The Eastern Gate Is Shut: Reflections on Palm Sunday

It was hot, steep, and dusty when I hiked the Mount of Olives. The stone underfoot felt ancient, like it remembered what most of us have forgotten. And when I reached the summit and looked out across the valley, I saw it—Jerusalem, gleaming under the midday sun. The Temple Mount, the gray stones of the Eastern Wall, and there, half-buried and firmly sealed, was the Eastern Gate.

You might miss its meaning if you don’t know your Bible. Or you might wonder, as I did, why it’s walled shut and why a Muslim cemetery lies in front of it. In 1541, Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent heard the Jews believed their Messiah would come from the Mount of Olives and enter the city through that gate. So he ordered it sealed with stone and planted a graveyard in front of it. His logic was simple and superstitious: a priest cannot pass through the dead without becoming unclean. Seal the gate, scatter the bones, and maybe you’ll keep the King out.

But he was already too late.

Because on the day we call Palm Sunday, Jesus Christ—God in the flesh—descended that very mountain, crossed the Kidron Valley, and entered the city from the east. He came not with armies, but riding a colt. The people shouted, "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!" (Luke 19:38). The Glory of the Lord had returned to the temple. Just as Ezekiel saw in his vision: the gate facing east was opened for the Lord, and afterward, it was shut (Ezekiel 43:4; 44:2). That prophecy is not waiting to be fulfilled. It was fulfilled when the true King came.

Jesus didn’t sneak in. He didn’t need to. He came as King, Prophet, and Priest—His authority absolute, His purpose unmistakable. That Eastern Gate isn’t sealed because the Messiah hasn’t come. It’s sealed because He has.

The Sovereign Who Commands

Even before He reached Jerusalem, Jesus displayed His authority. He sent His disciples into the village to fetch a colt, one no man had ever ridden. If questioned, they were to say only this: "The Lord has need of it." And it was enough. The owners let the colt go.

Some call it bold. Some call it strange. But it wasn’t theft. It was ownership. Jesus wasn’t asking for a loan. He was claiming what already belonged to Him. The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. And when the Lord says, "I have need of it," the only faithful response is obedience.

And that raises the question: what if God wants to use your stuff?

Not just your donkey or your car, but your time, your weekends, your home, your wallet. Are you like those colt-owners—ready to give when the Lord calls? Or do you pretend that what He gave you belongs to you?

The Worship That Honors

When Jesus rode into the city, the people laid down coats. They lifted up praises. And they made noise. This wasn’t quiet reverence. This was loud, unified, physical worship. They praised Him with everything they had—clothes, voices, and hearts.

True worship is tangible. It doesn’t just sit quietly in the back pew. It kneels. It raises hands. It sings out loud. It opens homes. It gives generously. And above all, it begins with a heart that says, "All I have is Yours, Lord."

We’re not called to whisper our devotion. We’re called to let it ring through the streets. And if we stay silent? The rocks will cry out. But don’t you dare let a stone do your job.

The Warning We Must Heed

But not all rejoiced. The Pharisees stood by, arms crossed and hearts closed. "Teacher, rebuke Your disciples," they said. Jesus’ answer was chilling: "If these become silent, the stones will cry out."

And then Jesus wept.

He looked at Jerusalem and mourned—not for what it had become, but for what it refused to see. "If you had known… the things which make for peace! But now they have been hidden from your eyes" (Luke 19:42).

They missed their moment. Their day of visitation. And judgment followed. In 70 A.D., the Romans crushed the city. Just as Jesus said, not one stone was left upon another.

Don’t be fooled—this warning is for more than ancient Israel. There are some in the Church today who are just as blind. Raised among Bibles, sermons, and sacraments—and yet unmoved. You've seen the palm branches waving and heard the songs of Hosanna, but your heart remains cold.

Friend, if you don’t recognize the King now, there’s no gate, no grave, no good deed that will shield you later.

The Priest Who Cleanses

Jesus didn’t just ride into town to wave and smile. He entered the temple and drove out the corruption. Tables flipped. Merchants scattered. This was priestly work. The temple was meant to be a house of prayer—but they had made it a den of thieves.

And now, Christ purifies a different temple: you. If you are in Him, your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. So let me ask: what tables does Jesus need to overturn in your life? What idols clutter your heart? What sins are stealing worship from God?

The Lord still cleanses. He is still holy. He is still fierce.

Hang On Every Word

As the chapter ends, we read that the people in the temple were “hanging on to every word He said.” That’s what faith looks like. Clinging to Christ like a drowning man clings to a rock in the storm. Not one of His promises will fail you. Not one word will return void.

So hang on.

When you’re tired—hang on. When you’re tempted—hang on. When the world mocks you and your own heart wavers—hang on.

Because the King has come. The gate is shut. The cross has been lifted. And the tomb is empty.

Now is the time of your visitation. Will you recognize Him?