Dominica II Passionis seu in Palmis—Palm Sunday—ushers us into the mystery of Christ’s Passion with a paradox. The faithful raise olive branches in jubilation, crying “Hosanna to the Son of David!” while the liturgy simultaneously leads us into the shadow of Gethsemane, the betrayal of Judas, the silence before Pilate, the scourge, the Cross, and the tomb.
In this convergence of joy and sorrow, Philippians 2:5–11 and Matthew 26:36–27:60 form a theological and spiritual arc: from exaltation in humility to glory through the Cross. The Fathers of the Church guide us to penetrate these mysteries more deeply—not merely to remember events, but to enter them with contrite and adoring hearts.
“Let this mind be in you…” (Phil 2:5)
St. Paul invites us to contemplate the mind of Christ, which is the pattern of divine humility:
“Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant… becoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross” (Phil 2:6–8).
St. John Chrysostom marvels at this passage, noting:
“Behold how the obedience made Him not only man, but a servant, and lower than a servant… He not only became man, but was also obedient unto death, and that the most ignominious death.” (Homilies on Philippians, Homily 7)
Here, we see not merely a recounting of Christ’s humility, but a summons to imitation. As we prepare to walk with Christ through His Passion, the Apostle reminds us that true discipleship mirrors this self-emptying. The Cross is not only the means of our salvation but the model of our lives.
Gethsemane and the Silence of Love (Matt 26:36–46)
In Gethsemane, the divine heart trembles.
“My soul is sorrowful even unto death: stay you here, and watch with me” (Mt 26:38).
St. Gregory the Great, in his Moralia, sees in this moment not weakness but a demonstration of Christ’s perfect love:
“He grieved not for Himself but for us. For to assume the punishment without assuming the sorrow, is not to show pity, but to exact punishment.”
This is not a mere display of human fragility but the overflowing compassion of the God-Man who bears, in His soul, the full weight of sin’s horror. His threefold prayer—“Let this chalice pass… not My will, but Thine be done”—becomes the prayer of every soul in trial, of every Christian learning to obey in suffering.
The Passion: The King in the Form of a Servant
As we read the Passion narrative, the inversion is complete. The One whom crowds had hailed as King is now bound, beaten, spat upon.
“And they spat upon him, and took the reed, and struck his head” (Mt 27:30).
Yet as St. Ambrose teaches, this mockery is pregnant with mystery:
“He who bore the reed in His hand, ruled the scepters of the world; He who wore the crown of thorns, was King of glory. They clothed Him in a robe of scorn, but He clothed the heavens with stars.” (Exposition on Luke, 10.121)
In each humiliation, a royal dignity is hidden. The kingship of Christ is not of pomp but of suffering love. His throne is the Cross; His crown, thorns; His exaltation, His crucifixion. As Isaiah had foretold, “He shall be exalted and extolled, and shall be very high”—but only because “His visage was so marred more than any man” (Is 52:13–14).
The Silence of the Lamb (Matt 27:12–14)
Before Pilate, Christ does not defend Himself.
“He answered him to never a word” (Mt 27:14).
This silence was deeply revered by the Fathers. St. Augustine reflects:
“He was silent, because He was the Word. He, by whom all things were made, answered not, that He might fulfill the prophecy: ‘He opened not His mouth.’” (Tractate on John, 116.1)
The silence of Christ is not passive—it is eloquent. It speaks of His total surrender to the Father’s will. It reveals the divine patience that bears our sins without protest, accepting injustice to grant mercy.
Death and Burial: Love Unto the End (Matt 27:45–60)
The Passion climaxes in the cry of dereliction—“My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”—a cry that leads not to despair but to trust, ending in His final breath:
“Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit” (cf. Lk 23:46).
Origen, meditating on this abandonment, writes:
“He was forsaken for our sake, that we might not be forsaken… Through His forsakenness, He brought us near to God.” (Commentary on Matthew, Book 27)
His burial, too, is rich in meaning. The rock-hewn tomb evokes the prophecy of the Suffering Servant: “They made His grave with the wicked, and with the rich in His death” (Is 53:9). Joseph of Arimathea’s courage becomes a sign of the hidden disciples who will now emerge, drawn by the love that conquers death.
Conclusion: To Share in His Mind, to Share in His Cross
Palm Sunday is not simply the prologue to Holy Week; it is the mystery of salvation in miniature. The triumphal entry and the impending crucifixion belong together—just as exaltation and humility, kingship and suffering, divine majesty and human agony are united in the one Christ.
As St. Leo the Great preaches:
“He that displays such patience and humility in His suffering is He who will come again in His power and majesty to judge the living and the dead.” (Sermon 59, On the Passion)
So let us walk this week with eyes fixed on the Crucified, hearts steeped in His Word, and souls conformed to His mind. “Let this mind be in you…” Let it shape your thoughts, your prayers, your sorrows, and your hopes—until the Cross becomes your path to the Resurrection.
Suggested Devotional Practice for Holy Week:
- Daily meditation on the Seven Last Words of Christ
- Lectio Divina with Philippians 2:5–11
- Litany of the Passion (from the Raccolta)
- Stations of the Cross with meditations from St. Alphonsus Liguori
Let us enter this holiest of weeks not as spectators, but as disciples. As the Church sings on Palm Sunday:
“Ingrediente Domino in sanctam civitatem, puerorum Hebraeorum voces proclamantes: Hosanna in excelsis.”
“As the Lord entered the holy city, the children of the Hebrews proclaimed: Hosanna in the highest.”
May we follow Him, not only with branches and songs, but with hearts ready to bear the Cross.