A Sermon for Palm Sunday
Mark 11:1-11
Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem
“When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.”’ They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
‘Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!Hosanna in the highest heaven!’
Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.”
Nothing in this story is what it first appears. The poor rabbi from the countryside, the young colt/donkey, the cloaks, the branches: all are transformed and transfigured before our very eyes. The poor rabbi, Jesus, becomes the triumphant victor entering his city. The colt is his noble steed. The cloaks form intricate saddle work and a red carpet. The branches are the noble banners of the King. Yes! This is a head canon. Yes! The rabbi is still poor, his ride is not flashy, the branches are torn from the trees at the side of the road and discarded as soon as he has passed. But like all good head canons it works and it holds true. He is the victorious king, this is his noble steed, and these are his noble, flag-waving subjects.
Trans people get this of course. We’ve all had those closeted days when we’re strutting down the street and in our heads we’re the kings, queens and rulers of our own head-canonned world.
“This longline t-shirt isn’t a t-shirt, it’s a dress, and it moves gracefully as my feminine hips wiggle as I walk.”
“With my long hair tucked into my snapback I look like any of the other boys swaggering down the street.”
We get that things aren’t always what they seem. That beauty and identity goes deeper than what we wear, where we’re from, and what we look like.
And here is Jesus - assigned poor, unimportant bastard at birth - strutting his stuff on the mean streets of Jerusalem.
In the tattered dress she bought second-hand, with the heels she borrowed from a friend, with makeup cheap and smudged, and hair she never grew herself; she marches with head held high into the roughest neighbourhood like the Queen of flippin’ Sheba!
In baggy jeans he stole from his brother, with bundled up socks in the front of his only pair of boxers, with stubble etched on with a pencil, and a voice he can barely keep from breaking; he kicks open the door of the men’s bathroom like Chuck flippin’ Norris!
And those that see him, really see him. Head canon is becoming canon as the crowds surround Jesus, knowing him for all that he is and all that he is doing for them. They know a true king when they see one. They know the true beauty and identity of the poor rabbi on a donkey. And in them knowing him, they themselves will be known. Not just noble subjects of the king, they are adopted brothers, sisters and siblings of the one who rides triumphant into Jerusalem.
And we can know Jesus too. And in knowing him, in seeing past the poor rabbi to the king, we get to see past the smudged makeup or dodgy packers not just to the beautiful, handsome, powerful, delightful trans men, women and nonbinary folk that we are, but to princesses, princes, and nobles in the family of the king who rode into Jerusalem to triumph the day we now call “Palm Sunday.“
So may you know that you are much, much, much more than you appear. That you are known, loved and valued by a king who knows what it is like for appearance not to match one’s identity. Who looks upon you and sees you for exactly what you are, and welcomes you into his royal family because of it.
Amen.




















