Cycle C

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, Cycle C

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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 for understandings of passion. Passion meant suffering; Our Lord suffered a great deal for us. Passion meant having something done to you, and not necessarily something pleasant; Our Lord put up no struggle and went as a lamb to the slaughter (cf. Isaiah 53:7), the Suffering Servant in today’s First Reading.

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. Passions can be good or bad; he was passionate about his cause, and we can only imagine the emotions he was experiencing knowing one of his most trusted friends would betray him, experiencing the fear in Gethsemane of what he was going to undergo, feeling the betrayal and abandonment by his disciples when things became dangerous, and the torture and ridicule he experienced.

Lastly, and most importantly for today’s liturgy, Passion means love. People are encouraged today to be passionate about what they do, and to change what they’re doing if they’re not. We’re expected to love what we do and we consider people blessed who love what they do. However, the mystery of Christ’s Passion shows us that it is not so much loving what you’re doing as those whom you love and for whom you are doing what you’re doing. You probably don’t love changing diapers, but you change them because you love your baby. Your job may be tedious or grueling, but you do it to love your family and provide for them. You may not love the cross, but you take up your cross daily for those you love. Jesus love us through the Cross.

Holy Week has begun. In imitation of Christ in these days, contemplate not what you love or don’t love, but whom you are loving through what you do. As we follow Our Lord, step by step, blow by blow, to Calvary, ask him to show you for whom he is suffering: you.

Readings: Isaiah 50:4–7; Psalm 22:8–9, 17–20, 23–24; Philippians 2:6–11; Luke 22:14–23:56. See also Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion (Cycle B).

 

5th Week of Lent, Monday

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In today’s First Reading the people of Israel believed the corrupt old judges’ testimony, and the Lord intervened through young Daniel to prove that it was false. In today’s Gospel the religious authorities claim that Jesus’ testimony, from a legal perspective, doesn’t have enough witnesses to corroborate it. Jesus responds, independent of legal technicalities, that his testimony is true. In the First Reading the abuse of authority was so severe that the Lord himself intervened to save poor Susanna from her false accusers. Now, similar to yesterday, the religious authorities are putting Our Lord on trial, and he is telling them that his testimony is not something to be accepted through rigorous legal process, but something to accept in faith as true.

At this point in John’s Gospel Our Lord has performed various signs to show that he was sent on his mission from God, but, as he told the religious authorities a few days ago, they don’t know God and so they can’t believe or trust Jesus. The elders in today’s First Reading knew the game well, but they forget that the true Judge was always on watch to make sure the game was played fairly. In today’s Gospel the religious authorities want to draw Our Lord into their game, and he doesn’t play. Susanna was spared by a miraculous intervention by the Lord; Our Lord went down into the depths of injustice, dying on the Cross, and in his Resurrection showed that the games of evil conceited men are in vain, no matter how powerful or skillful they think they are.

Thanks to Jesus we know Our Father and we know Jesus’ testimony is true. Let’s be witnesses to it as well.

Readings: Daniel 13:1–9, 15–17, 19–30, 33–62 ; Psalm 23:1–6; John 8:12–20 (Year C).

5th Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

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In today’s Gospel Jesus drives home his teaching, “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get” (Matthew 7:1-2). The scribes and Pharisees are looking for a trial, and they have the criminal caught in flagrante delicto and the Law on their side. The adulteress knows that too, which is why she is silent. She knew her fate was now out of her hands. The legal case is clear, and the “jury” had already convicted her and wanted the sentence to be given. She had to throw herself on the mercy of the court, but Jesus teaches us that justice and mercy are for all, so the “jury” in this case was put on trial too.

It took a just man to pronounce sentence on her; that’s what the Law prescribed. When they invited the just man, the man without sin, to come forward and throw the first stone, they found themselves on trial. They’d only come to trap Jesus in the situation, to put him on trial. They weren’t really seeking justice. They came to him as if they considered him a just man, but their actions showed they were sinners just like she was. They wanted a rubber stamp or a political scapegoat, not justice, and so they found they were the most unjust of men, and they skulked off, one by one, until only the adulteress remained, alone before the only just person who could pronounce the verdict.

When we demand justice at the expense of mercy, everyone and everything goes on trial. They walked off because they didn’t want to accept the injustice in their own lives. The Rich Young Man went away sad because he had many possessions and didn’t want to give them up to follow Jesus (see Matthew 19:22); the “jury” didn’t want to give up their pride, so they skulked off in plain sight. We have to always examine ourselves when the moment comes to stone and condemn others for what they have done. God alone is the judge. There is no mob in our conscience egging us on to cast stones at others. We stand alone with God. The other voices, one by one, leave and attend to their own consciences, knowing that they can only judge themselves so much before the case comes to the Divine Judge. In the end we too will stand speechless and hopeful for mercy, just like the adulteress.

Ashamed and silent, sorry for what we have done, we have to stand before Jesus and answer for it in the light of day. Each “jury” member that had been united around condemning another walked off alone. No one wanted to face up to Jesus for what they had done; they changed their vote with their feet. The adulteress was ready to accept her judgment. Jesus confirmed the jury’s revised verdict: since they had un-decided to condemn her, he would not condemn her either, but he also told her the truth about herself, just like he always does in each of our hearts: “Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”

As we being the next to last week of Lent, let’s take Our Lord’s words to heart. Let’s not put others on trial without being willing to put ourselves on trial too. Let’s stand before Our Lord and be truly sorry for our sins. Let’s have that compunction of heart to go and to sin no more. The truth about ourselves hurts sometimes, but it is the truth that sets us free.

Readings: Isaiah 43:16–21; Psalm 126:1–6; Philippians 3:8–14; John 8:1–11.

4th Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

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We are just past the half-way point in Lent. Jesus is heading to Jerusalem for the last time, and Easter is a light on the horizon, because we live Lent with Easter in mind. The message for this Sunday is on the lips of St. Paul in today’s Second Reading: “We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.”

In today’s First Reading God tells Joshua that the forty years that Israel spent in the desert, due to rebelling against God, are over. The Israelites have just entered the Promised Land, and for the first time in forty years they eat the Passover meal using the food of the Promised Land instead of manna, a fine powder God gave them each day in the desert to bake into bread: “a fine, flake-like thing, fine as hoarfrost on the ground” (Exodus 16:14). Today’s Responsorial Psalm summarizes well what they are feeling: taste and see the goodness of the Lord. It is like a cool drink after a long and hot day. The Israelites spent forty years in the desert, suffering and toiling, to reconcile with God after they mistrusted him and complained against him. They have finished their time of penance, which is why God tells them: “Today I have removed the reproach of Egypt from you.” Every time they grumbled and complained, they resented leaving Egypt. Egypt symbolized strange gods, evil customs: in a word, sin. Through forty years of penance the Israelites reconciled themselves with God.

The sacrament of Confession, the Catechism tells us, “is called the sacrament of Reconciliation, because it imparts to the sinner the love of God who reconciles: ‘Be reconciled to God.’ He who lives by God’s merciful love is ready to respond to the Lord’s call: ‘Go; first be reconciled to your brother’” (CCC 1424). Reconciliation with God and reconciliation with each other go hand in hand. At the start of each celebration of the Eucharist, we pray in the Penitential Rite confessing our sins to God and our brothers and sisters, and asking each other to pray to God that we might be forgiven for our sins. We know that we have reconciled with God, and received his love again, when we are willing to reconcile with others. St. John in his first letter says anything else is a lie: “We love, because he first loved us. If any one says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen” (1 John 4:19-20).

That brings us to the Prodigal Son and his brother. A moment to be reconciled is at hand for the whole family. We don’t need to do much moral math to see that the Prodigal Son blew it and is sorry. At first it seems he is just sorry that he doesn’t have anything else to eat, due to using up all his father’s money and then being in a famine, but when he comes back home, he has his lines all rehearsed: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”’ He barely says the words before his father gives him a big hug and calls for him to be dressed again as his son should be, and to throw a big feast. In an instant he goes from starving pig herder to a re-birthday party.

The tougher case that sometimes we overlook is the older brother; he couldn’t believe what his little brother did, but he was even more confused over what his father did. In his words to his father we see there is some resentment, not only toward his younger brother, but toward his father. This bears the risk of leaving the older brother outside in the cold: he doesn’t want to reconcile with his father, nor with his brother.

The parable doesn’t say how the older brother reacted to his father’s words. If we feel like the older brother sometimes, this leaves the story open to a happy ending or sad one. Let’s spend the last few weeks of Lent reconciling with God and with others in order to have a truly happy ending to our story.

Readings: Joshua 5:9a, 10–12; Psalm 34:2–7; 2 Corinthians 5:17–21; Luke 15:1–3, 11–32. See also 31st Week in Ordinary Time, Thursday and 2nd Week of Lent, Saturday.

3rd Sunday of Lent, Cycle C

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We have almost reached the half-way point to Calvary. The forty days of Lent remind us of the forty days in the desert, but we must also keep in view that Our Lord now has his sights set on Jerusalem. We’ve spent a few weeks in the desert, living our Lenten resolutions, and maybe our stomachs, or spirits, are starting to grumble for those things we’ve left behind for these forty days. How are our Lenten resolutions holding up? The Lenten resolutions are how we enter the desert. If you haven’t giving anything up for Lent yet, it’s not too late, but once in the desert, you have to stay the course if you want to reach the Promised Land.

As today’s First Reading reminds us, God is never indifferent to our struggles. When Moses asks God how he should identify him to the Israelites, suffering under bondage in Egypt, God tells them, “tell them I AM has sent you.” God is always there. He doesn’t just stop with that: he reminds them he is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to remind them that he is always faithful to his promises. He promised Abraham land and countless descendants if he had faith. Isaac was the fulfillment of that promise, and then Jacob became the father of the twelve tribes of Israel. Despite this, when Pharaoh let Moses lead Israel out into the desert, they had forty years of wandering before they entered the Promised Land – and many never made it.

In today’s Second Reading St. Paul reminds us that all the Israelites in the Exodus received the same gifts from God, but many didn’t stay the course out of evil desires. Their forty years in the desert were due to a lack of trust in God. He’d taken them to the Promised Land, but they were too scared to enter. They put their trust in food and water (and God sent them dew and manna, and quail to eat), money, ceremonies (trying to set up worship apart from Moses), authority and rumor mongering (asking why Moses should be the only one to speak on their behalf) – and they perished.

Our Lord doesn’t mince words in today’s Gospel about how we can stay the course in the desert. We’re guilty many times of the same thing as the Israelites. We don’t understand what the desert is for: a place for God to purify the hearts of the ones he loves, away from distractions. There are far fewer distractions in the desert, but the rumbling of our stomachs is also louder, and we ask ourselves what we’re really hungering.

Today’s Gospel shows the Jews in a drought of hope. Pilate has slaughtered a group of Galileans as they were offering worship. The Jews ask Jesus why. Why would God allow such as thing? Jesus adds an accident to the list of doubts: eighteen dead in a tower collapse in Siloam. Our Lord’s words are far from comforting: they are in the same danger, just as we are. Staying the course doesn’t mean not taking risks or making sacrifices (that wouldn’t have saved the Galileans), nor does it mean getting lucky (that wouldn’t have saved the people crushed in Siloam); staying the course means putting your trust in God and showing it. We show it by bearing fruit.

Fruit? In a desert? We are in a desert, and God wants us to bear fruit. We bear fruit by trusting in God’s patience with us (in the parable he gives the fig tree four chances to get its act together), and, as Jesus tells us, by repentance. Lent is about repentance, not just for our sins, but for the sins of the whole world. And the Church teaches us three ways to prepare the soil: fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. Penance prepares the soil, but the sacraments are how we draw close to Christ and the Holy Spirit. Jesus waters the soil with his own blood so that we can bear fruit. The Eucharist gives us strength for the journey, and the Sacrament of Reconciliation puts us back on our feet and turns us back in the right direction. The fruits of the Spirit will come, as Scripture reminds us: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, and chastity. By repentance and the sacraments we gain the strength to bear these fruits. Otherwise, we’ll lose our bearings and never get out of the desert.

So as we continue our march through the desert of Lent, accompanying Our Lord to Jerusalem, let’s put our Lenten sacrifices on the paten with the host, so that God can transform them into fruits. Let’s ask forgiveness if we’ve fallen behind or gotten turned around in the journey. Let’s trust in God to keep strengthening us for the journey with his Body and Blood,and the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Readings: Exodus 3:1–8a, 13–15; Psalm 103:1–4, 6–8, 11; 1 Corinthians 10:1–6, 10–12; Luke 13:1–9. See also 29th Week in Ordinary Time, Saturday.