The Paradox of Palm Sunday: Embracing Love through the Cross

by: Brev. Sr. Jessa Rosal

Today is no ordinary day. Today, as we hold palms in our hands and gather in liturgical unity, we re-live a sacred moment—Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The people cry out in joyous voices: “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” We celebrate this moment, but we know that this same road leads not to a royal palace, but to a place of pain. 

Also, Palm Sunday is the paradox of the Christian life. A celebration of a King who reigns not from a throne, but from the Cross. 

Pope Benedict XVI said it beautifully: 

“If I look at the Cross, I could not but accept the fact that it is the most significant way of expressing the greatest act of a lover.” 

It was love, not force, that conquered the world. It was meekness, not might, that shut down the voice of the devil. This is the divine logic: The way to salvation is the way of the Cross. 

As St. Paul says in Romans 8:17:“If we suffer with Him, we shall also be glorified with Him.” 

Redemption is not automatic. Jesus opened the path, but each of us must respond. It is that kind of response which is personal and indeed Subjective. We are called not just to admire His sacrifice, but to share in it. 

Allow me to mention my own experience of how the Lord invited me to carry a personal cross in recent months/ last year. 

 A medical condition disrupted my daily rhythm. I was taken away from my mission, from the people I love and serve, from the work I find so fulfilling. One moment I was active and fully engaged; the next, I was lying in a hospital bed—weak, questioning, vulnerable. 

I had to undergo a series of tests, procedures, and eventually, an operation. It was painful not just physically, but spiritually. My Christmas Eve was not spent in joyful caroling or prayerful vigil—it was quiet, cold, sterile, under hospital lights. And yet... it was holy. It was in that silence that God drew near. 

In fact, I still vividly remember that moment—how I found myself glued to the screen, watching EWTN. It was as if God Himself led me to that channel, to that very episode, just so I could encounter Mother Angelica for the first time. She was sharing a deeply personal story about spending Christmas Eve while sick and alone. During those days, all she had was a cellphone pressed to her ear, listening to the Holy Mass from afar. No grand celebration, no lights, no music—just her, Jesus, and the silence of a cold room. But what moved me to tears was her discovery: that Christmas, stripped of everything else, was the most beautiful one she ever had. Because there, in that quiet loneliness, she felt closest to Jesus—and His presence filled the space more powerfully than any festive song ever could. 

 What came next, after what felt like an eternity spent in the quiet isolation of a hospital room, was our annual Spiritual Enrichment Program—our 8-day retreat. And during those deeply intimate moments with Jesus in prayer, I felt Him gently drawing me to do one thing: to fix my gaze on the Crucifix. I wept—not out of despair, but in awe. I realized, in that moment, that I was being given a rare privilege. To love with Jesus. To suffer with Him and for Him. And I heard the whisper of Jesus in my heart:“Thank you, my beloved. Because you love Me enough to suffer with Me.” 

And I knew that my pain was not wasted. My wounds were united to His. This is the mystery of victimhood—to be so in love with Jesus that we say, "Let me share in Your pain, because I want to share in Your love." 

This calling is not mine alone. This is the Christian calling. 

• To the families who carry their own crosses—financial hardship, misunderstandings, illnesses, or the pain of a prodigal child—your silent endurance, your daily self-offering, is precious in the eyes of God. Like Mary, you stand by the Cross. And your faithfulness speaks louder than words. 

• To the youth, you may be struggling with mental health, confusion, peer pressure, or broken family life. Perhaps you wonder where you belong or what your future holds. Remember, Jesus too was once misunderstood, mocked, and rejected. In your pain, unite with Him. Say, "Jesus, I offer this for souls." 

• To the young professionals, burdened by responsibilities, ambitions, and exhaustion—you are not alone. Your sacrifices, your late nights, your honest labor can be your altar of offering. St. Josemaría Escrivá reminds us:“Sanctify your work. Every moment can be holy when offered with love.” 

Remember, we are not the first to tread this path. We have the Saints who embraced the Cross.

 

• St. Thérèse of Lisieux, in her hidden life, offered every little act with great love. Her sufferings in silence made her a powerful intercessor.

 • St. Maximilian Kolbe, in Auschwitz, stepped forward to take the place of another prisoner. He died, not because he had to, but because he chose to love. 

• St. John Paul II, in his final years, could barely speak or move. But his witness—his perseverance in pain—preached more powerfully than any homily. 

These saints did not escape suffering—they embraced it. They found Jesus in it. 

Jesus said in John 12:24: “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.” 

This is the parable of Palm Sunday. The people expected a King with power, but Jesus came to die like a seed, buried in the soil of humanity’s sin. From His death came life. From His wounds, we are healed. From His Cross, our salvation. 

And so, dear friends, what “seed” is Jesus asking you to plant in the soil of your life? 

Is it your pride? Your plans? Your comfort zone? Your wounds? 

Die with Him. Rise with Him. Love with Him. 

Let us reflect: 

What cross are you carrying today? And how might God be asking you to carry it—not as a burden to escape, but as a gift to offer—for the salvation of souls? 

Lord Jesus, our humble and victorious King, You rode into Jerusalem with full knowledge of the Cross that awaited You. You embraced suffering, not because You had to, but because You love us. 

Thank You for teaching us that love is not found in ease, but in sacrifice. Thank You for inviting us to be Your companions—not just in joy, but in pain. 

Bless all of us today who carry hidden crosses. Bless our families, our youth, our workers, and all who suffer silently. Give us the fire of charity from the Holy Spirit That we may carry our crosses with meekness and humility, like Your Heart. 

Unite our pain to Yours. Make us victim souls—not in bitterness, but in burning love. And let our lives proclaim: "I have loved, and therefore I have suffered—and I rejoice, because I have loved with You." 

Amen.