish would soon be fulfilled—namely, His visible enthronement over Israel!

An evening in Bethany after such a day could not pass in silence. In the circle of His disciples and friends, the Lord no doubt explained the momentous events of the day just past—at least so far as was needed to banish the false notion that His triumphal entry into Jerusalem had some worldly purpose.

How pleasant, no doubt, it would have been for the God-man now, at the close of His great course, to unfold before His disciples all His other divine designs as well, to bring them, so to speak, into the very midst of the great judgments of God that were soon to be accomplished in His own person! Lofty souls always feel weighed down and grieved when they cannot convey to others all the beauty and greatness ripening within them. And what could be more majestic and holy than the resolve to offer Himself in sacrifice for the salvation of the world, which now governed every action of the God-man? And when was a friend’s sympathy more needed than now, when, in keeping with the lofty purpose of redeeming mankind, out of love for truth and virtue, He had to go to the cross? But Jesus’s disciples and friends were not yet able to rise to that height from which the Son of Man beheld His own destiny—to be the Savior of the human race. And so, for all His wish to share His feelings with them, He had to conceal in His heart, until the very cross, the greater part of those lofty truths that were the foundation of His great work. Only the Heavenly Father beheld the beloved Son in the full beauty of His moral perfections; only the hosts of heavenly spirits (Jn 1:51) could contemplate the great purpose for which the Son of Man labored—the loftiness and purity of the means He employed, and that obedience and self-denial by which He, though existing in the form of God, was pleased to humble Himself even to death on a cross.

In the stillness of the night, in prayer before the Father, no doubt still more tears were shed over the unhappy fate of the Jewish people than were seen upon the God-man’s face at His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.

The entry into Jerusalem threw Jesus’s enemies into still greater confusion than the raising of Lazarus had done. He whom the supreme Sanhedrin had condemned to death, whose whereabouts every man was bound, under pain of severe punishment, to report to the authorities—He Himself, before the very face of the Sanhedrin, had solemnly entered Jerusalem, spent half the day in the Temple, was honored as the Messiah, and withdrew as a victor! The occasion showed what moral courage can do, and how much, against cunning and malice. The Son of David had not a single servant to fight for Him (Jn 18:36); legions of angels, ever ready to come to the aid of the Son of God (Mt 26:53), remained silent onlookers of His procession; truth and righteousness fought on His side; and yet the whole Sanhedrin proved powerless against Him—and confessed itself defeated!

Malice was struck dumb, but not dead. Jesus’s success was blamed on their own inaction. «Do you see — the Pharisees said to the elders — that you are accomplishing nothing by your own indecision? The whole world has gone after him!» (Jn 12:19). And so it was resolved to act without further delay, but, as before, in secret, since the general goodwill toward Jesus Christ did not allow force to be used openly. No small part of their hatred fell on Lazarus too, whose raising had been the chief reason the people had met Jesus with such rejoicing; it was resolved to take from him, once more, the life so wondrously granted him a second time! (Jn 12:10.)

Such terrible measures, resolved on by the leaders of the Sanhedrin as a result of Jesus Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, require a further examination of this event in its true significance.

Surveying Jesus Christ’s ministry, recalling His conduct up to this moment: how carefully He had avoided occasions where the people’s zeal might lead to rash actions on His behalf; how often He had forbidden His own followers and disciples to declare publicly that He was the long-awaited King of Israel; how, finally, He had constantly refused every earthly honor, giving no grounds to think that He laid claim to the throne of His fathers according to the flesh—recalling, I say, all this, and looking at Jesus Christ throughout the present day, one might conclude that He had suddenly changed His whole manner of acting, and now intended, in accordance with universal expectation, actually to show Himself the visible king of Israel and restore the throne of David, even if not in the fleshly sense many of the Jews imagined. And yet the divine Teacher of truth remained unchanged, and His triumphal entry into Jerusalem was carried out in the full certainty (Mt 20:17–19; Mk 10:32–34; Lk 18:31–34; Jn 11:7–16) that within a few days, in this very Jerusalem, He would be condemned to death, handed over to the Gentiles, and nailed to a cross as the greatest of criminals. What purpose, then, did so extraordinary an act serve? Why did the God-man allow Himself, on the very eve of His suffering and death, to be paid a kind of royal honor from which He had constantly shrunk throughout His ministry? Might not such condescension to the people’s patriotic rapture, wishing to see in Him the restorer of David’s throne, have kept alive in the people that very dream of an earthly kingdom for the Messiah which He had so zealously labored to root out? Was not His enemies themselves given, by this, a plausible pretext to accuse Him of some earthly design? — These questions, which occupied even St Chrysostom, must necessarily hold our attention, for Jesus Christ’s entry into Jerusalem has more than once been subjected to the perverse interpretations of Christianity’s enemies107.

The evangelists Matthew and John, in recounting the entry into Jerusalem, note (Mt 21:4–5; Jn 12:14–15) that in this event the prophet’s prediction was fulfilled. And so, to the questions posed above, one could answer (as indeed some have answered)108 that the Savior, who had already been pleased to tell His Forerunner that He must «fulfill all righteousness» (Mt 3:15), and who, after His Resurrection, declared to His disciples (Lk 24:25–27) that everything written of Him by Moses and the prophets had to be fulfilled in Him, wished also to fulfill the prophecy concerning His entry into Jerusalem, and to do so literally, so that those Jews who knew and understood109 this prophecy (and such there were) should have no right to say that it had not been fulfilled. But such an answer would settle the matter only by half, because the evangelists’ expressions — «that what was spoken by the prophet might be fulfilled, that the Scripture might be fulfilled» (Mt 21:4, Mk 14:49 and so forth)—do not indicate the cause of the event, but point to the prophecy of the event; and, in general, the Messiah did this or that not because the prophets had represented Him as acting in one way or another, but rather the prophets foretold His various acts because He was to perform them for definite reasons. Hence the full answer to the question of the purpose of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem must be sought not in the prediction, which itself depended on the event, but in the substance and circumstances of the event itself.

And indeed, in attending to Jesus Christ’s ministry, and especially to His relation to the Jewish people, it is not hard to notice that an event such as the triumphal entry into Jerusalem was necessary, and necessary precisely before His sufferings.

Jesus Christ came to earth as the Savior of the whole human race, but He came as the Messiah promised beforehand to the Jewish people, and appeared to the world in their midst. As the Messiah promised to Israel, He was announced to the Most Holy Virgin Mary (Lk 1:32–33) at His very conception, and at His birth to the shepherds of Bethlehem (Lk 2:10–12); as the Messiah promised to Israel, He was pointed out to John the Baptist (Jn 1:33), and by John to the people (Jn 1:36); as the Messiah promised to Israel, He taught, worked wonders, rebuked, and prophesied. Whoever among the Jews attended carefully to Jesus Christ’s teaching and His deeds, and judged impartially, could long since have acknowledged Him in his own heart as the Messiah, even without hearing a solemn proclamation of His dignity. But the greater part of the people required that He Himself should openly declare Himself before the nation to be the Messiah foretold by the prophets: among the people the opinion even prevailed that the Messiah would reveal Himself, though suddenly (Jn 7:27), yet so solemnly that all Jews, in every corner of the world, would learn of His coming. In this expectation there was, of course, much fancy, but there was also something just, grounded in the predictions of the prophets and in the very nature of the case; for the appearance of so great and extraordinary a person as the Messiah had, of necessity, to become universally known.

But this had not yet happened. Jesus Christ not only did not call Himself directly the Messiah, but often even forbade His own disciples to call Him so before the people (Mt 12:16, 16:20; Mk 1:34, 44–45, 3:12, 5:43, 7:24; Lk 4:41, 5:14 and so forth), acting in this according to the plan of His divine wisdom. And so some, with real or feigned zeal, said to Him loudly: «How long will you keep our souls in suspense?» (how long will You keep us in doubt?) «If You are the Christ, tell us plainly» (tell us directly) (Jn 10:24). To remove every doubt, the Son of Man had to appear before the daughter of Zion in the full guise of the meek King, so that she, in rejecting her Bridegroom in Him, could not say she had rejected Him out of ignorance. This, then, was the chief purpose of the present triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem110. Jesus Christ is their true Messiah. Undeniable proof of this is found in His own words, spoken before the gates of Jerusalem: «Oh, if only you had understood, even on this your day, what makes for your peace!» The expression «this your day» (Lk 19:42) shows the extraordinary weight of the present event for the Jewish people, a weight we have just made sense of. Indeed, this day—with the rejection of the Messiah—decided the fate of the people of Israel forever. In such a case, truly, had the disciples fallen silent, the very stones would have spoken! So weighty and irrecoverable was the time!

It is not hard to understand why such a public proclamation—that Jesus Christ is the Messiah—had to be made no earlier than just before the end of His ministry111. The direct consequence of it would have been the Sanhedrin’s refusal to accept Jesus Christ as the Messiah, decisive persecution, and His death; but that death would have been untimely, because a firm foundation had not yet been laid for the Kingdom of God on earth, for whose establishment the Son of God had appeared. On the other hand, had Jesus Christ, having declared Himself Messiah, and therefore, in the people’s understanding, king of Israel, remained on earth any longer, the Jewish people would probably not have restrained itself from restless movements, and would have risen up against the Romans in the name of the Messiah who had come. In the present case, the brevity of the time remaining before Jesus Christ’s sufferings did not allow the people’s fanciful hopes to reach such an extreme, and His cross decisively put an end, among His followers, to designs of that kind.

Apart from this, one cannot fail to note that for the entry into Jerusalem there was chosen, and no doubt not without particular purpose, that very day (the tenth of March) on which every family chose the lamb that served as the «Passover.» To one who saw in the Passover lamb not only a memorial of God’s past benefaction, shown to the ancestors of the Jews in Egypt, but also a symbol of the sins of the whole world (and such people there were (Jn 1:3, 6))—for such a one this coincidence of timing had to be most instructive. Indeed, after His entry into Jerusalem, throughout all the remaining days until His death, Jesus Christ remained among the people already as nothing but a victim, plainly destined for slaughter: these days were spent, both by Him and by His enemies, in preparation precisely for His death.

As for the very manner of the entry into Jerusalem, and its details, everything in this respect plainly corresponded to the ancient prophecy, and did so with the greatest wisdom (Zech 9:9). Notwithstanding the unavoidable solemnity, everything was arranged so that the fulfillment of the prophecy should not become food for the people’s fancies of an earthly kingdom for the Messiah. Among Jesus Christ’s admirers there were no few people of importance and wealth, who at a single word from Him could have furnished Him with everything needed to appear before the daughter of Zion in the majesty of the King of Israel. But He does not do this: He appears to all Jerusalem with His usual simplicity, humility, even poverty; they call Him king of Israel, they sing «Hosanna» before Him, they scatter branches and spread garments before Him—honors expressing the greatest love, sincerity, and strength of zeal… But where is the triumphal chariot? Where are the armed attendants? Where the royal ornaments? — All of this is replaced by twelve disciples, as poor as their Teacher, and by a donkey and her colt, borrowed for the occasion from others!.. The very least of property-owners never appeared in such simplicity and poverty as Jesus now did! All that adorned His entry consisted in the unfeigned joy and zeal of the people and of His disciples, so that an attentive person could already now see the holy truth later spoken before Pilate, that the kingdom of Jesus Christ is not of this world112.

And so, following the Fathers of the Church, one may say of this triumphal entry that its purpose was also the intention, animating all Jesus’s acts, to destroy in the minds of His countrymen the dream of an earthly kingdom for the Messiah. In fact, this dream rested chiefly on the prophecies in which the Messiah is described as a king. Jesus Christ now publicly showed how one could be the King-Messiah described by the prophets, and at the same time be wholly a stranger to earthly dominion. After this there is no place for that false notion, which later spread among the Jews, that the prophecies concerning the Messiah, by their sharp contradiction, could be reconciled only by supposing the existence of two Messiahs: one mighty, a king, the Son of David; the other inglorious, suffering, and dying, of the tribe of Ephraim. Jesus Christ, with His moral and spiritual majesty, with His suffering and death, united in Himself, in this instance, what in the prophets’ predictions concerning the Messiah had seemed earthly, particular, and local—a sensible appearance before the whole people of Israel in the guise of a king riding on a small donkey, and the receiving from Jerusalem of public honors as the Son of David.

If, let us note further, there had been anything in Jesus Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem contrary to the civil order then existing, anything unfavorable to the government, would it have been possible for the Roman guard—always strict, and doubling its vigilance especially during the feasts—to pay no attention whatever to this entry? Yet no attention was paid to it. Could it be possible that this event remained entirely unknown to the Jewish governor, a suspicious and most severe man, who, to secure Roman power, did not hesitate to resort to fire and sword at the slightest suspicion (Lk 13:1)113? But Pilate, as far as anything shows, knew nothing of it, or attached no importance to it. Is it not plain, then, that in the judgment of the Roman guard and authorities themselves—a testimony stronger than which one could not wish—Jesus Christ’s entry into Jerusalem not only contained nothing contrary to Roman power and Caesar’s interests, but did not even disturb the ordinary course of things?

Let us turn, finally, to Jesus’s own enemies: who could have slandered Him more fiercely than they? And who was more ready to destroy Him by any means? And yet, for all their malice, they did not dare to lay His entry into Jerusalem against Him as a charge, either in the Sanhedrin or before Pilate: so pure, so innocent, so holy was this deed.