For many, Palm Sunday evokes a range of emotions: joy, confusion, and maybe even fear. Today, Jane Aseltyne reflects on the humanity of Palm Sunday liturgy, which invites us to enter into Christ’s Passion.

March 29, 2026: Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, Year A
Matthew 21:1–11 (Procession)
Isaiah 50:4–7
Psalm 22:8–9, 17–20, 23–24
Philippians 2:6–11
Matthew 26:14–27:66

So Utterly Human

A reflection by Jane Aseltyne, IHM

As a convert to Catholicism, I did not grow up receiving palms on Palm Sunday. I’ve heard from my friends who have been lifelong Catholics that Palm Sunday was super exciting because they got to play with something in church, or make cool shapes with their palms after Mass.

After thirteen years as a Catholic, I find Palm Sunday still evokes childhood joy—receiving something special at church—yet it also brings forward the complexity of human experience. The emotions we encounter range from excitement and hope to curiosity, confusion, abandonment, and fear.

Mass begins with the congregation gathered outside the church in joyful anticipation of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It’s exciting! Everyone is upbeat! Not only do we get to hold hands and wave them around, but we also walk, talk, and sing as we process into the church. And then, by the time we get to the gospel reading, the mood shifts. We become somber. And soon we find ourselves among the crowd calling for Barabbas’ release. And I often have a visceral response when I hear myself and those around me shout, “crucify him!” when asked what should happen to Jesus. I imagine myself among the crowd, afraid and wondering what will happen next. I feel the humanity of the moment: the sadness, the guilt, the anger, the despair.

Yet I know I am not alone in my feelings. We are told that Jesus felt many emotions when he retreated to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. He says to his disciples, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here and stay awake with me.” Three times he asks his friends to wait and stay awake with him, and three times he finds them sleeping. I imagine his frustration, his loneliness. I’m sure we can all relate to the experience of having our friends or loved ones let us down. And I imagine we can also relate to the experience of being the person who has let someone down.

When reflecting on the humanity of the disciples and Jesus’ experience, I often turn Mary Oliver’s poem, Gethsemane:

The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did,
maybe the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move, maybe
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.¹

The last stanza always stays with me. The humanity of Palm Sunday is part of the story. Perhaps we resonate with the experience of the disciples, the crowd, Judas, or Pilate. Perhaps we recall the times we let our friends down, or how we celebrated what Jesus has done in our lives. Or we recall childhood memories of Palm Sundays past. However we enter in, we can recognize that our lives are intertwined with a variety of experiences and emotions. Palm Sunday invites us into the very human experience of feeling many things at once.

As we enter Holy Week, may we be open to making space for one another and honoring the humanity in each of us. May we find ways to pray and hold space for the needs and sufferings of our world, knowing that Jesus walks with us in our humanity, in our suffering, and in our joy. And may we find ways to walk with Jesus through his passion, death, and resurrection.

                             
1. Mary Oliver, “Gethsemane,” in Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006).
                             

Sr. Jane Aseltyne, IHM holds an MA in Systematic Theology and Spirituality from the Catholic Theological Union at Chicago. Her master’s thesis entitled, “Beyond the Binary: Expanding Understandings of the Imago Dei,” seeks to develop a more inclusive understanding of what it means to be made in the image and likeness of God, particularly concerning gender and sexual orientation.