We know what everyone else did on Palm Sunday. Little kids were running around. People were throwing their cloaks on the road, creating a red carpet. People tossed palm branches on the road, creating a sidewalk. People were singing and shouting. Pharisees were telling Jesus that he should get the crowd back under control.

But what was Jesus doing? Was he doing the royal wave, arm still, hand twisting slowly at the wrist? Was he campaigning for king, shaking hands, kissing babies, encouraging precinct workers with a thumbs up?”

Matthew tells us that he was weeping.

He wasn’t worried about campaigning. There wasn’t going to be a vote that could make any kind of difference. He’d been talking about dying in Jerusalem for a while. It had marked the most recent part of his conversations with his followers.

He wasn’t worried about acting like royalty, maintaining positive public relations for the monarchy. That day or the next, he turned over the moneychanger tables and claimed that this house, this temple, this huge worship complex built over decades was his and was intended to be a house of prayer for all nations. A risky move for an itinerant preacher with followers unable to handle weapons.

That day, in the parade, as Jerusalem came into view, Jesus started to weep. He looked forty years into the future and saw the walls crumble. He saw these children and their children lying dead, Roman soldiers standing over the bodies, swords drawn.

During the next week, he would talk with the city leaders, political and religious. They would all focus on trapping him, all assume that he was a threat. They were right, of course. He was a threat to how they looked at everything.

But as he approached, he didn’t relish conflict. He wept.

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Mostly from Luke 19:28-48