Yesterday, millions of people around the country gathered together with their cardboard signs and upside-down flags, singing and marching and declaring a fairly unified message in our constitution and this American experiment. It feels like the message keeps getting muddled in the name, since we have no kings. One pastor said, “If it was called ‘No Assholes’ I would go, but this whole ‘No Kings’ thing makes it seem ridiculous.” Another pastor retorted back, “Yeah, but the collective gathering is still important.” And I could see everyone is both wrong and right to some degree.

Protests are a backbone of our country — non-violently rebelling against an unjust dominant narrative and insisting people see a different way forward. It’s a constitutional privilege needing protection at all times. Today starts Holy Week in the Christian Church, which began with a protest against an idolatrous empire and oppressive dictators.

Holy Week began with a protest.

Palm Sunday is the start of where we see, more obviously, two kingdoms clash against each other — the kingdom of empire with military might and oppression, juxtaposed against the kingdom of love with grace and peace. It began at the start of Passover week, when Jesus and his disciples — with a crowd of marginalized folx like the poor, healed, formerly blind, children, women, and others — arrived into Jerusalem. This was a city of around 40,000 people, but during Passover it ballooned to over 200,000 with pilgrims and travelers. (Josephus, a Jewish historian, counted the population as high as 3 million.)

Because Passover is a historical celebration of Israel’s rescue out of slavery in Egypt and the escape from the oppressors that kept them captive, there was always concern that the Jews would turn on Rome and revolt. So Rome, which occupied and ruled over Israel, would send whomever they put in charge of the area to Jerusalem with at least 1,000 troops to police the city and keep the peace.

On this Sunday, it was incredibly likely that Pilate, the Roman official in charge of Jerusalem, would be arriving into the city from the East out of the Mediterranean area. He would be atop his war horse, wearing robes with the details of his official capacity and the backing of Roman power. Pilate’s garrison would be marching before and behind him. There were horses and men and weapons and armor. There were flags and noise and dust and everyone would have known they were coming from miles away. Within this legion was heavy intimidation and a severe threat of violence should anyone try to cause a rebellion or if things got out of hand.

On the other side of Jerusalem came a different sort of parade and noise, when Jesus arrived on a donkey with the poor, marginalized and forgotten before and behind him. Nothing would be adorning Jesus to prove who he was. He was confident in his identity and mission and he knew God’s kingdom would always stand up to and against Roman imperial power, or any other kind of oppressive power that causes marginalized, poor and ignored people to suffer.

Palm Sunday shows two different kinds of kingdoms. A kingdom of intimidation and a kingdom of inclusion. Jesus revealed an alternative kingdom, where instead of violent Roman imperial power bringing political change, love and justice could move mountains.

I am in no way comparing these United States to the ancient Roman Empire, but I am comparing our human propensity for domination, power, greed and control. These aren’t just sins living in the individual human heart but they are the cultural waters we swim in and are impacted by — our political leaders as well.

Your collective hatred of our current president won’t save you or fix you. It’s simply a convenient distraction from the good work you’re meant to do in this world. When all our energy is focused on the things we’re against, we sometimes forget to participate in the things we are for, because no matter how unkind, horrific and abusive power is, even when power threatens your very life, there’s a deeper truth of love in the world. Love has more power than anything else. Love has the power to save.

The truth is, the world has been desperate for saving for a long time because things haven’t been made right. Wars and bombings and genocide. Masked policing and border problems and dehumanizing of undocumented folx. Mass shootings and tornados and Epstein and divorce and cancer and abortion and racism and all the things coming undone around us that make us cry out, “Hosanna! Save us! Deliver us! Make it right, right now!”

“Hosanna” isn’t “hallelujah.” Hosanna isn’t praise and it isn’t worship. Hosanna isn’t balloons and snow cones and parades with streamers and fireworks and a marching band. Hosanna is desperation. Hosanna is crying mothers and frenzied shouts. Hosanna is truth-telling in the rawest form, vulnerable and exposed. Hosanna holds nothing back and isn’t protected in bubble wrap or sensitive to another’s emotions. Hosanna isn’t afraid of hurting someone’s feelings or manipulating a situation. Hosanna is a broken, at the end of your rope, and boldly demanding that things are finally made right … because we’ve had enough!

Palm Sunday isn’t a day for palm branches and parades. It’s a day of protests and signs and chanting our needs. It’s a day of demonstration and desperation. It’s a day where we cry out our broken and bold “hosanna” in the most obscene fashion, and trust that Jesus is with us in that broken hosanna. It’s a day when we speak truth to power, defenseless and unarmed.

Palm Sunday reveals the truth of what is and the hope of what’s to come.

Holy week starts today with desperate, truthful shouts of what we need. Jesus didn’t belittle or shame the crowd who protested injustice and boldly spoke out against oppressive powers. Jesus joined in the protests by upending everything from religious institutions to violent objects of death. He spent his last days making a mockery of Roman power and religious obligation. He spent his last days demonstrating what love looks like, and that love conquers all. Because the truth is, God’s love isn’t contained to temples or church buildings.

The truth is: God’s love isn’t prosperity gospel or flashy advertisements to convince you to join the crowd. The truth is: God’s love is usually found in the most desperate of places, with the most desperate of people, who are desperate to see. The truth is: God’s love comes riding into every fortified or occupied place in the most defenseless way. The truth is: God’s love shows up in our desperation, and with a broken, disappointed and hopeful hosanna, we continue forth in that love.

Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

And until then, may we hold up signs and speak truth to power and make our neighbors chicken soup. May we stop flinging hatred into the world and instead continue forth in Love.