Commentary

Commentary - Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion- Year A

 

April 13, 2014

 

FIRST READING - Isaiah 50: 4-7

 

The Lord GOD has given me

a well-trained tongue,

that I might know how to speak to the weary

a word that will rouse them.

Morning after morning

he opens my ear that I may hear;

and I have not rebelled,

have not turned back.

I gave my back to those who beat me,

my cheeks to those who plucked my beard;

my face I did not shield

from buffets and spitting.

 

The Lord GOD is my help,

therefore I am not disgraced;

I have set my face like flint,

knowing that I shall not be put to shame.

 

Commentary

 

For years, we have read and reread these amazing texts called "Servant Songs", taken from the book of Isaiah. They are of particular interest to us Christians for two reasons: first because of the message that Isaiah wanted to give to his contemporaries; and secondly, because the early Christians applied these Servant Songs to Jesus Christ.

 

I begin with the message of the prophet Isaiah to his contemporaries. One thing is certain: Isaiah was obviously not thinking about Jesus Christ when he wrote this, probably in the 6th century BC, during the Babylonian Exile. Seeing how his people in exile are in harsh conditions that could well lead to their discouragement, Isaiah reminds them that they are still God’s servant; and that God counts on his servant (his people) to achieve God’s plan of salvation for humanity. The people of Israel are indeed the servant of God, nourished each morning by the Word, but also persecuted for their faith.

 

In this text, Isaiah admirably describes the special relationship that unites the servant (Israel) to God. Its main characteristic is one of listening to the Word of God, "Morning after morning he opens my ear" as Isaiah says. Our text ads: “that I may hear”; but the Hebrew meaning of this phrase refers to a learner: “to listen as those who are taught." To listen to the Word, to be taught by it, means to live in trust. "Listen" is a word that has a special meaning in the Bible: it means to trust. Our lives incessantly waver between two opposing attitudes: confidence in God, serene abandonment to God’s will because we know from experience that this will is good ... or mistrust, suspicion of God’s intentions ... and rebellion when we are faced with trials, a rebellion that can lead us to believe that God has abandoned us, or worse, that God finds satisfaction in our suffering.

 

One after another, the prophets repeatedly entreated the people with: "Hear, O Israel", “Hear what the Lord says,” “Listen.” And in their mouth the word "Listen" always meant "trust God no matter what happens". St. Paul explains why: it is because "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God." From every evil, from every difficulty and trial, God brings forth good. God counters hatred with a stronger love, persecution with the power of forgiveness, and death with life, with resurrection.

 

What we have here is a story of mutual trust. God has confidence in the servant to whom God entrusts a mission; in return the servant confidently accepts the mission. And it is this mutual trust that gives the servant the necessary strength to stand firm even in the face of inevitable opposition. Here the mission is one of witness "that I might know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them." When entrusting this mission, the Lord provides the necessary strength – the Lord “gives” the necessary language: "The Lord GOD has given me a well-trained tongue." And God also provides the confidence from which springs the audacity of service to others: "He opens my ear," indicates that listening (in the biblical sense of trusting) is itself a gift from God. Everything is gift: the mission and also the strength and the confidence that makes one unwavering in one’s mission.  It is characteristic of the believer to recognize everything as a gift from God. Whoever lives in this permanent giftedness is ready to face anything: "I have not rebelled, have not turned back."

 

Fidelity to the mission entrusted inevitably brings persecution: true prophets, that is to say those who actually speak the word of God, are rarely appreciated in their lifetime. And so Isaiah specifically warns his contemporaries: hold on tight, the Lord has not abandoned you; on the contrary, God has entrusted you with a mission; so do not be surprised if you are mistreated. Why? Because the servant who truly "listens" to the Word of God, who concretely lives it, quickly becomes extremely discomfiting. His conversion calls others to conversion. Some consequently hear the call ... others reject it, and full of their own good reasons, they persecute the servant. Each morning, the servant must renew his strength at the foot of the One who enables him to face whatever comes: "Morning after morning he opens my ear ... The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced..." And then Isaiah uses a slightly curious expression to our ears but typical in Hebrew: "I have set my face like flint "*: it expresses resolve and courage.  We sometimes say of a distraught person that his “face fell”; well here the servant says, "you won’t see me with a fallen face; nothing will crush me, whatever happens I will hold on". This confidence is not a prideful boast; it comes from knowing the source of his strength: "The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced..."

 

I said at the beginning that the prophet Isaiah addressed his humiliated, persecuted contemporaries in exile in Babylon; but, of course, when one reads the Passion of Christ, it is obvious that Christ perfectly embodies this image of the servant of God: an open ear to God’s Word, an unshakable confidence that brings with it the certainty of victory in the midst of persecution, all this characterized Jesus as the crowds cheered him on in his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, thereby precipitating his fateful end.

 

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·         Luke uses this exact phrase when speaking of Jesus: "When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem (Luke 9, 51)

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Psalm 22, 1, 8-9, 17-20, 22b-24

 

R/ (2a) My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

All who see me scoff at me;

they mock me with parted lips, they wag their heads:

“He relied on the LORD; let him deliver him,

let him rescue him, if he loves him.”

R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

Indeed, many dogs surround me,

a pack of evildoers closes in upon me;

They have pierced my hands and my feet;

I can count all my bones.

R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

They divide my garments among them,

and for my vesture they cast lots.

But you, O LORD, be not far from me;

O my help, hasten to aid me.

R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

I will proclaim your name to my brethren;

in the midst of the assembly I will praise you:

“You who fear the LORD, praise him;

all you descendants of Jacob, give glory to him;

revere him, all you descendants of Israel!”

R/ My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?

 

Commentary

 

Psalm 22 holds a few surprises. First surprise: It begins with the well-known phrase "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?" - a phrase over which has been poured much ink and musical notes! The trouble is that we take this phrase out of its context, and as a result change its meaning. In order to understand this phrase, we must read the entire psalm. It is fairly long: 32 verses, yet we rarely read the final verses. What does the psalm say? It is an act of thanksgiving: "…you have rescued me. 
I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters;
in the midst of the congregation I will praise you." He who cried out, "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?" in the first verse, gives thanks a few verses later for the salvation granted. Not only is he not dead, he is giving thanks to God for not abandoning him!

 

Second surprise: At first sight, we could really think that Psalm 22 was written about Jesus Christ: "They have pierced my hands and feet; I can count all my bones." Indeed this fits the agony of a crucified man that takes place under the cruel eyes of the executioners and perhaps even of curious onlookers: "Indeed, many dogs surround me, a pack of evildoers closes in upon me… They stare at me and gloat. They divide my garments among them, and for my vesture they cast lots."

 

But in reality, this psalm was not written about Jesus Christ; it was composed for the return from the Babylonian Exile. This return is compared to the resurrection of a man condemned to death - because the Exile was indeed the death sentence of the people of Israel; a little more, and they would have been wiped off the map!

 

And so, in this Psalm, Israel is compared to a condemned man who nearly died on the cross (the cross was a very common form of punishment which explains why the example of crucifixion is used); the offender has suffered insults, humiliation, the piercing of nails, abandonment in the hands of executioners ... and then, miraculously, he has escaped, he is not dead. Translate: ‘Israel has returned from exile’. And now he abandons himself to his joy and shouts it to everyone; he shouts it louder than he had shouted his distress.

 

The crucifixion is not central to the psalm; its purpose is to showcase the thanksgiving prayer of the one (Israel) who has just escaped from horror.

 

From the midst of its distress, Israel has never ceased to call for help nor did it ever doubt that God was listening. Its well-known loud cry: "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?" is a cry of distress before God's silence, but it is not a cry of despair, much less a cry of doubt. Quite the contrary! It is the prayer of the one who in his suffering dares to shout his suffering.

 

Incidentally, this sheds light on our own prayer when we are suffering: we have the right to scream; the Bible invites us to do so.

 

This psalm then, is actually a song of the return from Exile in which Israel gives thanks. It recalls its past pain, its anguish, and God’s apparent silence; it thought itself abandoned in the hands of its enemies ... but nevertheless continued to pray, which proves that the people had not completely lost hope, otherwise they would have given up on prayer! Throughout its exile Israel continued to remember the Covenant and all of God’s blessings.

 

Basically, this psalm is the equivalent of our ex-voto. During a time of great danger, we pray and make a vow: "if I escape, I will offer a votive offering to such or such a saint" (The word "ex-voto" means "following a vow"). Once our prayer has been answered, our promise is kept. In certain churches in the south of France, for example, the walls are covered with paintings of the circumstances of the danger escaped – perhaps from a fire, an accident or a shipwreck ... sometimes we see a young woman dying in childbirth with many children at her bedside. What almost happened is always presented dramatically; we see parents and relatives weeping helplessly; they are the ones who promise to request this painting once the loved one is out of danger. In general, the painting is divided into three sections: the danger encountered, the family and relatives in prayer, and at the top of the canvas, in a corner of the sky, the saint who came to their assistance, or the Virgin. This ex-voto with all its parts is itself the expression of thanksgiving that wells up in the hearts of those for whom all ended well.

 

Psalm 21 is exactly like that: it paints the horror of the Exile, the distress of the people of Israel and of Jerusalem under siege by Nebuchadnezzar, and the sense of helplessness in this time of trial; and here the trial is none other than the hatred of men. The people pray in supplication: "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?" which can be translated as "Why, to what end, have you abandoned me to the hatred of my enemies?" God knows the many times that the people of Israel faced the hatred of men. But this psalm, just like our ex-votos, goes beyond this: it is also the thanksgiving prayer of the one who acknowledges that he owes his salvation to God alone. "But you, O LORD, be not far from me… I will proclaim your name to my brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will praise you: You who fear the LORD, praise him!"

 

The final verses of the psalm are a cry of praise and gratitude. Unfortunately, we do not sing them for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion ... maybe because we are supposed to know them by heart? "The poor will eat their fill; those who seek the LORD will offer praise. May your hearts enjoy life forever! All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD; all the families of nations will bow low before him… And I will live for the LORD; my descendants will serve you. The generation to come will be told of the Lord, that they may proclaim to a people yet unborn the deliverance you have brought."

 

SECOND READING - Philippians 2: 6-11

 

Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God

something to be grasped.

Rather, he emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

coming in human likeness;

and found human in appearance,

he humbled himself,

becoming obedient to the point of death,

even death on a cross.

Because of this, God greatly exalted him

and bestowed on him the name

which is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus

every knee should bend,

of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that

Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

 

Commentary

 

This familiar text is often called the "Philippians Hymn" because we have the impression that Paul did not write it himself, but rather cites a hymn that was regularly sung in the liturgy.

 

To begin with I want to make two points: first, once again, we are struck by the New Testament’s emphasis on the subject of the servant, "he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave." It is clear that the early Christians, faced with the scandal of the cross, reflected long and hard on Isaiah’s Servant Songs. These texts were able to provide a way of understanding the mystery of the person of Christ.

 

Second remark: "Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped." Our translation reads "though he was in the form of God," but in reality it is the opposite: it should read, "because he was in the form of God, he did not see fit to assert his right to be treated as God’s equal."

 

On a more serious note, what is critical here is our temptation to read this text in terms of our human idea of reward - as if the pattern went like this: Jesus behaved admirably and therefore he received a wonderful reward! If I speak of temptation it is because any presentation of God's benevolent plan that uses terms of calculation, of reward, of merit, what I call arithmetic thinking, is contrary to God’s "free grace". As its name suggests, grace is gratuitous! Oddly enough, we have a lot of trouble thinking in terms of gratuity; we are always tempted to talk about merits; but if God waited for us to produce merits, then we would have reason to worry... The wonder of God's love is that it does not wait for us to merit it; this in any case is what the people of the Bible discovered through Revelation.

 

So to be faithful to the text, it must be read in terms of gratuity. We are liable to misinterpret it if we forget that with God everything is gift, "everything is grace" as Bernanos said.

 

For Paul, it is obvious that God’s gift is gratuitous; it is a conviction that runs through all of his letters, so much so that he does not need to bring it up again.

 

To summarize Paul's thought: God's benevolent plan is to invite us into God’s intimacy, happiness and perfect love: all this is absolutely free, which is not surprising, since it stems from love. Our part is simply to accept with wonder and awe this gift of God, this entry in divine life; there is no room for merit here since it is a gift freely offered. With God, everything is gift. But we exclude ourselves from this free gift if we adopt an attitude of entitlement, if we behave like the woman in the Garden of Eden: she takes the forbidden fruit, she takes it like a demanding child in a toy store ... Jesus Christ, on the contrary, was totally receptive (what St. Paul calls "obedient" - more on that word later), and because he was open to accepting the gift of God and did not claim it as his own, this gift was given him to the full.

 

"Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped." It is precisely because he is in the form of God that Jesus Christ knows that love is freely given; he knows that it is not good to have an attitude of entitlement and does not regard equality with God as his right... And yet this is exactly what God wants to give! To give as Gift, which is what Jesus recieves in the end.

 

This receptivity is also at the heart of the story of Christ’s temptations in the desert (which we read the first Sunday of Lent). The divider (in Greek, this is precisely what the word for ‘devil’ - diabolos - means) tempts Jesus only with things that are already part of God's plan! But Jesus refuses to take them. He relies on his Father to give them to him. The Tempter says, "If you are the Son of God, you are entitled to everything, your Father cannot refuse you anything. So if you are hungry turn these stones into bread... God will always protect you so throw yourself from the heights, ... the world is yours, if you only worship me." But Jesus waits for all things from God alone.

 

Jesus receives the name that is above every other name: the name of God! To say that Jesus is Lord is to say that he is God. In the Old Testament, the title "Lord" was reserved for God – as was the act of genuflexion. “That at the name of Jesus every knee should bend”: this is a reference to a phrase from the prophet Isaiah:  “To me every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall swear, says God” (Is 45: 23).

 

Jesus lived his human life in humility and trust, even when faced with the worst, that is to say, with human hatred and death. I used the word "trust" whereas Paul speaks of "obedience."  To obey, "ob-audire" in Latin, literally means to put one’s ear (audire) before (ob) the word spoken: it is the attitude of truly open dialogue, of total trust. If you put your ear to the word it is because you know that word is love; you can hear it without fear.

 

The hymn ends with "every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father": the glory referred to here is the manifestation, the revelation of infinite love; it is love personified. Christ carries love to its highest height, even to the point of accepting death to show us the extent of God’s love. Thus we can say with the centurion, "Yes, truly, this one is the Son of God "... because God is love.

 

GOSPEL - Mt 26, 14-27, 66

 

Jesus stood before the governor, Pontius Pilate, who questioned him,

“Are you the king of the Jews?”

Jesus said, “You say so.”

And when he was accused by the chief priests and elders,

he made no answer.

Then Pilate said to him,

“Do you not hear how many things they are testifying against you?”

But he did not answer him one word,

so that the governor was greatly amazed.

 

Now on the occasion of the feast

the governor was accustomed to release to the crowd

one prisoner whom they wished.

And at that time they had a notorious prisoner called Barabbas.

So when they had assembled, Pilate said to them,

“Which one do you want me to release to you,

Barabbas, or Jesus called Christ?”

For he knew that it was out of envy

that they had handed him over.

While he was still seated on the bench,

his wife sent him a message,

“Have nothing to do with that righteous man.

I suffered much in a dream today because of him.”

The chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds

to ask for Barabbas but to destroy Jesus.

The governor said to them in reply,

“Which of the two do you want me to release to you?”

They answered, “Barabbas!”

Pilate said to them,

“Then what shall I do with Jesus called Christ?”

They all said,

“Let him be crucified!”

But he said,

“Why? What evil has he done?”

They only shouted the louder,

“Let him be crucified!”

When Pilate saw that he was not succeeding at all,

but that a riot was breaking out instead,

he took water and washed his hands in the sight of the crowd,

saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood.

Look to it yourselves.”

And the whole people said in reply,

“His blood be upon us and upon our children.”

Then he released Barabbas to them,

but after he had Jesus scourged,

he handed him over to be crucified.

 

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus inside the praetorium

and gathered the whole cohort around him.

They stripped off his clothes

and threw a scarlet military cloak about him.

Weaving a crown out of thorns, they placed it on his head,

and a reed in his right hand.

And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying,

“Hail, King of the Jews!”

They spat upon him and took the reed

and kept striking him on the head.

And when they had mocked him,

they stripped him of the cloak,

dressed him in his own clothes,

and led him off to crucify him.

 

As they were going out, they met a Cyrenian named Simon;

this man they pressed into service

to carry his cross.

 

And when they came to a place called Golgotha

— which means Place of the Skull —,

they gave Jesus wine to drink mixed with gall.

But when he had tasted it, he refused to drink.

After they had crucified him,

they divided his garments by casting lots;

then they sat down and kept watch over him there.

And they placed over his head the written charge against him:

This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.

Two revolutionaries were crucified with him,

one on his right and the other on his left.

Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying,

“You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days,

save yourself, if you are the Son of God,

and come down from the cross!”

Likewise the chief priests with the scribes and elders mocked him and said,

“He saved others; he cannot save himself.

So he is the king of Israel!

Let him come down from the cross now,

and we will believe in him.

He trusted in God;

let him deliver him now if he wants him.

For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”

The revolutionaries who were crucified with him

also kept abusing him in the same way.

 

From noon onward, darkness came over the whole land

until three in the afternoon.

And about three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice,

“Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”

which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Some of the bystanders who heard it said,

“This one is calling for Elijah.”

Immediately one of them ran to get a sponge;

he soaked it in wine, and putting it on a reed,

gave it to him to drink.

But the rest said,

‘Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to save him.”

But Jesus cried out again in a loud voice,

and gave up his spirit.

 

Here all kneel and pause for a short time.

 

And behold, the veil of the sanctuary

was torn in two from top to bottom.

The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened,

and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised.

And coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection,

they entered the holy city and appeared to many.

The centurion and the men with him who were keeping watch over Jesus

feared greatly when they saw the earthquake

and all that was happening, and they said,

“Truly, this was the Son of God!”

 

Commentary

 

Each year on Palm Sunday we read the story of the Passion from one of the three synoptic Gospels. This year it is from the Gospel of Matthew, and certain episodes are uniquely his. Overall, the four gospel accounts of the Passion are very similar, but if we look a little closer, we see that each of the evangelists has his own emphasis. This is not surprising; after all, those who witness the same event usually recount the facts in their own way. The evangelists relate the event of the Passion of Christ in four different ways; they do not recount all the same events or use the same wording.

 

 So what seems to be characteristic of Matthew’s account? First, we have the impression that Matthew wants to highlight what for him was the terrible paradox of this drama: that other than Jesus’ family and a few disciples, the majority of the Jews, who ought to have been the ones closest to Jesus, have instead ignored him, despised him and humiliated him. In contrast, it is the others, the Gentiles who have unknowingly given Jesus his true titles of nobility.

 

We can’t help but note the abundance of titles given to Jesus in these few lines, which cover his last few hours of life on earth. This crushed man, wounded in body and dignity, reviled, accused of blasphemy, which was the worst of sins in the eyes of his contemporaries, is at the same time honored by strangers who quite unknowingly award him the highest titles of the Jewish religion: King of the Jews, Messiah, righteous man, and finally, Son of God.

 

The first title, King of the Jews: The governor, Pontius Pilate, asks him, “Are you the king of the Jews?" To which Jesus answers, "You say so," which seems to express agreement. In Matthew’s Gospel, these words are virtually Jesus’ last before his death. All during his trial and execution, he will say nothing, until the moment of his death when he will utter a Jewish prayer from Psalm 22: "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me” - the thanksgiving prayer of the people of Israel in recognition of God’s saving actions even from the worst dangers.

 

The title King of the Jews is applied three more times to Jesus, but always in a mocking way, to insult him, to ridicule his claims. First it is the Roman soldiers who have a go at him: they dress him up as king; after he has been flogged, they throw a red coat on him, improvise a crown and a scepter, kneel before him, and pay him the homage supposedly due to his rank ... One can imagine how after the resurrection, Christians would remember this sinister comedy: designed to humiliate him, it failed to erase the glory of his true kingship. It is Matthew after all who reported the words of Jesus: "the powers of death will not prevail...”

 

Then there is the sign on the cross, with the inscription: "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews." Matthew has already had the opportunity to tell his readers the meaning of the name Jesus; when the angel announced the birth to Joseph, he said, "You are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins "(Mt 1, 21). So here in this simple inscription we have the mystery of Jesus: king and savior of his people, which was exactly what was expected of the Messiah.

 

And thirdly, religious leaders, chief priests, scribes and elders affirm in turn that this is “the king of Israel”, always to ridicule Jesus of course, but by dwelling on this title, Matthew lets us understand that "they do not know how right they are! "

 

Second title - Messiah: it is given by Pilate twice and together these two statements frame another equally important statement about Jesus, from the mouth of Pilate’s wife this time, therefore from a pagan; she had a revelation and she speaks of a dream (and we know the importance of dreams in Matthew’s Gospel). Here she accords Jesus the most noble of Old Testament titles, that of the “righteous man”. She too does not understand the scope of the words she utters, but a few years later (and even today) Christians celebrating the death and resurrection of Christ are forced to recognize that it was pagans, foreign nationals belonging to the occupying nation, who were the first to tell the truth about Jesus, at the very moment that he was apparently being removed from world history.

 

Finally, the third title, Son of God: it is first conferred on him out of pure derision, to further humiliate him, by passersby who cruelly point out to the agonizing man the contrast between the grandeur of the title above his head and his permanent impotence. Then once again it is the chief priests, the scribes and elders who defy him: if he really were the Son of God, he would not be on a cross. They have a point, for it is true that certain statements in the Old Testament were often read in this sense. However the title of Son of God will finally be given to Jesus by the Roman centurion;  in his mouth it sounds like a true profession of faith: "Truly, this was the Son of God!"

 

Here I have the impression that this title given to Jesus is really the culmination of the story. This sentence foreshadows the conversion of the Gentiles, and we understand Saint Matthew’s message: for him Christ’s death is not a failure, it is a victory.

 

If Matthew accentuates the contrast between the weakness of the condemned man and the greatness nevertheless ascribed to him by some pagans, it is to make us understand what at first sight is unthinkable: it is in his very weakness that Jesus manifests his true greatness, which is the greatness or glory of God, that is to say, the breadth of infinite love. It is not a glory that shines in spite of the cross, or a glory earned through the cross, as a sort of compensation; it is glory in and through the cross. It is the revelation of supreme love, the revelation of the God of Love. Jesus had already given the meaning of his death when he said, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends"; this helps us better understand his words to the disciples of Emmaus three days later: "Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" That is to say, to reveal God’s love?

 

Translated with permission by Simone Baryliuk, from: Dimanche 13 avril: commentaires de Marie Noëlle Thabut

http://www.eglise.catholique.fr/foi-et-vie-chretienne/commentaires-de-marie-noelle-thabut.html