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As a child attending the Mass of the
Lord’s Passion on Palm Sunday, I was struck by the remarkable dissonance of two
things: At the beginning, the congregation holds palm branches and sings, “Hosanna
to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King
of Israel. Hosanna in the highest,” while commemorating Jesus’ entry into
Jerusalem. Perhaps 20 minutes later (more or less), the same congregation, with
upheld fists (figuratively speaking), cries out in unison, “Crucify him!” during
the Passion account.
As an adult, that still makes me
uncomfortable—and it should.
Meditating on this year’s account of the
Passion for Palm Sunday (Mark 14:1 – 15:47), one cannot help but notice the
instances of outright cruelty to which Jesus is subjected by his enemies. Motivated by jealousy, fear,
and ignorance, they testify falsely against him, strike him, scourge him, spit
on him, mock him, and taunt him, before finally killing him. Such things,
unfortunately, can be expected of enemies.
But what of Jesus’ friends and followers—how
are they portrayed? Judas betrays
him, hands Jesus over to his enemies, seemingly motivated by greed. He is “one
of the Twelve,” as Mark tells us repeatedly, which means he was an apostle,
hand-picked by Jesus to accompany and assist him in his mission. These Twelve
spent a lot of time together with Jesus, and knew each other well. Judas was a
member of the “inner circle,” and is described by Jesus as, “one of the Twelve,
the one who dips with me into the dish.”
Led by Peter, the other eleven apostles vow
that they will stand by Jesus come what may—even if it costs them their very
lives. They are quite sincere in this resolution when they object to Jesus’ prediction
that “all of you will have your faith shaken.” Almost immediately, Jesus’ words
prove true. His three closest companions—Peter, James, and John—cannot stay
awake in the garden of Gethsemane to console and comfort Jesus, who confides in
them, “my soul is sorrowful even to death.” Three times, he asks them to keep
watch with him, and three times they fail their sorrowful friend in his need.
After Judas leads Jesus’ enemies to him
(betraying him with a kiss, no less), and Jesus is taken into custody, arises
what I think is the most disheartening statement in the whole account: They all left him and fled. Surely, no
one could expect Jesus’ followers to have taken on the armed mob in defense of
their teacher. But true disciples, true friends, would surely at least remain
by Jesus’ side during his ordeal, even if they were helpless to change his
lot—wouldn’t they? And yet, out of fear for their own lives, and despite their earlier promises, they all abandoned Jesus when things got rough for him. I imagine
this cut Jesus to the heart—all his friends and followers left him utterly
alone in the grip of his tormentors (in human terms, at least; he was, of
course, always in the Father’s hands).
A little later, Peter, the apostle whom
Jesus had earlier called “the rock [upon which] I will build my church”
(Matthew 16:18), denies even knowing Jesus—not once or twice, but three times.
Then, of course, there is the crowd
before Pontius Pilate, pleading with the Roman governor to release a hardened
criminal rather than Jesus. “Crucify him!” they shout. I can’t help but wonder
how many people in this crowd on Good Friday, thirsting (for whatever reason)
for the self-proclaimed Messiah’s blood, also were among those on Palm Sunday
singing, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” More than
a few, I’d wager.
And so the drama continues to this very
day. It seems to me that even the “best” of Christians are studies in
contradiction. We are Jesus’ present-day disciples, followers, and friends, all
chosen by him. We profess Christ, we claim to adore Christ, and even preach
Christ. And yet, with the same mouth with which we “bless the Lord and Father,” “we curse human beings who are made in the
likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing” (James 3:9-10).
Motivated by various factors, just like
those followers of Jesus 2,000 years ago, we choose evil over good, or fail to
do the Christian thing in our actions and interactions with one another. We
betray Christ in one another, we fail to “keep watch” with Christ for one
another, we abandon Christ in one another. In multiple ways, given the choice,
we deny even knowing Christ, and yes, at times, we even shout unconsciously,
“Crucify him!” Even though we’ve vowed to follow Christ to the death, we’d really
rather do things our own way, look out for Number One. We all do this, each and every day—and we are not Jesus’ enemies,
but consider ourselves his friends!
Even so, at the foot of the Cross, hope
springs from some unlikely sources after Jesus breathes his last. A
centurion—i.e., a pagan, an “enemy”—has a revelation. “Truly, this man was the
Son of God!” he proclaims. Several women, those who “had followed him” and
“ministered to him,” remain present at the scene—one that Jesus’ male followers had long since abandoned.
Then, Joseph of Arimathea—according to Mark’s Gospel, a member of the very
Sanhedrin that had condemned Jesus—summons the courage to ask for Jesus’ body
and has it laid in a tomb, where several women keep watch. According to the
various gospel accounts, it is these women who, three days later, bring news of
Jesus’ resurrection to the Eleven apostles (who require considerable convincing).
It is these tiny seeds of faith that are
watered by Jesus’ blood shed on the Cross, the blood of which Jesus told his sincere
but unfaithful friends at the Last Supper, “This is my blood of the covenant,
which will be shed for many. Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the
fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God”
(Mark 14:24-25). And they all drank from the cup with Jesus—all those who would
eventually betray him, fail him, abandon him, and deny him. All those, who
through the power of the Holy Spirit, would later become fearless pillars of
the church.
On this Palm Sunday, and as we begin
Holy Week, let us gratefully reflect on this mystery of our faith—those of us
who drink from the same cup, who call ourselves disciples, followers, and
friends of Jesus. The tension of “Hosanna!” and “Crucify him!” will be there,
to be sure. Yet, this only serves to remind us of our absolute need for salvation. Let us present that
need to Jesus, as did Peter and the other apostles, and trust in God’s undying
mercy. As St. Paul writes, “God proves his love for us in that while we were
still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).
Mysteriously, the very blood Christ
sheds on the Cross as a result of our sins is the blood that saves us. God
gives his very life for ours. If we truly believe in this Love, we will be
transformed by it as were Jesus’ very first friends and followers. What’s more,
we will be transformed into it. The piercing
thorns become lush palm branches on the Tree of Life.
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