Office Of Readings | Palm Sunday | A Reading From The Addresses Of Saint Andrew Of Crete | On The Palm Branches

Christian Art | A Boy Child As Jesus At Palm Sunday

Office Of Readings | Palm Sunday | A Reading From The Addresses Of Saint Andrew Of Crete | On The Palm Branches | We Walk With Jesus To His Passion

‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel.’

Commentary | Palm Sunday | A Reading From The Addresses Of Saint Andrew Of Crete

On Palm Sunday, the Church invites us to enter once again into the drama and mystery of Christ’s final journey to Jerusalem—a journey not just toward a city, but toward suffering, death, and glory. In his beautiful and contemplative homily, On the Palm Branches, Saint Andrew of Crete opens this moment to us not as passive observers of history, but as participants in Christ’s Passion, called to walk with him and to imitate his self-offering.

Andrew begins with a summons: ‘Let us go together to meet Christ on the Mount of Olives.’ It is a liturgical and spiritual call to movement—not just toward the events of Holy Week, but inwardly toward deeper union with Christ. He frames Christ’s approach to Jerusalem not as a tragic march to death, but as the free and deliberate act of divine love: ‘He proceeds of his own free will.’ Here, the Passion is not imposed on Christ by fate or enemies. Rather, it is his chosen path, the culmination of the Incarnation. Christ, who came down from heaven to raise us up from sin, now descends further into human suffering in order to exalt humanity through his cross and resurrection.

Andrew emphasizes Christ’s humility in contrast to worldly expectations of glory. Drawing from the prophet Isaiah’s description of the Servant of the Lord—’He will not dispute or raise his voice’—Andrew reminds us that Christ does not conquer by force but by meekness. This is a central paradox of Holy Week: the King comes, but he rides a donkey; the Messiah is enthroned, but on a cross.

This paradox is not meant to remain at the level of historical or theological insight. Andrew presses the point home: we must not only witness Christ’s entry but accompany him. The original crowd spread garments and waved palms; we must do more. We must ‘prostrate ourselves before him by being humble and by trying to live as he would wish’. That is, we don’t merely remember what happened—we embody it. We don’t merely re-enact the liturgy—we become the liturgy. Baptized into Christ, clothed in his grace, we are the garments laid before him. This is deeply Pauline: ‘As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.’ (Galatians 3:27) The liturgy becomes not a spectacle to watch, but a mystery to live.

There is a strong incarnational and sacramental thread running through Andrew’s sermon. Christ’s entry into ‘the dark regions of our fallen world’ is not a one-time occurrence—it is the pattern of his love. He enters our suffering, our sin, our death, in order to transform them from within. As Andrew puts it, Christ is ‘glad that he became so humble for our sake’, and his humility is not left behind in the past. Even now, exalted in heaven, Christ’s love continues to draw us upward, ‘from glory to glory’, echoing Paul in 2 Corinthians 3:18. Andrew’s eschatology is deeply personal—Christ will not rest until ‘he has raised our earthbound nature… and made it one with his own in heaven’.

In this context, the palm branches become more than celebratory symbols. Andrew contrasts ‘soulless olive branches’ with the offering of our own lives. Palms, once green and fresh, fade quickly; but the soul surrendered to God, renewed in grace, endures eternally. The palm is a sign of victory, but the true reward of Christ’s triumph over death is not leafy praise—it is a heart turned toward God, a life aligned with Christ’s.

Saint Andrew of Crete’s sermon is a call to deep interior conversion. It asks us to go beyond ritual and enter the meaning of what we celebrate. Are we only waving palms, or are we following the one who was ‘obedient unto death, even death on a cross’? Are we merely bystanders on the road to Jerusalem, or do we join the journey ourselves—through humility, repentance, love?

This reading also speaks to the Church as a whole, especially as we gather in worship on Palm Sunday. In a world that often craves spectacle, Christ enters quietly. In a culture that prizes victory, Christ comes to lose himself in love. As we sing, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,’ we are challenged not only to hail the King but to follow where he leads—to the upper room, to the garden, to the cross, and finally, to the empty tomb.

A Reading From The Addresses Of Saint Andrew Of Crete

Let us go together to meet Christ on the Mount of Olives. Today he returns from Bethany and proceeds of his own free will towards his holy and blessed passion, to consummate the mystery of our salvation. He who came down from heaven to raise us from the depths of sin, to raise us with himself, we are told in Scripture, above every sovereignty, authority and power, and every other name that can be named, now comes of his own free will to make his journey to Jerusalem. He comes without pomp or ostentation. As the psalmist says: He will not dispute or raise his voice to make it heard in the streets. He will be meek and humble, and he will make his entry in simplicity.

Let us run to accompany him as he hastens towards his passion, and imitate those who met him then, not by covering his path with garments, olive branches or palms, but by doing all we can to prostrate ourselves before him by being humble and by trying to live as he would wish. Then we shall be able to receive the Word at his coming, and God, whom no limits can contain, will be within us.

In his humility Christ entered the dark regions of our fallen world and he is glad that he became so humble for our sake, glad that he came and lived among us and shared in our nature in order to raise us up again to himself. And even though we are told that he has now ascended above the highest heavens – the proof, surely, of his power and godhead – his love for man will never rest until he has raised our earthbound nature from glory to glory, and made it one with his own in heaven.

So let us spread before his feet, not garments or soulless olive branches, which delight the eye for a few hours and then wither, but ourselves, clothed in his grace, or rather, clothed completely in him. We who have been baptized into Christ must ourselves be the garments that we spread before him. Now that the crimson stains of our sins have been washed away in the saving waters of baptism and we have become white as pure wool, let us present the conqueror of death, not with mere branches of palms but with the real rewards of his victory. Let our souls take the place of the welcoming branches as we join today in the children’s holy song: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the king of Israel.