PALM SUNDAY: Is 50:4-7; Phil 2:6-11; Mk 11:1-10 (Procession); Mk 14:1–15:47 (Holy Mass)

Some years ago, a book was written by a noted American historian entitled “When the Cheering Stopped”. It was the story of President Woodrow Wilson and the events leading up to, and following World War I. When that war was over, Wilson, the 28th president of the United States was an international hero. There was a great spirit of optimism abroad, and people actually believed that the last war had been fought, and the world had been made safe for democracy. On his first visit to Paris after the war, Wilson was greeted by cheering mobs. He was actually more popular than France’s own heroes. The same thing was true in England and Italy. The cheering lasted about a year. Then it gradually began to stop. At home, Woodrow Wilson ran into opposition in the United States Senate, and his League of Nations was not ratified. Under the strain of it all, the President’s health began to break. In the next election his party was defeated. So it was that Woodrow Wilson, a man who barely a year or two earlier had been heralded as the new world Messiah, came to the end of his days a broken and defeated man. — It’s a sad story, but one that is not altogether unfamiliar. The ultimate reward for someone who tries to translate ideals into reality is apt to be frustration and defeat. It happened that way to Jesus. When He emerged on the public scene, He was an overnight sensation. On Palm Sunday, leafy palm branches were spread before Him and there were shouts of “Hosanna.” But before it was all over, a tidal wave of manipulated opposition had welled up that brought Jesus to the cross.

With Palm Sunday we begin Holy Week by remembering the Lord’s Passion. The word “Passion,” like the word “love,” is a used and abused term in our day. When we speak of Passion in the case of what Our Lord underwent there’s room for multiple understandings of passion. He shows us passion in all the facets we should live it.

The Suffering Servant in today’s First Reading shows Our Lord put up no struggle and went as a lamb to the slaughter (cf. Is 53:7). (If you get a chance to notice different animals being taken for slaughter you will notice that animals, like pig, would squeal and squeak when taken to slaughter. But a lamb or sheep would go silently to the slaughter).

Passion means suffering. In his Passion we see Isaiah’s parable of the Suffering Servant fulfilled. Passion meant having something done to you, and not necessarily something pleasant.  

In today’s Second Reading Paul reminds us that a passion for others is what drove Our Lord to empty himself by assuming human nature and undergoing the Passion. It was not a passion for honors; he already had them. It was not a passion for gain; as God, he already had everything and needed nothing. It was not a passion to excel; he was the Son of God in eternity before he was born of Mary. It was a passion for his Father and us.

Passion means emotion; in Luke’s account of the Last Supper, Our Lord expresses how ardently he desired to be with his disciples before suffering. The betrayal and abandonment by his disciples and the torture and ridicule he underwent made his passion intense.

Most importantly, Passion means love. People are encouraged today to be passionate about what they do.

The mystery of Christ’s Passion shows us that it is not so much loving what we’re doing as loving those for whom we’re doing it. 

We may not love the cross, but we take up our cross daily for those we love.  Jesus loves us through the Cross and undergoes the Passion to teach us what passion truly is.

As we follow Our Lord, step by step to Calvary, ask him to show us for whom he is suffering: You and me.

May this Holy Week help us to follow Christ passionately for the passion and suffering he endured for us.

 

LENT V [B]: Jer 31:31-34; Heb 5:7-9; Jn 12:20-33

Several years ago Catherine Marshall wrote an article called “When We Dare to Trust God”. She told how she had been bed-bound for six months with a serious lung infection. No amount of medication or prayer helped. She was terribly depressed. One day someone gave her a pamphlet about a woman missionary who had contracted a strange disease. The missionary had been sick for eight years and couldn’t understand why God let this tragedy happen to her. Daily she prayed for health to resume her work. But her prayers were unanswered. One day, in desperation, she cried out to God: “All right I give up. If You want me to be an invalid, that’s Your business!” Within two weeks that missionary was fully recovered. Catherine Marshall was puzzled by that strange story. It didn’t make sense. “Yet” she said, “I couldn’t forget that story.” Then one morning Catherine cried out to God: “God I’m tired of asking you for health. You decide if You want me sick or healthy.” At that moment, Catherine said later, her health began to return. — The story of that missionary woman and the story of Catherine Marshall illustrate what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel. “Unless a grain of wheat dies, it cannot bear fruit.” Or to put it another way, unless we die to our own will, we cannot bear fruit for God.

 

During his public ministry, Jesus had made it clear that one condition for being his follower was bearing the cross. "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross every day and follow me" (Lk 9:23). As his passion draws near, he energetically reiterates this same condition: "Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit."

To be a Christian is to be where Christ is: "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be." And where is Christ? He is always pouring out his life for others on the cross, giving himself for the good of others through self-forgetful love. The Eucharist is the extension throughout history of Christ's self-sacrifice on Calvary. And so, that's also where we should be: giving our lives for God and our neighbors.

Christ's great commandment was to love others as he has loved us. He taught this lesson by example on the cross, and with words during the Last Supper: "A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends" (Jn 15:13). St Paul learned this lesson well; he was always talking about the cross. He wrote to the Corinthians: "...the only knowledge I claimed to have was about Jesus, and only about him as the crucified Christ" (1 Cor 2:2). As followers of Christ, we should expect crosses, difficulties, and even, at times, persecution.

To be a true Christian involves not just wearing a crucifix or hanging one on the wall, but bearing the sign of the cross in the very marrow of our lives. All Christians bear the sign of the cross on their souls, even before they experience persecution and suffering in their life. Our souls are actually sealed, stamped, with the sign of Christ in two sacraments that we all receive: baptism and confirmation.

Even if a baptized and confirmed Christian rejects his friendship with Christ later on, dies without repenting, and ends up in hell, he will still bear the seals of baptism and confirmation on his soul. The demons will be able to recognize that he had been a Christian.

In ancient Rome, the soldiers of the Emperor used to receive a permanent, tattoo-like mark on their shoulder.  It was a sign of their special identity and mission - Roman soldiers, even after their time of service was finished, retained many privileges and responsibilities in the Empire. They also carried a special lead seal around their neck, which was used as a kind of passport throughout their travels. When we were baptized, we were marked in our very soul with the sign of Christ - he became our Lord, protector, and Savior, snatching us out of Satan's grasp.

And then, when the bishop made the sign of the cross on our forehead with the sacred chrism at confirmation, we were sealed as Christ's soldiers, with all the privileges and responsibilities that entails. Whether or not we believe in Christ, we will still have to bear crosses.

Life in a fallen world is full of crosses, no matter what. No one is an exception when it comes to suffering and struggling in life. But as Catholics, members of Christ's mystical body, we can find meaning in these crosses. The trick to doing that is to carry them with Christ, instead of trying to carry them alone. The cross that Jesus carried wasn't really his cross. He had never sinned, never had a selfish thought or performed an evil act. The cross that he carried, the sin that he atoned for, was ours. And this is our comfort: we are never alone. In the midst of life's joys, Jesus is at our side. And in the midst of life's crosses, Jesus is also at our side. The cross becomes unbearable and unfruitful only when we forget this. So, the key question is: How can we remember?  How can we avoid the deep frustration and sadness that come from trying to carry our crosses alone? We must become men and women of prayer. Prayer must become as important for our souls as breathing is for our bodies. There is no other way.

Jesus is with us now, because we are gathered in his name. And through the Eucharist he is about to come among us in an even deeper way. As he does, let's pray as the Greek visitors in the gospel prayed: "Father, we would like to see Jesus, so that we never have to carry our crosses alone.