The last time I was homilist was six weeks ago, on the first Sunday of Lent. My question then was: when was the last time you had a really good temptation? I spoke of Lent as an opportunity for good temptations, a time for our testing and learning about where we have been and what we needed to change, to improve. Now here we are, at the ending of Lent. We now begin the week called “holy,” a week that, for some of us, is, indeed, the holiest week of the year. A week of sadness and of celebration, a week of loss and of gain, a week of tremendous contrasts.
We begin this week in praise. We began today’s Eucharistic celebration in a unique way: with a gospel reading. A gospel reading proclaiming the triumphal entry of the Messiah, the Son of David, into Jerusalem. But then, in our second gospel reading, we heard how those same people who shouted out their hosannas, now cry out: “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Those who had heard the words of Jesus the Christ changed their own words from “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” to jeers: “Save yourself now and come down from that cross.” Those who had waved palm branches and placed their cloaks on the ground before him, now spat upon him and pitched clods of dirt at his naked body.
And what about us? How have we changed between the first Sunday of Lent and today, the Sunday of the Lord’s Passion? Have we grown closer to him? Or farther away? Or have we stood still? Do we stand by the road, neither waving palm branches nor pitching dirt? Do we remain silent, neither singing hymns of praise nor shouting curses? Are we among the vast number of those who don’t care one way or the other; who merely go along with the flow; or watch the flow go past us? Do we stand among those who don’t really want to get involved?
Or are we among those who do care; who do want to shout Hosanna to our Lord, but aren’t sure where or how to start? If you are among them, today begins your week – your week to join with those who continue to honor our friend and savior, the one who walks with us on our journey towards God the Father. It is never too late to change. It is never too late to begin. It is never too late to continue.
This week is the week to bring our lenten journey to its completion or to begin it with fresh eyes and ears. To see and hear what is happening around us. To participate, not only in the liturgies of Holy Week, but in the mysteries of the life which surround us.
Thursday evening we begin the three days marking the conclusion of Lent: the Triduum. On that evening at eight o’clock, we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. We recall the evening when Jesus broke bread with his friends and said it was his body to be broken for all of us. The evening when he shared a cup of wine with his friends and declared it was a cup of his blood now shed for the new covenant with God. The evening when he washed the feet of his friends and said we are to do likewise.
The following afternoon, on the Friday called “Good,” we are again invited to walk with him as we recall the final hours of his passion. We will again be invited to participate in the Stations of the Cross here at Christ the Good Shepherd, beginning at 2:30 in the afternoon. That evening, next Friday evening at 8 o’clock, we will once more have the opportunity to wait with those who celebrate his passion and death on the cross. Just as we celebrate on Thursday the gift of his Body and Blood, on Friday we will celebrate the gift of his suffering for each one of us.
On Saturday evening, beginning at 7:30, we will celebrate the meaning of all of this. The meaning of his life, of his teachings, of his suffering, of his death, of his resurrection and continuing life among us. At the Easter Vigil we will welcome those who will be baptized and brought into our Christian family and those who make a profession of faith as full members of our Catholic community. And for those who cannot join in this lengthy celebration, there will be Eucharistic liturgies both here at Christ the Good Shepherd, beginning with a sunrise service at 5:45, and next door at the Jewish synagogue. The times for all of the morning and evening services for Thursday through Sunday are given in today’s bulletin.
During this Triduum, this three-day celebration, we are once more invited to be with Jesus and with his friends, as we recall his last hours in human form, those hours when he shoulders his cross and urges us to carry our own cross. Even now, it is not too late for us to step from our silent places where we now stand and join him; not by merely extolling him with our spoken praises, but by actively helping him carry his cross by what we do for others on the way.
Each year, thousands of Christian pilgrims journey to Jerusalem and walk through the narrow streets where Jesus passed some twenty centuries ago. A few years ago, Karen and I joined several dozen friends from Christ the Good Shepherd and others from different parishes for a visit to the Holy Land. All of us had the gift of walking over those cobbled streets that lead up the hill towards the church of the Holy Sepulcher which marks the site of Golgotha.
As we made the Way of the Cross, we were transported backwards in time. The jeers of the people of twenty centuries ago were now replaced with the calls of shopkeepers urging us to buy their goods. It’s likely the shopkeepers back then also tried to sell their wares to the crowds who watched that man carrying his cross as he stumbled up the hill. The blare of Roman trumpets that cleared his way are now replaced with the blare of rock music coming from portable boom boxes. But the smells remain the same. The air within the narrow, covered arcades still has a mixture of spices and the passage of small donkeys.
But finally, you arrive at the site where Christ was stripped of his garments and nailed to a cross that was dropped with a jarring thud into a hole in the rocky ground, a hole now marked by a silver star into which you can place your hand as you might into an open wound. You can slip, two by two, through a narrow passageway into a closet-size tomb, where you can rest your hand on a smooth slab and remember a man whose body once rested in such a place.
These memories will always be with me, caught in the cobwebs of my mind. But as I think back upon the Way of the Cross, I will remember something even more intimate. For you see, many pilgrim groups carry on their shoulders a large wooden cross as they trudge along those streets of sorrow. However, we did not. On that journey several years ago, we were graced with the presence of a woman in a wheel chair who was accompanied by two of her children on this pilgrimage she had always longed to make. As we ascended those steep streets and climbed the narrow steps along them and, finally, entered the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and mounted the stairs towards Golgotha, there were those among us who carried, not a cross, but a magnificent woman in a wheelchair.
Somehow, I firmly believe this action greatly pleased our cross-bearing redeemer who wants us to join with him in his journey to the kingdom. Our friend who entered Jerusalem with cheers and died on a lonely hill. Our friend who once more urges us to change, to follow him. We are once again invited to spend our time with him; not only during this Holy Week, but for the remaining days of our lives, as Easter people, people of the Resurrection and of the life to come. May your coming week, indeed, be Holy.
Palm Sunday of Our Lord’s Passion; March 23, 1997
Mk 11: 1-10; Is 50: 4-7; Phil 2:6-11; Mk 14:1-47