A Tale of Two Kings
Embodying Dissent In the Way of Jesus
Sermon for Palm Sunday - by Rev. Sandra Nixon
In June last year, the current US President scheduled a military parade in Washington to coincide with both his birthday and the 250th anniversary of the US Army. That same day the first “No Kings” demonstrations took place across the US and also in many other countries, including Canada - including one here in Vancouver.
In one city, a highly public display of military power.
Which inspired public marches of resistance in cities across the world.
One parade proclaiming that might is right.
Processions all over the world proclaiming “not so fast”.
+++
For those who are aware of the historical and political context of the Palm Sunday story - the story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem - the events of last June may have felt striking.
And this year, of course, the intersection of Palm Sunday and No Kings is impossible to ignore.
Yesterday, (March 28), people gathered and marched once again (for the 3rd time) under the banner of No Kings. In the US specifically, it’s a protest against the increasingly autocratic actions of the US President and his administration’s tactics of fear, intimidation, and violence - tactics of empire - being used against other countries and against its own people.
And around the world, it’s a protest against not only the actions of the US government but also against the many forces of repression, domination, and authoritarian control that we are witnessing operating right now.
+++
One day later, we are here - one of many Christian churches gathering on Palm Sunday, retelling the story of Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem.
Palm Sunday is often softened in our retellings.
Children wave branches. Congregations sing “Hosanna.” The scene can feel quaint, even sentimental. But in its original context, it was anything but.
Jesus enters Jerusalem not quietly, not privately, but in a deliberate public demonstration.
He rides a donkey—a symbol loaded with meaning—while crowds gather, shouting political-religious slogans: “Hosanna!” (which means “Save us!”) and “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
Let’s unpack that a little bit.
+++
First, we know that Jesus arrives at the city of Jerusalem during Passover, the biggest Jewish festival of the year. Pilgrims are flooding into the city. The streets are crowded.
And then, here comes Jesus - riding on a donkey, surrounded by ordinary people—peasants, fishermen, families.
People start laying down cloaks on the road and waving palm branches, shouting words of welcome.
It feels joyful, almost like a parade.
Yet - there was more going on than just a celebratory parade for someone being heralded as a miracle worker.
There was more going on with the people, more going on in the city.
For starters, the political tension was really high at that time. Although the Roman Empire still allowed the Jewish festival of Passover to be celebrated, they were well aware that the festival was a celebration of the Israelite’s liberation from slavery in Egypt.
So, while the festival was allowed to go on, the Romans also used it as an opportunity to remind the people of who was in charge. Every year, at the start of the Passover festival, the Roman governor Pontius Pilate would put on a parade into the city - an elaborate show of pomp and military might - just in case any potential rabble rousers were inclined to get any ideas.
So each year, he’d stage a grand procession, a military parade, riding Into the city with his imperial force—ranks of soldiers, war horses, armour, banners - a show of imperial power - a reminder of who was in charge - designed to keep the peace through intimidation.
With this going on, it’s not hard to imagine that Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem, on the other side of the city, may have been a deliberate parody of Pilate’s procession, a protest done with street theatre, if you will.
The donkey itself is a a deliberate choice - highly symbolic and would have been immediately recognizable to people familiar with the Jewish scriptures for several reasons:
1. Fulfillment of a prophetic image
The action echoes a prophecy from Book of Zechariah (9:9):
“See, your king comes to you… humble and riding on a donkey.”
By riding a donkey, Jesus is enacting this prophetic vision of a king arriving in peace.
And the gospel writers specifically point to this text as they recount the story of Jesus’ procession.
2. A contrast with imperial power.
Imperial rulers always rode on war horses, as Pilate did in his procession that day.. By contrast, Jesus chooses a donkey—an animal associated with humility and everyday life, not military power.
3. A traditional symbol of peaceful kingship
In the Hebrew scriptures, donkeys were also associated with legitimate but peaceful rulers. For example, Solomon rides a mule during his royal procession in the First Book of Kings (1:33–40).
So the donkey signals royal identity, but also peaceful authority rather than military conquest.
So what we have is two processions making their way into Jerusalem at the same time - one on either side of the city.
Two different entrances.
Two visions of kingdom and power.
One - based on empire’s tactics of fear and violent suppression.
The other… based on something entirely different.
Jesus’ message was that God’s kingdom is one where power is rooted in love, compassion, justice and non-violence.
This was a direct repudiation of Rome, where the emperor claimed the title “Son of God”. And now here’s this upstart itinerant preacher who is now being called Son of God, Messiah, King of the Jews, whose protest parade was attempting to disrupt expectations of power and reimagine what leadership could be.
So, two processions happening on the same day.
A procession of power.
A counter-procession of protest.
Palm Sunday, then, is not just a heartwarming story of Jesus humbly riding in to Jerusalem on a donkey, being welcomed by hopeful crowds.
+++
People would have understood the symbolism Jesus was using.
Yet I can’t help thinking that except for those in his inner circle, or who had personal encounters with him - all the teaching about love, compassion, mercy, non-violence, loving your enemy - that wasn’t what most people were cheering that day.
It was the miracles, and the prospect that a new saviour king was being raised up. I use that term “saviour king” intentionally. The people waiting for the Messiah were waiting for rescue - and for many, it was assumed that would need to be another strong man - one who had the favour of God behind him and would vanquish the Romans and free the people.
So, this organized disruption - this “street theatre” would have been understood by everyone in the crowd that day as a protest, mocking Pilate’s elaborate procession.
However, what the crowds likely didn’t get was that Jesus’ protest parade was also a public, embodied critique not just of Rome, but of empire and the ways of empire.
For Jesus, the humble procession in on a donkey was also a declaration that God’s kingdom, God’s reign, was different - that God’s realm was one of justice, mercy, and collective flourishing—and that not only was it possible, but it was already breaking in.
+ + +
When we look at the “No Kings” protests through this lens, the resonance becomes unmistakable.
To say “No Kings” is not simply to reject a person or a political figure. It is to reject a system that concentrates power in ways that dehumanize and diminish. It is to say: we refuse to be governed by fear, by violence and repression that crushes, by narratives that tell us we are powerless.
It is, in its own way, a modern echo of “We have no king but God”—a phrase that, in the time of Jesus, carried its own complicated and subversive weight.
And the parallel deepens when we understand that Jesus doesn’t replace one king with another in the way the world expects. He reframes power altogether. His “kingship” is revealed not in domination, but in service. Not in violence and coercion, but in community and through self-giving love.
+ + +
Palm Sunday reminds us: faith has always had a public dimension. It has always involved risk. It has always meant, at times, stepping out of line. It means embodied dissent. A tradition that, for followers of Jesus, is not peripheral to faith, but central to it.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the church, historically, has preferred to remember Palm Sunday over reenacting it.
Friends, it’s time for us to re-enact it. We’ve just practiced, done a safe trial run within the safety of our worship.
When you entered the sanctuary today, you were invited to take a sign, or create your own sign. These signs serve not as partisan slogans, but as theological statements. A reminder that Christian faith resists authoritarian power and aligns with a different vision of leadership rooted in humility, justice, and love.
Now you have your sign, together we have our signs - and we have other tools and strategies available to us to advocate and “act for a kinder and more just world.” - TGUC Vision Statement
I am so unbelievably proud to serve a community that could/would organize a Palm Sunday procession today/any day.
You get that our faith has always had something to say about power.
You understand that public witness is part of our spiritual DNA as followers of Christ.
Of course we don’t always get it right. We’re not always as brave as we want to be.
We heard more stories this morning which carry the story forward beyond the parades. From turning over tables in the temple, to enduring a betrayal by a friend whose feet he had just washed, and finally to being arrested, Jesus demonstrates that self-giving love can be very costly.
It is easier to wave palms in a sanctuary than to raise a sign in the street.
Easier to sing “Hosanna” than to risk being misunderstood.
Easier to honour a past disruption than to participate in a present one.
Yet love leads us on, Jesus leads us on, asking us to trust, to hold tenaciously to the possibility and promise - that love—real love—isn’t weakness.
That because it involves connection and community, it’s actually the strongest thing in the world: more powerful - certainly more life-affirming - than coercive power.
Sometimes it can be harder to see it at work. (There’s a reason Jesus talked a lot about sowers and seeds). And sometimes - often - it’s the hardest work.
Prayer:
Holy God, as we make our way into holy week, remind us that faith has always spilled into ordinary, public spaces. May your spirit of truth encourage us to notice where love is quietly inviting us to something braver, something bolder in our witness and in our resistance - collectively and individually. We pray in the name of your love most fully incarnate, Jesus. Amen.