Lenten Reflections
Passion Sunday
Passion Sunday
Praying for those involved in cinema and theatre
One of the Church’s great theologians, Fr Hans Urs Von Balthasar (1905-1988) did not, interestingly enough, hold a doctorate in theology - his doctorate was in literature. It was through his literary studies that he came to reflect on the mysteries of our faith and what a blessing that would prove to be. Living in an age when many of those who were working within the science of theology would lose their way and not only enter a crisis of faith themselves but would inflict one on the Church, Von Balthasar found a way to an even deeper faith and explore it in the most novel ways while remaining firmly within the bosom of the Church. The theology of Von Balthasar stands as proof to the critics of the Church that the Church does not suppress innovation, but is intrigued by it, embraces it as long as it does not stray into dismantling Christ or what he taught: the purpose of theology is to lead us to a deeper understanding of Jesus Christ, the Paschal Mystery and his teachings. The theology of Von Balthasar also reiterates the age old understanding that holiness is the goal of the Christian life and that those who work in the area of theology should also be striving for holiness. He once called a dimension of his theology “kneeling theology” since he believed it had to be connected to contemplation. The Servant of God Fulton Sheen was also convinced of this and often said that theology must be studied on one’s knees. Von Balthasar as a holy priest would prove this approach to his work not just in his writings, but in his life.
Hans Urs Von Balthasar
Fr Von Balthasar was a Jesuit for a number of years but in 1950 he discerned that he was to leave to lead his newly founded Secular Institute, the Community of St John. At first his theology was under suspicion, but as he was better understood, he became an enormous influence, providing contemporary theology with a new way of exploring the faith while contributing to the area of theological aesthetics. This contribution coupled with the admiration of Pope John Paul II led to his being nominated as a cardinal. Von Balthasar was horrified when he was told - he was a humble man and believed such an honour was beyond him. However, when prevailed upon by Pope John Paul II, in obedience to the Pope and for the sake of their friendship, he assented to the honour. He would never receive the red hat: before he was due to travel to Rome for the consistory he died in his home as he was preparing to offer Mass. Many hope that an even greater ecclesiastical honour awaits him, but as of yet no Cause has been opened.
Von Balthasar’s great works are called The Glory of the Lord and Theo-Drama two parts of a monumental theological trilogy which form only part of an enormous output. They are profound and difficult to read, but groundbreaking and the Church’s theologians have just started to unpack the treasures of his thought. As one trained in literature he saw the value of literary forms in theological reflection, and so part of his work is on theo-dramatics in which he explores cosmic salvation history at the heart of which is the drama of redemption which unfolds in the Paschal Mystery. To look at the life of Jesus and the events by which he redeemed us as a drama is not merely an innovation, but, as Von Balthasar understood, it allows us enter in a deeper way into the mystery of Christ - helps us realise that we are part of this great drama because it is also the drama of our lives. St Ignatius of Loyola also realised this as he withdrew from the world into the cave at Manresa to prepare for his life of service. He developed the Spiritual Exercises in which he urges us to meditate on Jesus and the events of his life, not as passive watchers or ‘readers’, but as participants and active observers. This insight challenges us to a greater engagement with our faith - it makes us realise that the lives that we live must be centred on the drama which is God’s life and we must be part of that universal drama.
This Sunday in our Gospel we are presented with two dramas: that of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and that of his passion and death. In the Liturgy we notice that the Church actually expects us to participate in these dramas. She does so for a number of reasons but the main one is to remind us that we are already personally involved in what is taking place. The days of the Easter Triduum are remarkable days - it always seems that time stands still, that we are actually transported back to those days in Jerusalem. This is not just a notional thing, it is spiritual, and if I can say it, it is a real presence - our real presence in those events, or more correctly, the real presence of these events in our lives. As we “go back” into the experience of the passion and death of Jesus, in reality it is made present to us now because these events which we know as the Paschal Mystery are relevant now and when we “remember” them we see that they are already present. This is what the Liturgy is all about, and so the experience of really being there which the faithful will have this time, is actually a greater entry into the Liturgy. As a priest, each day I offer Mass I always try to be aware that the Mystery I celebrate in the Holy Eucharist is there, I am entering into it in all its vibrancy and efficacy. The same is true for all of us who have the joy of participating in the sacred Liturgy.
Von Balthasar’s great works are called The Glory of the Lord and Theo-Drama two parts of a monumental theological trilogy which form only part of an enormous output. They are profound and difficult to read, but groundbreaking and the Church’s theologians have just started to unpack the treasures of his thought. As one trained in literature he saw the value of literary forms in theological reflection, and so part of his work is on theo-dramatics in which he explores cosmic salvation history at the heart of which is the drama of redemption which unfolds in the Paschal Mystery. To look at the life of Jesus and the events by which he redeemed us as a drama is not merely an innovation, but, as Von Balthasar understood, it allows us enter in a deeper way into the mystery of Christ - helps us realise that we are part of this great drama because it is also the drama of our lives. St Ignatius of Loyola also realised this as he withdrew from the world into the cave at Manresa to prepare for his life of service. He developed the Spiritual Exercises in which he urges us to meditate on Jesus and the events of his life, not as passive watchers or ‘readers’, but as participants and active observers. This insight challenges us to a greater engagement with our faith - it makes us realise that the lives that we live must be centred on the drama which is God’s life and we must be part of that universal drama.
This Sunday in our Gospel we are presented with two dramas: that of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and that of his passion and death. In the Liturgy we notice that the Church actually expects us to participate in these dramas. She does so for a number of reasons but the main one is to remind us that we are already personally involved in what is taking place. The days of the Easter Triduum are remarkable days - it always seems that time stands still, that we are actually transported back to those days in Jerusalem. This is not just a notional thing, it is spiritual, and if I can say it, it is a real presence - our real presence in those events, or more correctly, the real presence of these events in our lives. As we “go back” into the experience of the passion and death of Jesus, in reality it is made present to us now because these events which we know as the Paschal Mystery are relevant now and when we “remember” them we see that they are already present. This is what the Liturgy is all about, and so the experience of really being there which the faithful will have this time, is actually a greater entry into the Liturgy. As a priest, each day I offer Mass I always try to be aware that the Mystery I celebrate in the Holy Eucharist is there, I am entering into it in all its vibrancy and efficacy. The same is true for all of us who have the joy of participating in the sacred Liturgy.
Jesus enters Jerusalem in triumph
The first drama is Jesus’ the entry into Jerusalem - the festal welcome of the Messiah into his city. This commemoration forms the first part of our Mass today and as we participate in the procession, waving our palms and announcing the coming of the Lord, it seems as if we are transported back in time. This event must have been remarkable, although it was most likely to have been quite simple. The Jews believed that the Messiah would enter into the city through a certain gate and liberate his people and their city. Many had now come to accept Jesus as the Messiah, and so as the Passover drew near, Jesus prepared to enter the city to fulfil that prophecy. Perhaps as they waved their palms and praised him, those in the crowd thought that he had a plan in place to liberate the Jewish people from the Roman occupation. Within the space of a few days everything would be different as it dawned on them that they were mistaken. But for now, the Anointed One was coming. In Scriptural terms we see in this event the fulfilment of the prophecy “The Lord will enter his temple”. We might also think of King David’s dancing before the Ark of God as it was brought in procession into the city of Jerusalem. David laid aside his crown, divested himself of his finery and in full view of all he danced with fervour and abandon. His wife was horrified and later rebuked him, but David would have none of it: in comparison with God who was he? It was his duty to praise God, to be humble and humbled. Here now the Son of David, the new ark, enters the city just as humbly on a donkey. He too was divested, not of earthly regalia, but of the majesty of his divinity - he had humbled himself though his state was divine, as St Paul tells us in his Letter to the Philippians. Here again is the Mystery of the Incarnation unveiled for us: the drama of God and man meeting in Christ. As Jesus entered the city he comes in not to earthly glory, but to humiliation and agony; perhaps there is irony here: unknown to them the crowds celebrate what is about to unfold, the redemption which is about to be won. In this they represent us. As we participate in this procession before Mass we are taking our places in the cosmic liturgy, the great greeting with which all creation welcomes its Lord. Unlike the people of Jerusalem we know the drama about to unfold will be centred on the cross, and so we wave our palms not for an earthly king or a political Messiah, but for he who is gentle and humble of heart and is about to who pour out his blood to save us.
From this great drama of celebration and joy, when it seems as if the people had finally accepted him, we immediately enter into the dark events which lead to Jesus’ passion and death: to our second drama. Why so quickly? Should we not bask in the celebration for a week, or at least a few days, before embarking on the Via Dolorosa? No; things changed suddenly. On Sunday Jesus was hailed Messiah, on Wednesday his disciple sold him out, on Thursday he was betrayed, and on Friday he stood, scourged and chastised before the crowds, the same crowds that had cut the palm branches for him, and now they were howling for his blood. They would only be satisfied when they saw him dead on a cross, and by the end of the day he would be dead and his body, unanointed, quickly put into a tomb. What happened in the meantime? The answer to that question, vital as it is, is to be found in the mystery of human iniquity, and this is part of the great drama of our existence. We will not be delving into that drama, but rather we will reflect on the one at the centre of it: Jesus himself and his role as Messiah - the Anointed One, the Redeemer. The two dramatic events commemorated today are linked: there is the misunderstanding: hailed and then reviled, the people fail to understand who the Messiah is, who he was meant to be. They are linked because we who do know are lead to adore him, first with palms, then with broken hearts and then with the great Easter Alleluia as we greet him when he emerges from the tomb.
The Messiah, then: who was he to be? The Jews had been promised a Messiah for a long time - he was the one who would come to liberate the people from their captivity. As we have seen many understood this Messiah to be a great military leader, a king. Reading the prophesies they saw that he would be the son of King David and interpreted his salvific actions in a political sense: the Jewish faith and the Davidic kingdom had become so mixed up in each other there seemed to be no other way to interpret the mysterious figure other than that of his being a political leader, a great military commander and a king who would restore the monarchy and usher in a new Golden Age. During Jesus’ lifetime, and in the years just before him, a number of ‘Messiahs’ had been proclaimed and these were military in nature - all perished under the Roman yoke. A number of rebellious groups were formed in response to Roman occupation and they were on the lookout for the Messiah. One of these groups was the Zealots and they were particularly interested in Jesus. They made advances to him asking him to lead their group - they were prepared to believe he was the Messiah, but he did not turn out to be what they expected. Despite this at least one of them joined Jesus’ disciples and embraced the truth about him - the Apostle St Simon, often called the Zealot, was one of their number.
If the idea of a military leader was wrong, then was there any indication as to what he would be? Yes, from the very beginning the Messiah was foretold in the Scriptures and while the references could only be truly understood in hindsight, the nature of the Messiah had already been revealed. For the first prophecy we begin at the beginning, at the very moment man and woman fell and lost the state of original grace. We are told in the Book of Genesis, as man and woman stand condemned before God, that a redeemer would come. This redeemer was symbolised by the offspring of the woman who would crush the head of the serpent. The Church has always seen two prophecies in this: the first is that of one who destroy the sin, not sorting out its effects, but a deeper redemption, crushing it at its very root. The second is that of Our Lady, the one conceived in grace, the one who would not be a slave to sin - we see this interpretation in the many statues of Our Lady of Grace which show her standing on the snake.
From that first moment on God sends messages to the humanity, revealing through various people who prefigure the Messiah. Abel who is put to death by his jealous brother, for example is one - even the primeval crime can be turned around to prefigure the suffering of the Messiah. Next was Noah, the one who saved the ‘world’ figuratively, and became the new first man, the father of a new people in a new creation. Abraham, of course, and his son Isaac also prefigure the Christ. The Ageda - the sacrifice of Isaac, like Abel’s death, points to the sacrifice to come when the Son is offered in sacrifice, but in Christ no ram is offered to replace him since he himself is the Lamb of sacrifice. Joseph who saved his father and brothers from famine is another. Moses and the Judges too - these led and governed Israel; they prefigure the leader and Judge. David, who would be the ancestor of the Messiah, would himself prefigure Jesus. This is interesting because of the reversal. Traditionally the Messiah was understood to be the son of David, to herald in a new Davidic era, in reality it was to be the other way around, the Messiah was the one to whom David pointed and it was a new Messianic era which was to be unveiled.
From this great drama of celebration and joy, when it seems as if the people had finally accepted him, we immediately enter into the dark events which lead to Jesus’ passion and death: to our second drama. Why so quickly? Should we not bask in the celebration for a week, or at least a few days, before embarking on the Via Dolorosa? No; things changed suddenly. On Sunday Jesus was hailed Messiah, on Wednesday his disciple sold him out, on Thursday he was betrayed, and on Friday he stood, scourged and chastised before the crowds, the same crowds that had cut the palm branches for him, and now they were howling for his blood. They would only be satisfied when they saw him dead on a cross, and by the end of the day he would be dead and his body, unanointed, quickly put into a tomb. What happened in the meantime? The answer to that question, vital as it is, is to be found in the mystery of human iniquity, and this is part of the great drama of our existence. We will not be delving into that drama, but rather we will reflect on the one at the centre of it: Jesus himself and his role as Messiah - the Anointed One, the Redeemer. The two dramatic events commemorated today are linked: there is the misunderstanding: hailed and then reviled, the people fail to understand who the Messiah is, who he was meant to be. They are linked because we who do know are lead to adore him, first with palms, then with broken hearts and then with the great Easter Alleluia as we greet him when he emerges from the tomb.
The Messiah, then: who was he to be? The Jews had been promised a Messiah for a long time - he was the one who would come to liberate the people from their captivity. As we have seen many understood this Messiah to be a great military leader, a king. Reading the prophesies they saw that he would be the son of King David and interpreted his salvific actions in a political sense: the Jewish faith and the Davidic kingdom had become so mixed up in each other there seemed to be no other way to interpret the mysterious figure other than that of his being a political leader, a great military commander and a king who would restore the monarchy and usher in a new Golden Age. During Jesus’ lifetime, and in the years just before him, a number of ‘Messiahs’ had been proclaimed and these were military in nature - all perished under the Roman yoke. A number of rebellious groups were formed in response to Roman occupation and they were on the lookout for the Messiah. One of these groups was the Zealots and they were particularly interested in Jesus. They made advances to him asking him to lead their group - they were prepared to believe he was the Messiah, but he did not turn out to be what they expected. Despite this at least one of them joined Jesus’ disciples and embraced the truth about him - the Apostle St Simon, often called the Zealot, was one of their number.
If the idea of a military leader was wrong, then was there any indication as to what he would be? Yes, from the very beginning the Messiah was foretold in the Scriptures and while the references could only be truly understood in hindsight, the nature of the Messiah had already been revealed. For the first prophecy we begin at the beginning, at the very moment man and woman fell and lost the state of original grace. We are told in the Book of Genesis, as man and woman stand condemned before God, that a redeemer would come. This redeemer was symbolised by the offspring of the woman who would crush the head of the serpent. The Church has always seen two prophecies in this: the first is that of one who destroy the sin, not sorting out its effects, but a deeper redemption, crushing it at its very root. The second is that of Our Lady, the one conceived in grace, the one who would not be a slave to sin - we see this interpretation in the many statues of Our Lady of Grace which show her standing on the snake.
From that first moment on God sends messages to the humanity, revealing through various people who prefigure the Messiah. Abel who is put to death by his jealous brother, for example is one - even the primeval crime can be turned around to prefigure the suffering of the Messiah. Next was Noah, the one who saved the ‘world’ figuratively, and became the new first man, the father of a new people in a new creation. Abraham, of course, and his son Isaac also prefigure the Christ. The Ageda - the sacrifice of Isaac, like Abel’s death, points to the sacrifice to come when the Son is offered in sacrifice, but in Christ no ram is offered to replace him since he himself is the Lamb of sacrifice. Joseph who saved his father and brothers from famine is another. Moses and the Judges too - these led and governed Israel; they prefigure the leader and Judge. David, who would be the ancestor of the Messiah, would himself prefigure Jesus. This is interesting because of the reversal. Traditionally the Messiah was understood to be the son of David, to herald in a new Davidic era, in reality it was to be the other way around, the Messiah was the one to whom David pointed and it was a new Messianic era which was to be unveiled.
After David we see the Prophets proclaiming the Messiah and their prophecies concerned an altogether more mysterious figure. As the idea of the royal nature of the Messiah gained momentum among the people, the prophets spoke of one who would restore Israel’s relationship with God - not a word about politics. The Messiah had more to do with saving the people from their sins; when they spoke of restoration there was an important emphasis on the restoration of the person: the restoration of the nation was not so much about the state as it as about the people of God renewed and sanctified. Foremost among these prophets the prophecies of Isaiah were enlightening - or were supposed to be. The one who is to come will be a suffering servant, he said. He is born of a maiden; he will be God-with-us. While the symbolic nature of these may have been appreciated, the fact that they were literally true would come as a shock. Later, the Prophet Daniel revealed more about the Messiah and the mysterious title ‘Son of Man’. His prophecies gave further evidence that the one who was to come would be divine, but again this was not properly understood. As the first Christians read the Old Testament in the light of what they knew about Jesus these passages jumped out at them: it was so obvious, why did he take them by surprise? Now they understood the Lord’s frustration.
The Prophet Isaiah
As we reflect on this revelation of the Messiah we must now turn to our Gospel today, which is read in dramatic form and inviting us into the middle of the action. This year we read the Passion according to St Mark, and it begins with a most interesting scene which is related to our reflection on the Messiah. Jesus is at Bethany - also mentioned in the earlier Gospel of the procession, and he is anointed by a woman. Other accounts tell us that anointing at Bethany was done by Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus and Martha, and took place in their home. St Mark situates this anointing at the house of Simon the leper - a man whom Jesus may have healed. This anointing is beautiful. She comes in and breaks open a jar of precious ointment, pouring it over his head. Why did she anoint him? If it is Mary of Bethany, perhaps it is to thank him for raising Lazarus, but Jesus tells those who criticise the waste of such expensive ointment, reveals a deeper meaning: it is in preparation for his burial. How true, when he was taken down from the cross there would be no time to anoint his body properly. It is also a revelation of who he is. As we speak of the office of the Messiah, we are speaking of the Anointed One - the Christ.
Jesus was anointed as Messiah at the moment of his baptism in the River Jordan when the Holy Spirit descended upon him and the Father acknowledged him. We might see here in this anointing by the woman at Bethany, in her adoration, a confirmation and acceptance of Jesus in this office. In the Mystery of the Incarnation God and man are united in Jesus, and perhaps as God anointed him Messiah, now just before his death a human being acknowledges that anointing and on behalf of the human race, for whom Jesus will die, she anoints him also - not that of superior anointing an inferior -but that of an inferior anointing a superior. Mary of Bethany will anoint him on the feet. God’s work needs no confirmation from us, but in his love he invites us to participate in his work, and perhaps in this anointing he allows us take a part in the ‘vesting’ of our Saviour.
Jesus was anointed as Messiah at the moment of his baptism in the River Jordan when the Holy Spirit descended upon him and the Father acknowledged him. We might see here in this anointing by the woman at Bethany, in her adoration, a confirmation and acceptance of Jesus in this office. In the Mystery of the Incarnation God and man are united in Jesus, and perhaps as God anointed him Messiah, now just before his death a human being acknowledges that anointing and on behalf of the human race, for whom Jesus will die, she anoints him also - not that of superior anointing an inferior -but that of an inferior anointing a superior. Mary of Bethany will anoint him on the feet. God’s work needs no confirmation from us, but in his love he invites us to participate in his work, and perhaps in this anointing he allows us take a part in the ‘vesting’ of our Saviour.
The Flagellation of Christ
There is so much happening! The crowds are yelling, a man is pressed into service - it will be the making of him. Jesus falls, the women of Jerusalem weep - the stations of the Via Dolorosa open out before us. What we once prayed in piety is now transformed and we see it in all its brutal reality. On reaching the place of the skull, the full horror is unveiled: he is stripped - his dignity is offended: but he is so torn apart there is little left. He is nailed to the cross - could we even permit ourselves see the hammer in our own hands? He is lifted up and now the entire world sees him and it mocks him - are we tempted to join in? Do we now want to distance ourselves from him? No, we must not, because this is the moment when he is revealed. As he dies on the cross we now recognise the Messiah, the Anointed One, and all the Holy Prophets cover their faces and prostrate themselves before the Lamb offered up in sacrifice.
And as gaze upon him, do we now know that we stand naked before him? This Crucified Messiah is there because of us and for us and the Mystery of this sacrifice is part of our lives too: this now is the defining moment of our lives. No longer a stranger, a mysterious figure, a distant king, Christ is one whose heart was opened for us. The Messiah was anointed for us - for you, for me, and now he reaches out to us: to each one of us, personally. He dies to take away our sins. He dies so we may know who he is and how much he loves us. We are to see in the immolation of the God-made-man the revelation of God’s love for us and to finally convince us to come back to him. To understand who the Messiah is we must understand our sinfulness, how far we have fallen and the how far God will go to lift us back up again. In recognising him we may accept him, give ourselves to him and be changed, renewed, reborn, restored. As he surveys the dead Christ, St Mark records what seems to be the first fruit of the Messiah’s mission as he notes the conversion of a Roman centurion. Can you make this man’s declaration your own, the evangelist asks us? Can you embrace what you profess when you say with him “In truth this man was the Son of God”?
So begins the story of Jesus’ betrayal, passion and death. As people now personally involved, we witness first hand the work of the Redeemer. We sit at his Last Supper as he initiates the sacrifice of the Mass, about to be celebrated later in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. We accompany him in his trial when all the others have fled - our place is beside him; yet the denials of Peter sting - they remind us of our own. We participate most brutally in his condemnation, and as we shout out the words “Crucify him!” we realise that we did indeed demand this through our sinfulness, and continue to do so each time we choose evil rather than good. In the encounter with Pilate, we see our own hesitation to get involved; we see the times when we should have stood up for what was right rather than fold in the face of opposition or respectability or peer pressure. The scouring is too awful to contemplate, and while we cover our eyes for fear, Jesus stands to take the punishment. We hear every lash. In the journey to Golgotha we see all the pain and trials of human life now pushing on Christ’s shoulders and the cross which should be ours is taken away to claim the life of another who is altogether innocent.
Jesus carries the cross
Ecce Homo,
by St Albert Chmielowski
by St Albert Chmielowski
Fr John Hogan,
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius
Passion Sunday
April 4th 2009
Father Director,
The Fraternity of St Genesius
Passion Sunday
April 4th 2009