Rome went through three main stages in its historical development. It started as a monarchy—which meant it was ruled by a king. Then it became a republic, where all authority and power were invested into elected politicians in the senate called senators and magistrates. And then, finally, it became the most powerful empire the ancient world had ever seen—ruled by an emperor. But during the time of the republic, senators ruled—and these political aristocrats were often appointed as military leaders—generals.

And when they’d achieve a great military victory, a triumph—a ritual procession through Rome marking the highest honor possible—was bestowed upon the general. It was the highest honor a man could receive—the climax of a Roman aristocrat’s career. In order to even be considered Triumphant—a man was required to have been a magistrate in the senate and to have won a major land or sea battle in the region which was under his rule. Which meant having killed at least 5000 enemy soldiers and ending a war.

The ceremony celebrating such a mighty conquest was lavish to say the least, usually lasting an entire day. It began with a solemn procession from the Triumphal Gate in the Campus Martius to the Temple of Jupiter—their most mighty God—on the Capitol, passing through the forum and the Via Sacra (“sacred way”). Passing through along all the streets on the way, all adorned with fancy garlands and adoring people shouting congratulations and “io triumphe”, “Hail Triumphal!” The magistrates and members of the Senate came first in the procession, followed by musicians, then the sacrificial animals, then the spoils of war—including the captured prisoners in chains!

Then, almost at the very end, the centerpiece of the entire parade, in glorious splendor, the victorious general—the triumphator—in a golden chariot—wearing purple—the color of royalty—and a gold tunic and toga, holding a laurel branch in his right hand and ivory scepter in his left—while a slave would hold a golden crown over his head. The general’s soldiers marched last behind him, singing songs of praise and of his exploits. When they reached the temple of Jupiter at the Capitol, the general presented his laurel branch along with thanksgiving offerings to the statue of Jupiter, while the prisoners were slain for all to see, and the ceremony concluded with a massive feast for the magistrates and the Senate.

And none was more lavish or more controversial than Pompey the Great’s triumphs. He threw himself 3—and his third and final one took the cake for—pomp and splendor. It went on for 2 days and was an unprecedented display of wealth and luxury. Plutarch, the great Roman historian likened his triumph as a symbol of Pompey’s domination over the entire world—and Rome’s along with him—the likes of which outshone even Alexander the Great. Pliny describes this gigantic portrait-bust covered with exotic pearls that Pompey had commissioned of himself for the parade in outlandish opulence.

That’s a triumphal entry. The Romans knew how to do a triumphal entry—how to celebrate—even coronate, a great and mighty man as though he were a king. Compare that to Jesus’ triumphal entry. He doesn’t come in demonstration of might and power. He doesn’t come victoriously. He doesn’t come proceeded by musicians and poets shouting out his exploits before him. He doesn’t come parading his conquested enemies in chains behind him. He doesn’t come wearing a royal robe and with a slave holding a golden crown over his head, riding in a chariot made of gold. He comes into Jerusalem, in a shepherd’s cloak, riding on a small donkey.

And the reason he does so is to fulfill OT prophecy concerning Messiah and how he would come into Jerusalem humbly and lowly, riding on a donkey’s colt, and yet bringing a high and mighty salvation through which he will establish an everlasting reign and kingdom marked by righteousness and peace. But Jesus’ reign and rule will not be what these adoring crowds expect.

The kind of kingdom he will inaugurate is not what they envision. The category of King he will be, is not they’d ever have anticipated…The victory he will accomplish, is not the one they’ve been waiting for, for hundreds of years…His victory will not be over the Romans and Israel’s enemies. The salvation he brings is not from oppression at the hands of their opponents…

The victory he brings is over the great enemy—Satan, sin, and death—and that’s the reason why we call this the Triumphal Entry—because after his 3 ½ year mission anticipating this crucial moment, Jesus finally arrives at the place of his destiny where he will conquer the great enemy, death, finally and victoriously—in Jerusalem.

That’s what we remember and celebrate on Palm Sunday—the arrival of the Messiah-King at the place of his earthly destiny, having come down from heaven and his throne in eternity to accomplish the victory upon which all of humanity depends and in which all of humanity’s hopes, lie—finally, once for all, and one for all—atonement for sin—for all who would believe—on the cross—shattering the power of death—and guaranteeing it by his redeeming resurrection from the dead, on the third day.