| First
Reading | Psalm | Epistle | Gospel |
| Isaiah 50:4–9a |
|
Philippians 2:5–11 |
Matthew 26:14–27:66 |
According to the popular folklore of Jesus' time, the Messiah was expected to appear in time for the celebration of Passover, and enter Jerusalem through an entrance facing the Mount of Olives known as the Golden Gate, in full triumphal acclaim. Jesus indeed seemed to have had a brief moment of minor fame as he was greeted by pilgrims on the road into Jerusalem. In the days that followed, however, his actions hardened the resolve of his enemies and gained few supporters. A close disciple betrayed him. His other followers fled in fear. After his arrest no one spoke on his behalf. In the Gospel of Matthew, both of the thieves that were executed at his sides, jeered him.
Today, as Christians have done for centuries, we are invited to participate in a journey of Holy Week. Now there is plenty of reason to despair in this world. Conflicts seem to fester and return in more virulent forms. Violence and hatred abound unabated. Yet when all our words and our best intentions fail, when our spirits sink, when we wonder if there is any worthwhile future left, we are called to believe in a hope in spite of no visible evidence of such hope.
The important thing about the story of the passion isn't in the details of torture, but in Jesus' example. In the passion account, the words of Jesus are few, but he nevertheless remains as the prominent and enduring presence. Jesus did not recant or abdicate the Gospel. Jesus did not allow his personhood to be taken away. He refused to let others beat his spirit into submission and degradation. Jesus never compromised his basic integrity. Jesus never offered an example of groveling before evil.
When they came to arrest him, a sword was drawn in his defense, and a solder was injured. What did Jesus do? He healed the soldier's ear and demanded the sword be put away. As he came before all who would play a part in his arrest and execution, he didn't mince words about the truth, but he didn't invoke divine curses or threaten revenge either. Rather as he hung on the cross, he stretched out his arms in reconciliation. No one was beyond the reach of his saving embrace. No one!
The example of Jesus of refusing to use the sword of violence on his enemies tells us that when those in the church fashion the cross as a weapon to beat shame or guilt into others, they are taking a wrong turn, down a road leading far away from the Gospel inevitably to tragic consequences. When the cross becomes an instrument of recrimination, a whip of manipulation, or justification for bigotry, it is not the cross of Christ.
That is why the passion is not simply a road to suffering, but a way through suffering. We are witnesses to Jesus example of his saving and universal embrace. We are not called to be avengers of his suffering, but strong witnesses to his firm dignity and ultimate victory over suffering and the evil in this world. If we don't first affirm that Jesus lives by his example, the remembrance of Jesus' death holds little meaning.
People of faith are those who take the notes of living hope out of thin air, and compose the anthem of God's amazing grace. When there is nothing left, people of faith are called to sing, to sing god's song, of deliverance, of forgiveness, and reconciliation. That is why it is not enough to remember and mourn Jesus' death and recall his torture. We are here because we are called to be witnesses of the example of Jesus in our lives—past, present, and ever after.
I offer you this in the name of the Spirit of the living God, on this Sunday of the reading of the Passion.
