“The Way of Humility, the Way of Glory”
Today, we begin Holy Week with the celebration of Palm Sunday. We recall the moment Jesus entered Jerusalem, riding humbly on a donkey, as crowds shouted with joy, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” It looked like a parade of victory, a royal entrance. But we know that the shouts of welcome would soon turn into cries of “Crucify him!” This week brings us face to face with the mystery of Christian faith—how joy and suffering, glory and shame, triumph and seeming defeat coexist in the story of our salvation.
Today’s Scripture readings invite us into this sacred paradox. From Isaiah’s suffering servant, to the psalmist’s lament, to Paul’s hymn in Philippians, and the passion narrative in Luke, we are shown again and again that what the world sees as failure, God transforms into victory.
Isaiah speaks of a servant who is taught by God and who listens with the heart of a disciple:
“Morning by morning he wakens—wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught.” (Isaiah 50:4)
The servant does not turn away from suffering. He gives his back to those who strike him, his cheeks to those who pull out his beard. He does not hide his face from insult and spitting.
This passage is traditionally known as one of the “Servant Songs.” In the following verse, Isaiah 50:10, it says, “Who among you fears the Lord and obeys the voice of his servant?”. This makes it clear that the one speaking in this passage is indeed the servant of the Lord.
From a worldly point of view, this servant appears defeated. But he declares,
“The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame.” (Isaiah 50:7)
This servant’s quiet strength, rooted in trust, finds its full embodiment in Jesus. Jesus listened to the will of the Father and responded with obedience, compassion, and courage—even as he faced betrayal, arrest, and death. As disciples, we too are called to listen first, and then speak and act with faithfulness and love.
The psalmist cries out from a place of anguish:
“My eye is consumed with sorrow, and also my throat and my belly… I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind; I am as useless as a broken pot.” (Psalm 31:9,12)
These words express the rawness of grief, abandonment, and despair—experiences that many of us know too well. Yet even here, faith rises:
“But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord. I have said, ‘You are my God. My times are in your hand.’” (Psalm 31:14–15)
Jesus echoed this very prayer from the cross:
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” (Luke 23:46)
Even in death, Jesus entrusted himself wholly to God. This radical trust is the beating heart of our faith. It invites us to surrender our fears and burdens, to place our lives—especially our suffering—into God’s hands.
Paul urges us:
“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5)
And what was this mind? It was the mind of humility:
“Though he was in the form of God… he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave… he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6–8)
The Greek word kenosis—“he emptied himself”—is the essence of Jesus’ way. He did not cling to power or privilege but chose the path of servanthood, love, and obedience. And because of this,
“God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name.” (Philippians 2:9)
In this self-emptying, we find the paradox of Christian discipleship: the way down is the way up. True greatness is found not in self-assertion but in self-giving. As followers of Jesus, we are called to this same humility in our homes, churches, and communities.
Luke’s Gospel presents Jesus not as a ruler demanding loyalty, but as one who serves:
“But I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:27)
He heals the ear of the soldier who comes to arrest him. He forgives those who crucify him:
“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34)
He speaks words of hope to the thief on the cross:
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:43)
And finally, he commends his spirit to God in trust.
These are not the actions of a defeated man, but of a King whose power is love. A King whose crown is made not of gold but of thorns. A King who reigns from a cross.
Palm Sunday confronts us with a question: What kind of king do we follow?
Are we looking for a victorious leader who will grant us success and comfort? Or do we dare to follow the King who suffers, serves, and sacrifices?
Jesus did not conquer with violence or fear. He overcame the world by emptying himself in love. And this is the path he invites us to walk.
In our culture of self-promotion and competition, this message may sound foolish. But the Gospel insists:
Sometimes, surrender is victory. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Sometimes, the cross becomes the doorway to new life.
As we begin this Holy Week, let us walk with Jesus. Let us remember that the call to follow him is not just a matter of belief, but of embodying his humility, trust, and compassion in our lives.
May the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus. May we, too, set our faces like flint, trusting that the path of the cross leads not to defeat, but to resurrection.
Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
In the name of the humble and exalted Christ, Amen.