Today we stand on the threshold of Holy Week. The Church sets before our eyes the Lord’s approach to His Passion—not in isolation, but in the context of both a great miracle and a great betrayal. The Gospel passage for Palm Sunday is not limited to the Lord’s entry into Jerusalem; it begins in Bethany, where the scent of pure nard and the stench of impending death intermingle.
Let us think about each of the verses with attention to what the Church has always known, what the Fathers have always taught, and what Holy Scripture reveals without ambiguity.
In this homily, I will be using verses from the New Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition. Verse 1. “Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.” This is the context of everything that follows. The Lord does not go to Jerusalem directly, though it is near. He first enters Bethany. The name “Bethany” means “house of affliction” or “house of the poor.” Here we see the Lord beginning His Passion in the house of affliction, among those who had already tasted death and mourning. And not just any house, but the house of Lazarus, whom He had raised from the dead. The raising of Lazarus is not an isolated miracle; it is the final and deliberate sign of the Lord’s identity before His crucifixion. It is the spark that drives the Sanhedrin to plot His death definitively. By raising Lazarus, Christ proclaims in action what He will soon accomplish in His own body. He does not merely resuscitate; He gives life. The Lord does not reverse death momentarily, but overthrows it. The Jews could not endure such a testimony, and so Lazarus himself becomes a threat.
In the second verse, we read: “There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.” This is not a banquet of indulgence. It is a supper in honour of the Lord who conquers death. Martha, always active, serves—as is her station and gift. Lazarus reclines at table. Consider the great reversal here—the one who was in the tomb four days now shares the meal with the Author of life. It is important to note that Lazarus says nothing in this Gospel account. He does not give a speech. He does not recount a vision of the afterlife. His very presence is his witness. This is deeply Orthodox in character. Our witness is not in novelty or emotional spectacle but in the fact of the Resurrection. The quiet, enduring presence of the one raised is enough.
The third verse: “Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair.” Mary’s act is one of reckless devotion. This is not practicality. It is not restraint. It is not rational stewardship. It is love poured out, costly and public. In anointing the feet of Christ and wiping them with her hair, she expresses a love that is self-humbling and scandalous to the world. I pray we are never afraid to love Christ with such extravagance. The Church, in her worship, does not deal in utility. She deals in love. That is why we have icons, incense, chant, prostrations. Never listen to those who say we must strip the Church of her beauty in the name of the poor. That lie came from Judas.
In the fourth and fifth verses, we read: “Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples… said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’” Here is the voice of pious theft. Judas cloaks his greed in moral posturing. This is the beginning of betrayal, when false virtue becomes a weapon against Christ. How often do we hear this same voice in the modern world? Judas does not care for the poor. He is interested in control and in theft. Today we still see those who use the language of charity to gut the Church of reverence, order, obedience, and holiness. They sell false compassion and call it virtue.
We read in the seventh verse that our Lord did not excuse Judas out of politeness. He exposed him. “Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.’” Christ accepted the anointing as preparation for His burial. He knew what was to come. There is no panic in Him. The anointing is not for display, not for praise, but for death. Mary understands more than the disciples. She sees the coming darkness and acts accordingly. She is not calculating value. She is anticipating sacrifice. In the Church, we must do the same. We do not measure the value of our prayers, our liturgies, our fasts, in worldly terms. We offer them for the sake of the Lord’s burial, knowing that unless we die with Him, we cannot live with Him.
We continue in the eighth verse. “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This verse unsettles the modern mind. But Christ is not engaging in sentimentalism. He is stating reality. The poor are always among us because the world is fallen. But Christ, in the flesh, was with them only for a time. The Church must always serve the poor, but never at the expense of neglecting the presence of Christ. If your service to the poor is done while mocking or abandoning the liturgy, the sacraments, the commandments—you are no better than Judas.
In the tenth and eleventh verses we read of the spiritual madness of the chief priests. “So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many… were believing in Jesus.” They seek to kill a man who had been raised from the dead, to silence the evidence of the miracle. How great is the hardness of the heart that prefers death to repentance. Yet we see this even now—hatred of holiness, hatred of repentance, hatred of the evidence that Christ is Lord. The Church must expect this. We do not make peace with the world. It was the world that crucified our Lord.
Let us continue with verses 12 and 13. “The next day the great crowd… took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting, ‘Hosanna!’” Now comes the great moment. The Lord enters Jerusalem not in glory but in meekness. He does not ride a war horse. He sits upon a donkey’s colt. He comes as King, but not as the kings of this world. The palm branches are not for decoration. They are signs of victory, drawn from Jewish tradition, used at the Feast of Tabernacles to celebrate God’s deliverance. Yet the people do not fully understand. They shout “Hosanna,” which means “Save us now,” but most are thinking of political salvation. This is why many of them will shout “Crucify Him” within the week. They do not want a King of suffering. They want a king of victory without sacrifice. The true King enters to die.
We read a prophecy in the fifteenth verse. “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion. Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!” This is the prophecy of Zechariah fulfilled. But it is not only poetic. The donkey is a beast of burden, not of war. Christ rides the creature of service and humility. The Church likewise must move in humility and simplicity. Not in the pride of the modernist theologian or the marketing schemes of religious opportunists, but in the patient, faithful walk of the donkey.
Verse 16 says: “His disciples did not understand these things at first… then they remembered.” This is a vital lesson. The disciples did not understand at the time. Understanding came after the resurrection. So it is with us. We do not always grasp what God is doing. We do not always see the meaning of the commandments or the trials we endure. But in the light of the Resurrection, we begin to understand. Do not demand full comprehension before obedience. That is not faith.
In verses 17 through 18, “The crowd… continued to testify… because they heard that he had performed this sign.” Here we see the danger of fascination without conversion. The crowd gathers not because they understand Christ’s mission, nor because they seek repentance, but because of spectacle. They are astounded that a man four days dead was raised. They are gripped by the magnitude of the miracle. Their mouths testify, but their hearts are not yet transformed. They follow Jesus, but for what purpose? Not to deny themselves and take up their cross, but to marvel, to be entertained, perhaps even to benefit. This is not new. In John 6:26, after the feeding of the five thousand, our Lord rebukes the crowds: “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” They pursued Him for their stomachs. Here in chapter 12, they pursue Him for their curiosity. But faith that is driven by wonder alone is unstable. What do we see just a few days later? The same city that shouted “Hosanna” will soon cry out, “Away with him! Crucify him!” (John 19:15). This is what happens when belief is built on signs and not on the Cross.
Miracles in the Church are real. They are given for a purpose. They confirm the truth. They testify to the grace of God. But they are not the centre. They are never to replace the Cross. The Lord Himself warns in Matthew 12:39, “An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign, but no sign will be given… except the sign of the prophet Jonah.” The sign of Jonah is the Lord’s death and burial—three days in the tomb. That is the sign that matters. That is the sign upon which the Church stands. The Holy Church in every generation is tempted to become a theatre of signs, wonders, and emotion. Some clergy chase after visions, bleeding icons, and miraculous oil not as a means of drawing the faithful to repentance but to attract attention, to fill pews, or worse—to justify their own spiritual negligence. This is not Orthodoxy. This is vainglory in cassocks.
The saints worked miracles, yes—but always in humility, and often in secrecy. Saint Seraphim of Sarov shone with light, but he did not build his ministry on such displays. He called for repentance. Saint John of Kronstadt, who healed many, directed all attention to the Eucharist and the life of the Church. Saint Paisios of Mount Athos worked wonders, but always pointed back to the necessity of enduring pain, humbling the will, and embracing the Cross.
Let us be clear—when the Church preaches miracles without preaching repentance, when she emphasises signs without obedience, when she promotes wonders but neglects asceticism, she loses her voice and becomes no different than the crowds who came only to stare at Lazarus. Our Lord did not come to entertain. He came to suffer. He did not ride into Jerusalem to display signs, but to ascend the Cross. Any Church that refuses to follow Him up Golgotha is no Church at all. We are not saved because we saw a miracle. We are saved because the Lamb of God was slain and rose again. The Apostle Paul says, “We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” (1 Corinthians 1:23) He does not say “we proclaim visions,” or “we proclaim ecstasies.” He says Christ crucified. The true miracle is not Lazarus walking out of his tomb, but Christ walking into His tomb willingly.
And so the Church must proclaim the Cross. Always the Cross. Because only the Cross crushes pride. Only the Cross unmasks the deceit of the devil. Only the Cross opens the gate of Paradise. Anything else, even a sign from heaven, is dust if it does not lead to Golgotha and beyond it, the empty tomb. The crowd came for a miracle. Let us come for the Crucified Lord. Let us not shout Hosanna with shallow hearts. Let us stand firm with the Theotokos and Saint John at the foot of the Cross. For there, and only there, is true faith. There is salvation.
Brethren, Palm Sunday is not a celebration of quickly passing popularity. It is the beginning of the Lord’s Passion. We see the anointing for burial, the corruption of Judas, the plotting of the priests, the cries of a crowd that does not understand, and the entry of the King who will be slain. May we never follow the crowd who shouts one day and betrays the next. Let us be like Mary, who loved Him with the costly gift; like Lazarus, who witnessed silently by his very being; like the donkey, who carried the Lord with no pride.
Let us go with Him to the Cross, not in confusion but in obedience. For the Cross is the throne of the King, and the tomb is the gateway to life.
May God bless you +
Fr. Charles
Palm Sunday, 13 April 2025
