The Kind of King We Follow: A Palm Sunday Reflection with Bishop Anashuya Fletcher
“Jesus, we declare that you are our king this morning. So as our Lord, we ask that you would take the word that I have to offer, but that we would hear your word to us. So come and meet us.” — Bishop Anashuya Fletcher, Palm Sunday 2025
With this prayer, Bishop Anashuya Fletcher opened her Palm Sunday message, inviting the congregation into a rich and honest reflection on the kind of king Jesus is—and the kind of kingdom he brings.
In a world shaped by power struggles and political triumphs, Palm Sunday calls us to pause and notice in a radically different way. Drawing from Luke’s gospel, Bishop Anashuya describes Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem—not on a war horse but a donkey. The crowd lays down their cloaks and shouts praise, hoping this king will rise in power and overthrow the oppressors. But Jesus subverts their expectations entirely.
“And they have such high hopes and expectations as Jesus comes,” Ana said. “Finally, he has come to Jerusalem, and he is going to fully establish his reign and set everything right in the world. He has arrived to the political, social, financial, religious heart of the empire. And he is going to seize power and overthrow it. He's going to crush the enemies. He's going to exact vengeance on all those who have oppressed his people for so long.
“Except he doesn’t.”
“The God revealed in Jesus is a different God from the one that they were expecting and the one they hoped for. He doesn't come riding on a war horse into Jerusalem. He comes in peace, on a donkey.”
Ana went on to paint a portrait of a king who defies every assumption: “He doesn’t retaliate when he’s arrested. Instead, he reaches out and heals the soldier’s ear. He refuses to call on legions of angels to save him. He doesn’t call down curses on those who persecute him. Instead, he asks God to forgive them, even as he hangs in agony on a cross.”
This is not the king the people had hoped for. And as it becomes clear who Jesus truly is—humble, nonviolent, merciful—the crowd turns. “Only a few days later,” Ana reminded us, “the crowds in Jerusalem completely reject him as their king, as the Messiah, as God. And instead, they become complicit in Jesus’ abuse, torture, and death.”
Jesus knew the rejection was coming. “Even before he enters Jerusalem,” Ana said, “Jesus knows that this will happen… and so he weeps. He weeps with compassion when he thinks of what is to come. Because if only they had embraced him and who he is as king, they would have lived a life of peace.”
That kingdom of peace still stands open to us today. But it’s not built through force or dominance.
“Our God is not one who uses force or coercion,” Ana said. “And so, the most just thing that God can do sometimes is to let us have our own way.”
Ana reflected on how our worship—what we sing and pray—can expose the tension between the peace of Christ and our human desire for control. She was recently challenged by a friend to reconsider some of the diocesan worship songs with violent or triumphalist lyrics.
An example is the song “Praise”. In it, the lyrics read,
“My praise is in the water, my enemies drowning,” one line read. Another: “My praise is the shout that brings Jericho down.”
“Jericho is a real place in the West Bank, inhabited by Palestinians,” Ana noted. “And it suddenly sunk in how completely tone deaf it was to be singing this triumphalist song about raising what is now a Palestinian-occupied city.”
Rather than dismiss the concern, Ana, along with others, chose to rework the lyrics. “I’m not naive enough to believe that singing the right lyrics is going to change the world,” she said. “But as my heart engages, I believe they will help transform me. All of those parts of me that long for power, that move quickly toward violence, that make others into enemies—those are exposed in the light of who Jesus truly is. And they can be redeemed if I offer them to the God who conquered death.”
Palm Sunday, Ana reminded us, is not just a moment to wave branches and sing. It’s a time to remember the kind of king we follow—the Prince of Peace, who came not to dominate but to deliver, not to punish but to heal, not to enslave but to set us free.
“So, I want to finish,” she said, “by inviting you to consider where in your life God might be asking you to lay something down so that you can more fully embrace Jesus as the Prince of Peace and as your King.”
As we enter Holy Week, may we take time to do just that.
Note: AI was used in the creation of this story.
