Turmoil - Palm Sunday
Author: Pastor Scott Schul
March 29, 2026
Let’s begin our contemplation of the
very first Palm Sunday the way a feature film might, with a wide-angle view,
high in the sky, showing the entirety of Jerusalem. From that perspective, we see a city teeming
with people. They’ve gathered there from
across the region and around the world, because it’s the annual commemoration
of the Passover, and there was no holier or more special place to do that than
the city where the Temple was located, the very dwelling place of God.
From our bird’s eye vantage point
high above the city, we see the streets clogged with pilgrims. Some seek food and drink. Others look for lodging. The locals there in Jerusalem are like State
College residents on a football game day: simultaneously annoyed at the
congestion, and yet grateful that the crowd is bringing an infusion of money,
business, and energy into the city.
But as we study the scene, it’s not
just pilgrims that catch our eye. On one
side of city, we see a column of soldiers. These are battle-hardened legionaries. The sun reflects off their swords, spears, and armor. At the front of the column is an officer,
barking orders as he sits proudly atop a powerful warhorse. They are here to keep the peace. And they will enforce that peace at
the end of a blade if necessary. The
Jews were welcome to have their religious festivals and gatherings so long as
it didn’t inconvenience the Empire. These soldiers are there to ensure no one creates trouble. If blood must be shed, so be it.
Now, look to the other side of the
city. There’s a column there too. It looks very different from the first one. There are no soldiers in this column, and no
shimmering armor or weapons either. Just
a ragtag collection of fishermen, farmers, peasants, and ordinary people. At the head of that column is a man
who sits silently and humbly on a donkey. He has come to Jerusalem because he knows the Empire’s peace is a counterfeit peace, a worldly peace that’s no real peace at
all. Spiritual peace, heavenly peace,
cosmic peace, God’s peace: that’s his objective. He knows securing that objective will require his blood to be shed. So be it.
“Hosanna! Hosanna!” That’s what the adoring crowd shouts to Jesus. In Hebrew it means “Save us.” But to the ears of the Roman soldiers, it
means something quite different. It’s a
cry of disloyalty. It’s a shout of
rebellion. It’s a signal that trouble is
coming to town.
So with all this in mind, it’s no
surprise that verse 10 of our Gospel states that, “when Jesus entered
Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil.” Let’s focus on that one word, turmoil, because it reveals much
about that first Palm Sunday. The
word “turmoil” provides insight about how we may be feeling on this Palm
Sunday as well.
First, let’s get a sense of the
word’s scope and meaning. The underlying
Greek word translated in our Gospel as “turmoil” is a state of extreme mental
or spiritual anxiety and apprehension. It’s something that shakes or stirs you up; causes you to quake;
agitates, disturbs, or incites you; or causes an uproar. Our Gospel isn’t describing something mild or
barely noticeable. This is major upheaval,
the kind of thing that tenses up your muscles, twists your stomach in a knot,
puts you on edge, hoists all your red flags, and places you on high alert. This was the mood in Jerusalem as Jesus
entered the city that very first Palm Sunday.
Those who celebrated Jesus’s
arrival, who praised him and thanked God for him, did so because they saw Jesus
as the cure for that turmoil. He
was the long-promised Messiah, the Christ, the fulfillment of prophecy. But why did that matter? Well, for the faithful among the crowd, it
meant that Jesus was the Prince of Peace who would save them by fulfilling all
of God’s promises. But others who
praised Jesus that day saw him as a different kind of savior, a potential
military leader who would raise an army and evict their Roman overseers.
The religious elites at the Temple
and the Empire’s officials saw Jesus through very different eyes. To them, Jesus and his followers were unpredictable. Volatile. Dangerous. Jesus and his movement
brought the potential of disorder, chaos, violence, and the spark of a wildfire
that might spread from Jerusalem, across Judea, and throughout the Roman
Empire. Jesus was a threat, a risk who
represented economic instability, military vulnerability, and religious anarchy. To the religious leaders and Roman soldiers
in Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday, Jesus wasn’t the cure for the
turmoil; he was the cause of it. He
must be neutralized.
2,000 years later, not much has
changed. Even today, wherever you find
Jesus, you usually find turmoil too. But
is he the cure for that turmoil, or the cause of it? Well, that depends entirely on your perspective. Truth be told, usually he’s both the cure and the cause.
You see, we all have turmoil in our
daily lives. It comes in two broad forms. The first is “worldly turmoil.” That’s the turmoil we experience as we read
the news and see our world spinning out of control in a toxic stew of war,
violence, and conflict. It plays out
nation-against-nation, but also on a much more intimate level, neighbor-against-neighbor. We also experience worldly turmoil when we’re
in a personal crisis, like a bad health diagnosis, the loss of a job, or the
death of a loved one. In those disasters
played out on the world stage, in our neighborhoods, and in the intimacy of our
own homes, turmoil rages, and the only way to gain peace is through the
presence of Jesus, just like in that famous story where he was in the storm-ravaged
boat. Jesus and Jesus alone is the cure
for worldly turmoil.
But there’s also something we’ll
call “holy turmoil.” And indeed Jesus is usually the cause of that. Holy
turmoil is that feeling of restlessness when you’ve gotten too comfortable in
your life or your faith. It’s when your
conscience nags at you. That’s all Jesus,
stirring things up in our hearts and lives to shake us from our lethargy, our
timid caution, or our complacent idolatry of comfort, because he has a calling
for our lives that will offer us purpose, meaning, and joy far beyond anything
we’ve known, and far beyond what we can imagine. Why do you think I switched careers and went
to seminary? Blame holy turmoil. It’s all Jesus’s fault.
And so friends, here on Palm Sunday
2026, we find ourselves in a place surprisingly similar to that first Palm Sunday. Surrounded in turmoil. And right in the middle of it, there’s
Jesus. As we enter this final week of
Lent, I pray that amidst all your “worldly turmoil,” you will be able to see
Jesus there beside you, and his presence will bring you peace, relief, and
security. You are not alone. You are loved.
I also pray that throughout this
Lent you’ve experienced some “holy turmoil.” I hope Jesus is pestering you… nagging you. Your restless heart, that aching to go deeper
in your faith, that tension you feel in your spirit to be a follower of Christ
in action and not just in name: that’s all Jesus, stirring your
spiritual pot, agitating you to help you reach a new spiritual level. I encourage you to welcome that “holy turmoil,”
because it also assures you that you are not alone. You are loved.
And so in all our turmoil, both worldly and holy, we pray to Jesus as they did in Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday. Hosanna. Save us. Amen.
© 2026 Rev. Scott E. Schul, all rights reserved
Gospel:
Matthew 21:1-11
1 When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at
the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to
them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey
tied and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If
anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will
send them immediately.” 4 This took place to fulfill what had
been spoken through the prophet:
5 “Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”
6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they
brought the donkey and the colt and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on
them. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and
others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The
crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,
“Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
10 When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking,
“Who is this?” 11 The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet
Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
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