Prepare
Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in Matthew 21:1-11 marks the beginning of Holy Week. The scene feels celebratory, but it’s actually layered with tension. Jesus enters the city not on a war horse nor in a display of political power, but on a donkey. In doing so, he fulfills the prophecy from Zechariah 9:9. This signals a different kind of kingship: one rooted in humility and solidarity with ordinary people.
As Jesus enters, the crowds respond with enthusiasm. They spread cloaks on the road, wave branches, and shout “Hosanna,” which means “save us.” This is both praise and protest, a cry for deliverance. Many in the crowds likely expected Jesus to overthrow Roman rule and restore political power to Israel. Their understanding of “salvation” was shaped by their lived oppression.
Yet, the kind of salvation Jesus brings does not align with their expectations. His path doesn’t lead to a throne of dominance, but to the cross; and the same crowds that shout “Hosanna” will, within days, fall silent or turn away.
This passage invites us to consider how we recognize, or fail to recognize, God at work. It challenges assumptions about power, leadership, and what it means to be saved. It also raises an important question for today: What kind of change are we hoping for, and are we open to it if it looks different than we imagined?
Opening Exercise
Watch this video about a community organization in Minneapolis called Singing Resistance.
As you watch, pay attention to what you hear in their voices.
- What are they carrying?
- What are they hoping for?
After the video, ask:
- What emotions did you notice?
- What do you think they are longing for or crying out for?
- Where do you hear something like “Hosanna” in this?
Transition to the text: In Matthew 21, the crowd is also crying out, but the word they use is ‘Hosanna,’ literally: save us.
Text Read Aloud
Matthew 21:1–11
Hosanna: When Salvation Looks Different
It looks like a parade.
There’s movement, noise, energy. People are lining the road, waving branches, shouting. Cloaks are thrown down like a makeshift red carpet. The crowd is caught up in the moment.
“Hosanna!” they cry.
“Save us!”
This is what hope looks like when it spills out into the street.
But look closer.
Jesus isn’t riding in like the kind of king they know. There’s no armor, no horse, no show of force. He comes on a donkey, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
And still, they cheer.
They cheer because they believe this, this will change everything.
The crowd has expectations. They are living under occupation. They are tired, burdened, longing for freedom. And here comes Jesus: healer, teacher, miracle-worker. Surely, this is the one who will fix it. Surely, this is the one who will take power, restore order, and make things right.
But unbeknownst to them, Jesus is not entering Jerusalem to take power. He is entering to give himself away.
That’s the tension of this story.
The same voices shouting “Hosanna!” are filled with hope. But, it’s a hope shaped by their understanding of how the world works. Power defeats power. Strength overcomes strength. Kings conquer. But Jesus redefines all of it.
He comes in humility and vulnerability.
He comes in peace.
And the kind of salvation Jesus brings won’t look like what they imagined. That’s what makes this story so close to us.
We also carry expectations. We pray for change, for healing, for justice, for things to be made right. And often, we imagine what that should look like. We imagine how God should act, how quickly things should shift, how clearly victory should appear.
Hosanna: When Salvation Looks Different
But what if God is already moving, and it just doesn’t look like what we expected?
What if salvation doesn’t come through domination?
What if salvation doesn’t come through force?
What if salvation doesn’t come through winning?
Instead, it breaks in through love that refuses to let go, through relentless presence, or through a commitment to wading through trenches together.
The crowd saw Jesus.
But they didn’t fully SEE Jesus.
And maybe that’s where we begin too.
Learning to see again.
Learning to let go of the version of God we’ve constructed.
Learning to recognize that sometimes the most powerful thing God does… is easy to overlook.
Hosanna still means “save us.”
The question is: are we ready for the kind of saving that actually comes?
Reflection Questions
- What stands out to you about how Jesus enters Jerusalem in this story? What are the people doing, and how are they responding?
- Why do you think the crowd expected something different from Jesus? What does this tell us about how people understand power or leadership?
- What does Jesus’ choice to ride a donkey (instead of a horse) say about the kind of king he is?
- Where in your life might you be expecting God to act in a certain way? What would it look like to be open to something different?
Closing Activity
Hand out a small piece of paper to each person and invite them to write one word or short phrase they would shout “Hosanna” about. What do they need saving from or for right now?
When they’re ready, invite them to fold their paper, holding their words with care and privacy, and place it on an altar or in another shared sacred space.
From there, you have a couple of options depending on the trust and comfort level of your group. You may choose to read some of the prayers aloud, being mindful to protect what feels tender or personal. After each one, the group can respond together: “God, hear our cry.”
Or, if it feels more appropriate, you can offer a few collective petitions shaped by what surfaced in your conversation, again inviting the group to respond: “God, hear our cry.”
Final Prayer
Jesus,
you come to us in ways we don’t always expect.
You meet us in humility and presence.
Help us to see you clearly.
Help us to let go of what we think salvation should look like.
And open us to the kind of love that changes everything.
Hosanna.
Save us.
Amen.
Bio of Author
Emily Harkins is the Lead Pastor and Founding Developer of The Dwelling in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, a community rooted in belonging, dignity, and shared life alongside neighbors experiencing homelessness. She is passionate about justice, advocacy, and building spaces where people are fully seen and known. Emily is a Colorado native turned Southern Belle who loves Diet Coke, good stationery, and using “y’all” as often as possible.
