Palm Sunday (Year A)

Commentary on Matthew 21:1-11; Isaiah 50:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Matthew 26:14—27:66

Some celebrants are tempted to drop preaching a homily today because of the length of the Gospel, not to mention the blessing of palms and a procession. Yet, as this day is the opening of Holy Week, it seems a pity not to say something, by way of introduction, about the meaning of this climax to Lent, and about the celebration of the Paschal Mystery, the high point of our liturgical year. Partly due to traditional and commercial influences, we tend to make more of Christmas than Easter, but in terms of our faith, Christmas only has meaning in the context of what happens in Holy Week and Easter.

The theme of this week and of today’s liturgy is clear. What Jesus experiences for us is a manifestation of God’s overwhelming love for each one of us. Further, by our identifying ourselves with the ‘mystery’ of Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection, we ourselves experience a great liberation, a ‘passover’ from various forms of sin and enslavement to a life of joy and freedom. Certainly our celebration of Holy Week is not just to be one of memories, or even just of thanks, but of entering, together with Jesus, into a new experience of living. It is meant to be real, and not merely religious, pious and devotional make-believe.

Triumph and tragedy
Today’s liturgy combines both a sense of triumph and tragedy. Very importantly, we are reminded at the beginning, that we are about to commemorate the triumph of Christ our King. We do this through the blessing of palms, the procession and the joyful singing. And the celebrant wears red vestments. We need to keep this in mind as we proceed, in the Liturgy of the Word, to hear the long tale of the sufferings and indignities to which Jesus was subjected. It is a tale not relieved—yet—by the proper end of the story: the Resurrection to new life. So as we listen to the Passion story unfolding, let us keep in mind the Hosannas as Jesus our King entered Jerusalem, his city. Very soon it will be difficult to recognise our King in the battered, scourged, crowned-with-thorns, crucified remnant of a human being.

Why did Jesus have to undergo such a terrible fate? Basically, there were two reasons. The first was political—Jesus had become the object of hate and prejudice by people who saw him as a threat to their religious authority and political standing. He had to be gotten rid of one way or another.

But second, what happened was all in accordance with the Father’s will. That is not to say, as some people seem to imply, that God wanted to kill Jesus and engineered everything to happen that way. There are perfectly understandable reasons why Jesus’ behaviour led to his suffering and death.

At the same time, this behaviour was the result of Jesus’ unconditional love for every person he met—including his enemies. And Jesus’ love for everyone was a mirror of the same love of the Father. It was an agape-love so intense that Jesus was ready to sacrifice his own life for it:

No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (John 15:13)

In doing so, Jesus identified with his Father’s will, namely, that all come to be aware of God’s unconditional love for them. (And we might add, we are to have agape-love for those who have made us their enemies as well.)

It is St Paul who says that:

…rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. (Rom 5:7)

But is altogether unusual for one to give up their life for evildoers—and at times, that is what all of us are, in one way or another.

Eyes of faith
What we see in today’s readings is God using perfectly human situations in order to convey, in dramatic fashion, his relationship to us. And it is only with genuine faith that we are able to see the work of God in the tragic death of Jesus. As Paul says:

…we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to gentiles… (1 Cor 1:23)

Today’s readings also tell us that Jesus suffered—and he really did suffer. There are those who tend to minimise the sufferings of Jesus because “after all, he was the Son of God, he had a ‘Divine Nature’.” But this is to deny one of the most central teachings of the New Testament, that Jesus was one hundred percent a human being and, except for sin, shared our human experiences in every way. In fact, as a particularly sensitive human person, it is likely that, when Jesus suffered, his pain was more intense than that of others.

Jesus suffered obviously in his body, and he underwent pain that we might associate with the more barbaric forms of torture in our own day. But he must also have suffered psychologically, and this pain may have been even more intense. He saw his mission collapse all around him in total failure. His disciples had all, for the sake of their own skins, taken to their heels. Would anyone remember anything he taught or did? There was, at this special time of need, a terrible loneliness. His disciples fell asleep in the garden when he especially needed their support. They ran off as soon as people came to arrest Jesus. Even the Father seems to be silent—the Father who could send legions of angels to rescue him, but apparently did nothing.

There is the final poignant cry from the cross:

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Yet through it all, Jesus’ dignity, power and authority keep shining through, making his captors seem to be the ones on the defensive. After the prayer in the garden, Jesus stands up to face those arresting him full of an inner strength and authority. He stands in silent dignity before his judges, refusing to be intimidated. In the midst of his own pain and indignities, he can continue to think of the needs of others and can, after his own teaching, pray for and forgive his enemies.

How were we saved?
How did Jesus save us? Was it because he suffered and died for us? Was it because he made the ultimate sacrifice? Was it not because, in the words of the Second Reading from Philippians, he “emptied himself” totally and in so doing became filled with the Spirit of his Father? He clung to nothing; he let go of everything (that is what we find so hard to do).

In today’s Gospel reading, Matthew says that at the moment of his death, Jesus “breathed his last”—that he gave up his spirit and died. But it also has the other meaning that the life, sufferings and death of Jesus, when properly understood, released a power into the world, the power of the Spirit of God, a Spirit with which Jesus himself was filled. Jesus’ followers will soon also become filled with that Spirit.

Jesus’ disciples, energised by the power of their Lord and Master, will go through similar experiences to his. They, like Jesus in the garden, will be filled with fear, but later on, they will be filled with a fearless courage and joy. No matter who threatens them, no matter that they are thrown into jail or that members of their communities are murdered and executed, they will continue to preach fearlessly the gospel of Truth and Love. The Passion and death of Jesus, which we commemorate today, was not, in the end, a sign of failure. It was Jesus’ moment of triumph and victory. The same can be said of the long line of martyrs and witnesses over more than 2,000 years.

So, as we participate in the liturgy of Holy Week, let us not concentrate simply on the sufferings of Jesus as if there was something good about suffering. Those sufferings only have meaning because they lead to resurrection, new life and new joy. The pain and sufferings of our lives are not the punishments of God, still less are they to be sought out. Suffering, pain, sickness are not in themselves desirable. They become, however, sources of good when they help us to become more mature, more loving, more caring, more sympathetic people—in other words when they lead us to be more like Jesus himself, when they lead to our own liberation and the liberation of others.

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Palm Sunday (Year C)

Commentary on Isaiah 50:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Luke 22:14—23:56

After five weeks of preparation we now enter the climax of the Lenten season and what we call Holy Week. In a way, the whole week from today until Easter Sunday should be seen as one unit—the presentation of the Paschal Mystery. This Paschal Mystery includes the suffering, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus into glory and the sending of the Spirit on the disciples of Jesus to continue the work he began. Although it is, for liturgical and catechetical reasons, spread over a period of seven weeks, it should also be seen as an indivisible single experience. This week sees the climax of the mission of Jesus Christ in which the deepest meaning of his life is unfolded, and in which his teaching becomes incarnated in his own words and actions.

Today’s celebration (for, strange to say, the terrible happenings we are about to listen to are truly a cause for celebration on our part) is divided into two distinct parts: the procession with palms and the Mass proper. (The particular Mass you attend may not include both parts, as many parishes will only do the first part at one of the day’s Masses.)

Joy and triumph
In the first part the prevailing atmosphere is one of joy, and the vestments in today’s liturgy are a triumphant red and not the violet which has prevailed during the other days of Lent. And the reading from the Gospel in this first part recalls the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem as King. He gets a rapturous reception from the crowd who acclaim him with words we still use in the “Holy, holy, holy…” of the preface to the Eucharistic Prayer. This scene is important, for in a few days’ time, the same triumphant Jesus will be reduced to a battered wreck of humanity:

So Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Behold the man!” [Latin, Ecce homo!].

As we process through our church, with our palms (or their equivalent) in our hands, we too may sing with enthusiasm:

“Christ conquers, Christ is king, Christ is our ruler”
(Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat).

There is a difference in our case for we know the end of the story and what is to come. Because of that, we sing with even greater conviction about the greatness of Jesus and a realisation of just why he is our King.

But even here there is shadow. For not all are spreading their clothes on the ground for Jesus to walk over or waving their branches. His enemies are watching and what they see only gives greater urgency to their desire to see the end of Jesus. In one way, they will succeed with a frightening ruthlessness to destroy Jesus. But of course, they will also fail utterly. Our presence here today is proof enough of that.

The mind of Christ
In a way, the real key to Holy Week is given in today’s Second Reading, which seems to be a hymn, incorporated by Paul in his letter to the Christians at Philippi, in northern Greece. It expresses the ‘mind’, the thinking of Jesus, a mind which Paul urges us to have also if we want to identify fully with Jesus as disciples:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…
(Phil 2:5)

The key word in today’s passage from Paul is “emptied.” This kenosis, or emptying, is at the heart of Jesus’ experience during his Passion.

In spite of Jesus’ identity with the nature of God, he did not insist on his status. He first of all took on himself in the fullest sense our human nature:

…who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. (Heb 4:15)

But even more, he reached down to the lowest level, the lowest class of human beings—the servant, the slave. That was still not the end. He let go of all human dignity, all human rights; he let go of life itself to die, not any “respectable” form of death, but the death of a convicted criminal in shame and nakedness and total abandonment.

To understand the sufferings, death and resurrection of Jesus one must fully grasp what Paul is saying here and, not only grasp it, but totally appropriate it into one’s own thinking so that one would be prepared, with God’s help, to go exactly the same way. Our normal sensitivities over even trifling hurts show us just how far we have to go to have the “mind of of the Lord.”

With the focus of the first two readings, we are now—hopefully—prepared for listening to Luke’s version of the Passion of Jesus, up to, but excluding the climax of resurrection.

So much to reflect on
Although efforts are now made to make the listening to the Passion less of an endurance test, there really is too much to be fully digested as we stand listening to one or three readers. Perhaps we should set aside a short period later in the day to go through the dramatic telling more at our leisure. Or perhaps we could focus on a particular passage which speaks to us more at this time.

There is:

• the last meal of Jesus with his disciples—a bitter-sweet experience for all;
• Jesus’ struggle with fear (even terror) and loneliness in the garden, ending in a sense of peace and acceptance;
• Peter’s denial of ever having known Jesus, the same Jesus with whom he had just eaten and who had invited him into the garden;
• the kiss of Judas, another disciple, sealing the fate of Jesus, and leading to bitter remorse and suicide;
• the rigged trial before the religious leaders and again before the contemptuous, cynical Pilate and the brief appearance before the superstitious and fearful Herod;
• the torture, humiliation and degradation of Jesus;
• the way of Calvary—the weeping women and the reluctant Simon of Cyrene;
• the crowds, so supportive on Sunday, who now laugh and mock;
• the murderous gangster promised eternal happiness that very day;
• the last words of forgiveness and total surrender (emptying) to the Father.

The drama is truly overpowering and needs really to be absorbed one incident at a time. It would be worth reflecting in which of these scenes I can see myself—with which characters I can identify as reacting in the way I probably would.

 Jesus—the focal point
Through it all there is Jesus. His enemies humiliate him, strike him and scourge him. Soldiers make a crown with thorns, a crown for the “King of the Jews” (an element of contemptuous racism here?), and Herod mocks him. Pilate, Roman-trained, makes a half-hearted attempt at justice, but his fear for his career prevails.

Jesus, for his part, does not strike back; he does not scold; he does not accuse or blame. He begs his Father to:

…forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.

Jesus seems to be the victim, but all through he is, in fact, the Master. He is master of the situation because he is master of himself.

So, as we go through this day and this week, let us look very carefully at Jesus our Saviour. We watch, not just to admire, but also to learn, and to penetrate the mind, the thinking, the attitudes and the values of Jesus so that we, in the very different circumstances of our own lives, may walk in his footsteps.

If we are to be his disciples, he invites us to walk his way, to share his sufferings, to imitate his attitudes, to ‘empty’ ourselves, to live in service of others—in short, to love others as he loves us. This is not at all a call to a life of pain and misery. Quite the contrary, it is an invitation to a life of deep freedom, peace and happiness. If it were anything else, it would not be worth considering.

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The Exaltation of the Holy Cross – Readings

(Note:When this feast is celebrated on a weekday, there is a choice of readings before the Gospel. If the feast falls on a Sunday, both readings are read.)

Commentary on Numbers 21:4-9; Philippians 2:6-11; John 3:13-17

The Gospel reading is from John. He compares Jesus’ being lifted up on the Cross to the incident in the Book of Numbers (one of today’s Readings), where a plague of serpents is sent against the Israelites because of their constant complaining against God. When they beg Moses for help, God tells him to put an image of a serpent on a pole. All those who look at the bronze serpent would be healed.

In a much more radical way, Jesus is also lifted up so:

…that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

And this life comes because Jesus’ giving of his life on the Cross is a sign of his Father’s love for each and every one of us. For, as Jesus will tell his disciples at the Last Supper:

No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (John 15:13)

And in today’s reading he also says:

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.

The word “Exaltation” in the name of today’s feast means a ‘lifting up’, and in the Gospel of John, Jesus says that he, being “lifted up” will draw all peoples to himself. This ‘lifting up’ refers not only to Jesus’ being physically raised on the Cross. In John’s presentation of the Paschal Mystery, Jesus dies on the Cross, passes to new life (Resurrection), returns to the Father (Ascension), and breathes forth the Spirit (Pentecost). Jesus is totally ‘exalted’ on the Cross.

The Second Reading is from the Letter of Paul to the Philippians and contains the famous kenosis hymn about Jesus. Kenosis means an ‘emptying’. Jesus was the Incarnate Son of God and shared the divinity with his Father and the Spirit on an equal level. Yet, in order to bring us salvation and life without end, Jesus:

…emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
assuming human likeness.

He did this in service to us. He adopted our human condition totally and he even went lower than this by submitting to one of the most terrible forms of death, death by crucifixion. And all of this was to help us understand the extent of his Father’s love for each one of us.

Because of this self-giving and self-emptying:

Therefore God exalted him even more highly
and gave him the name
that is above every other name,
so that at the name given to Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

Hence, the Cross is a much esteemed symbol for Christians everywhere and a way by which they express their faith. We place a cross in our churches and homes, in the classrooms of our schools and in other Christian institutions. Many wear a cross as part of their dress.

We remember Jesus’ words to his followers:

…whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. (Matt 10:38-39)

As we often sing after the Consecration during the Eucharist:

Dying, you destroyed our death; rising you restored our life.

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Palm Sunday (Year B)

Commentary on Mark 11:1-10; Isaiah 50:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Mark 14:1-15:47

(Note: The First and Second Readings are the same every year, but the entrance Gospel and the Passion account are taken from a different Gospel: Year A, Matthew; Year B, Mark; Year C, Luke. The Passion from John’s Gospel is read on Good Friday.)

We should see this week as a single unit, summed up under the phrase “Paschal Mystery”. It includes the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus, as well as his ascension and the sending of the Holy Spirit. In fact, all these elements can actually be seen present on the cross on Good Friday.

Triumph and tragedy
The two Gospel readings present contrasting pictures of a day encompassing both triumph and tragedy. From the first Gospel reading, we see the joy of Jesus entering Jerusalem and getting an enthusiastic welcome from the crowds:

Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!

These are words we continue to sing during the Eucharistic Prayer at every Mass. But the picture very soon changes to darkness, to suffering and death.

Having the mind of Christ
Our key to understanding this week is in today’s Second Reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians:

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus…[He] emptied himself, taking the form of a slave…

Though Jesus was in the form of God, he went down to the lowest depths of degradation and humiliation, dying naked and as a convicted criminal.

God’s love for us
This is the measure of his love for us – laying down his life for his friends – an expression of God’s love. And because of the intensity of the love he showed, he is swept up into the glory of God. This is so that we, too, may follow.

But on the way, we also have to be ready to empty ourselves in love for him and to be totally at the service of our brothers and sisters. As Adam was created in the divine image and likeness, so Jesus was ‘in the form of God’. Yet unlike Adam, he did not grasp at Godhead; he resisted the urgings of the catechesis of evil. He did not sin.

He freely chose to enter into the condition of the sinful human being, to go to the very bedrock of human destitution which comes as a result of ‘grasping’- the great emblems of which are slavery and death. Where this happens to the sinful, grasping human being as a result of sin, Jesus freely chose to take upon himself a disfigurement which he had in no way merited.

He did this in obedience to a divine plan, a plan which would have him go to the depths of human destitution so that God might transform the destitution and lead the human being back to the Garden [of Eden]. Jesus appeared in the form of the sinful human being. He appeared as a slave, choosing the powerlessness of the one who has no will of his own.

The depth of Jesus’ love
Jesus went more deeply still into human destitution: he who was son became not only a slave, but also a corpse. In words that describe Jesus, the prophet Isiah says:

I gave my back to those who struck me,
and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face
from insult and spitting.

Jesus chose to enter into an utter powerlessness, and in accepting the most ignominious death known to the ancient world, he went to the bedrock of the destitution and disfigurement caused by sin.

And it was there that he was met by a God whom he could see as he entered the darkness. He was met by a God who moved as power in the utter powerlessness of the Crucified. He was met by a God who was power enough to lead Jesus (and with him humanity) back to the Garden; a God who gave him his true name; a God who restored to him the lordship proper to the human being (Gen 1:28); a God who restored him to the glory which was always the Creator’s intention, the glory which in no way contends with the glory of God (as the catechesis of evil had claimed, either God’s glory or your glory), but a glory which redounds to the glory of God the Father.

Paul will put this more enigmatically:

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
(2 Cor 5:21)

The question here is what Paul means by ‘righteousness’. To be made righteous is to be restored to that right relationship which is the essence of the life of Eden.

Life outside the Garden is a life of wrong relationship – between God and the human being, between human beings, between human beings and creation. Life in the Garden is the life of right relationship, with the human being finding his or her right place within the scheme of things in a way that Adam and Eve did not.

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