They Came for the Spectacle But Missed the Christ
A Reflection on Palm (Flowery) Sunday
Palm (Flowery) Sunday – (Philippians §247 (4:4-9) / Saint John §41a (12:1-18)).
Beloved in Christ,
On this day, we behold a great multitude going forth to meet the Lord. They take up palms and branches of willow, and they cry aloud:
“Hosanna! Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord!”
It is a moment of triumph. A moment of joy. A moment that seems, at first glance, to be full of faith.
And yet, my brethren, we know how this ends.
The same voices that cry “Hosanna!” today will cry “Crucify Him!” before the week is out.
The same hands that bear palms will soon be empty – or worse, clenched in anger and accusation.
The same hearts that are stirred with excitement will grow cold when the Lord does not meet their expectations.
The Temptation of the Spectacular
For there is always a temptation in the human heart to seek after signs and wonders. To desire something visible, something striking, something that impresses the senses and stirs the emotions.
We see this temptation everywhere, even, dare I say, within the walls of the Church herself.
Consider how many are drawn to worship not by the power of the Gospel, but by the lure of performance. How many come seeking to be moved not by repentance, but by the swell of a choir or band, the drama of emotional lyrics, the operatic flourish that would not be out of place in a concert hall?
Now, I do not say that beauty has no place in worship. God forbid. The Church has always adorned her worship with what is fitting and reverent.
But there is a difference – a great difference – between beauty that serves the Gospel and spectacle that replaces it.
When worship becomes a matter of emotional stirring, when it depends upon the skill of musicians or polyphonic singing, then we are in danger of becoming like the crowd in Jerusalem: We come solely for the experience. We come to be moved. We come for the miracle. But we do not come for Christ.
And such things – experience, being moved, beholding a miracle – are most assuredly not, in themselves, evil. They are exceptionally good. God has indeed worked wonders. He has raised the dead. He has healed the sick. He has sanctified water, and oil, and all the elements of this world.
But hear this well: a faith that depends upon being impressed will not endure being tested.
If a man believes only because he has seen something entertaining, then when entertainment fades, so too will his faith.
If a man follows Christ only because he is moved by signs or by emotional power, then when Christ leads him to the Cross, he will turn away.
And this is precisely what we see in Jerusalem.
The Crowd’s Mistake – and Ours
The crowd welcomed Christ as King, but soon would say they had no king but Caesar. The crowed rejoiced in the raising of Lazarus, but would then seek to put to death the One Who raised him.
Do you see the pattern, beloved?
The crowd sought harmony. They found it, for a moment, in their unified shout of “Hosanna!” The crowd sought a king. And they greeted Him, for a moment, with palms and praises. The crowd sought a miracle; and they had seen one, in the raising of Lazarus.
But none of these things – none of them – were enough to sustain their faith when the hour of trial came.
For when Christ did not overthrow the Romans, the harmony turned to discord. When He stood silent before Pilate, the king became a disappointment. When He hung upon the Cross, the miracle-worker seemed powerless.
And so they abandoned Him. Not because He had changed, but because they had never truly known Him. They had known only what He could do for them. They had never desired what He came to give them: Himself.
The Church Was Not Founded on Spectacle
Now, beloved, we must speak plainly.
There are always those who seek to ground their faith in spectacle, in signs, in wonders, in things that dazzle and fascinate. Some travel great distances to witness miraculous fires. Others seek out healings, or visions, or extraordinary phenomena.
But the Church was not founded upon spectacle. It was founded upon the the simple truth that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
Fire may be blessed. Water may be sanctified. Choirs may sing with the voices of angels. But neither fire, nor water, nor the most beautiful music ever composed will save you apart from Him Who blesses, Who sanctifies, Who is praised.
For salvation does not come through astonishment. It comes through repentance, through faith, and through union with Christ in His suffering and in His Resurrection.
The Apostle Paul knew this well. He did not come to the Corinthians with “excellency of speech or of wisdom.” He did not seek to dazzle them with rhetoric or impress them with signs. He came preaching Christ crucified, “unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness.”
A “stumblingblock… foolishness.” Not particularly impressive. Certainly not spectacular. But true.
And it is truth, not spectacle, that endures.
The True Miracle
And so I say to you this day: we see in the narrative of Holy Week how emotions are fickle and change. We see how even true miracles were not enough to sustain faith of so many, even among the Apostles themselves. So: if you desire to see a miracle this Holy Week, and one which will not distract you or fail you when you are brought before the Cross of the Savior, do not seek it in distant places, nor in outward displays. Do not seek it in any sign or wonder that might impress the eye or briefly stir the heart.
Instead, do this: Stand before a mirror and look at the person whom you see. Behold the miracle there: a soul created from nothing. A life known before the foundations of the world. A person bearing the image of God, however marred by sin, however broken by the Fall. A person for whom Christ Himself now enters Jerusalem to suffer, and to die, and to rise again.
This is the miracle that can sustain you. That you have been called to eternal life. That you yourself may be sanctified. That your heart may be brought into true harmony with the will of God; a harmony that does not fade when the music stops, but endures through suffering, through trial, and even through death itself.
For this is the harmony that the angels sing: not a harmony of voices, but a harmony of wills united to the will of God.
This is the true greeting of the King: not the waving of palms, but the offering of the heart.
This is the true miracle: not the raising of Lazarus, but the raising of you from death in sin to life in Christ.
Think on These Things
And this is why the Apostle exhorts us today: “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are holy… think on these things.”
Not on spectacles. Not on rumors of wonders. Not on things that stir curiosity but do not transform the heart. But on truth. On holiness. On the things that endure. For the Lord is nigh.
He comes now, not to astonish you but to save you. He comes not to dazzle your eyes but to claim your heart. He comes, humble and meek, seated upon a colt. And yet He is the King of Glory.
Conclusion
Let us, then, not be as the crowd, who welcomed Him for a moment but abandoned Him in the end.
Let us not be as those who seek after signs and wonders, who ground their faith in that which fascinates or dazzles, only to fall away when the spectacle fades.
Let us receive Him as He truly is: not merely as the worker of wonders, but as the Crucified and Risen Lord. Not as one who exists to meet our expectations, but as the One to Whom we must conform our lives. Not as a source of emotional experience, but as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
For He enters Jerusalem today, knowing full well what awaits Him.
He goes willingly to the Cross. He goes for you.
Will you receive Him? Not with palms only, but with your heart?
Not with shouts of “Hosanna,” but with a life of repentance and faith?
Not for a moment, but unto the end?
This is the question that Holy Week puts before us.
May we answer it rightly.
5 April 2026