He is a King—yet why is He riding a donkey? How can a King appear so ordinary? These were some of the questions that stirred in my heart as I reflected on the celebration of Palm Sunday today.

I found myself drawn to the humble donkey that Jesus rode during His entry into Jerusalem. Who was its owner? Did the disciples purchase it, or did it belong to one of His friends—perhaps Lazarus, Mary, or Martha? The Gospel tells us that Jesus was near Bethany when He sent His disciples to retrieve the animal. Bethany, of course, was the home of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. Could it be that the donkey came from someone close to Him, a friend, or even an ordinary villager?

Though we don’t have definitive answers, the possibility that this donkey came from a humble, everyday source is deeply moving. If it’s true that our King rode into Jerusalem on a gift from ordinary people, then what a blessing it is to know that the King of all creation values even the simple offerings of seemingly insignificant individuals.

Jesus consistently chose the path of humility. Born into an ordinary family, followed by fishermen, He never used His renown to exploit or dominate. He sought neither political power nor public applause. Instead, He defended the poor, embraced sinners, and reminded everyone that His Kingdom is not of this world. Even when people tried to make Him king for their own gain, He withdrew. He would not be used for power plays. He came not to conquer lands but to conquer hearts.

As we wave our palm leaves today, let our eyes meet His. The humble King gazes back at us—not with judgment, but with love. As we lift and wave the branches, may our hearts also rise in hope and adoration. Perhaps this is the moment to declare once again, from the depths of our being, that Jesus is our only and true King. With the crowd in Jerusalem, we cry out: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”

But how quickly things change. The loving gaze of the crowd soon turned into one of hatred, anger, and rejection. The same people who cheered “Hosanna!” later cried out, “Crucify Him!” It’s a sobering reminder of how fleeting public opinion can be—and how genuine devotion must endure beyond temporary excitement.

And yet, Jesus’ loving gaze never changes. From the cross, He still looks at us with love. From the cross, He forgives. Even in rejection, He embraces us with mercy. Yes, He died for our sins—but if we were to ask Him why, I believe His answer would be simple and profound: “Because I love you so much.”

As we enter Holy Week, let us walk closely behind our humble King, following Him toward Jerusalem. May the palm branch we hold today become more than just symbols. May they be reminders of a King whose love never fades, whose mercy never ends, and whose gaze remains fixed on us—forever.