The tradition of the Roman triumph was part political spectacle, part cultural reinforcement, and part religious ritual. Like many of the traditions of Rome, its origins are difficult to trace. The most recent scholarship on the Triumph suggests that it was a ritual continually being reinvented—a way of connecting the present to a mythological past. The best-known triumphs are set in the period of Republican strain—the first century BC, when, over the course of several decades, irresistible pressure transformed the Republic into an imperial system. Triumphs always served the purpose of connecting the victories and glories of the Romans to the divine favor of the gods. There was a tension in this, however: was it meant to remind the victorious general that he owed his glory to the gods of the people, or to demonstrate to the people the divine favor the gods had bestowed upon the general?
Perhaps the ritual began as a political spectacle that emphasized the republic at the expense of the potential tyrant (for such victorious consul-generals always were). But by its very nature, the Triumph tended to glorify not the gods but the individual—perhaps inevitably. It was the general who was cheered and paraded through the city; all of it was for him. Hence, under the Empire, the triumph became a vehicle of validation for the ruler. The emperor solidified his reign through a victory that provided the pretext for the triumph.
In the early days of the church, even while the Roman Empire still existed, Christians recognized the similarity between the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem during Holy Week and the Roman ritual of triumphs. By tradition, this event became known as the “Triumphal Entry.” At least some—perhaps most—of the Jews in Jerusalem would have been familiar, to some degree, with the Roman practice. Is Jesus self-consciously imitating aspects of the Roman Triumph? Or does he have a different antecedent in mind?
There are some similarities. Both involved a procession through the city and the heralding of the crowds. Both featured a mounted figure, and both culminated at the highest point of the city, entering into a temple. There are many differences, however. Roman triumphs involved the spoils of war and a massive parade, with much of Rome’s leadership participating. Jesus rides alone. The Triumph lasted for days and involved multiple connected events such as feasts and games; Jesus moves relatively quickly to the temple. The triumphator would be elaborately dressed and ride in a chariot; Jesus is dressed as he always was and rides on a beast of burden. Perhaps more significantly, triumphs followed major victories and were the apex of those victories. Is Jesus connecting his ministry in Galilee, which preceded the entry, to a military victory?
There is enough in common that it seems likely Jesus is at least intending to evoke the Roman triumph. To enter a city, travel through it, and be hailed by the crowds—this was the substance of the Triumph. It is unlikely that any other contemporary ritual is in view. There is little precedent in Israel’s history for this. Solomon rides a donkey through the city at his father’s command, but he does so on the way to a coronation outside the city. Perhaps this is simply a reference to the kind of welcome victorious rulers receive when entering a city where their authority is recognized. Here, then, are the elements:
The Mount — The donkey was the mount of the royal house of David. It symbolized the servant-rule of Israel’s kings, as well as the humility of the king himself. It is important to distinguish here between the audacity of the claim and the intentional humility of its presentation. Jesus is bold in his claim to power even as he reaffirms a radically different vision for how power is exercised.
The Cry — The cry of the people is one of expectation and hope, not recognition of a completed victory. They call upon the Son of David, the Messiah, to save them. They recognize him according to his claim and urge him to fulfill it. “Hosanna” looks forward, not back.
The Destination — In the end, Jesus proceeds to a new kind of place. The kings of Israel did not reign from the temple, nor did they claim ownership or authority over it. They served the temple but were not pontifex rex in the manner of Eastern and Roman kings. Yet Jesus enters the temple and asserts a kind of lordship over it.
All of this serves as a prelude to what is to come—his death and resurrection. This, in the end, is his victory. If we are looking for a closer analogue to the Roman Triumph, it is perhaps found not here, but in his ascension.