Homily - 24 March 2024 - Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion (B)

Dear brothers and sisters,

As we enter into this holiest of weeks, we hear the great cry of “Hosanna” (Mark 11:9, 10)! Not only do we hear it, but we shout it ourselves. Though the Gloria and the Creed are sometimes omitted from the offering of the Holy Mass, the exclamation of “Hosanna!” is never omitted.

This word itself is not unknown to us; we sing or say it, as we said, every time we participate in the Holy Mass, but today “Hosanna!” takes on a special significance. Yet, what is this word? What does it mean and why we still shout it today?

“Hosanna” is a combination of two Hebrew words: hosa, meaning “save”, and na, meaning “now” or “please.” It began not as a command but a plea, a cry for salvation. It is not the imploring of salvation far off in some distant future, but the imploring of salvation immediately, right now. Today, we join the crowd in their shout of “Hosanna!” Save us, Lord, now!  Save us, Lord, please!

The use of this word is recorded in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John (cf. Matthew 21:9; Mark 11:9-10; and John 12:13). It is found in the Old Testament only in verse 25 of Psalm 118, a hymn of thanksgiving, where our English translation renders it, “Lord, grant salvation! Lord, grant good fortune,” a definite plea for help (Psalm 118:25)! Curiously, though, it very quickly took on a rather different meaning and became a shout of praise, a cry of jubilation and hope. In the very next verse, the Psalmist sang of the pilgrim entering the gates of the Temple, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” a definite cry of gladness (Psalm 118:26).

With the shouting of these two verses by the crowds as Jesus rode into the royal city, 

…we find an expression of the complex emotions of the pilgrims accompanying Jesus and of his disciples: joyful praise of God at the moment of the processional entry, hope that the hour of the Messiah, and at the same time a prayer that the Davidic kingship and hence God’s kingship over Israel would be reestablished.[1]

Because of this change in meaning over the course of time, Saint Augustine called the word “rather a state of mind than having any positive significance; just as in our own tongue we have what are called interjections, as when in our grief we say, ‘Alas!’ Or in our joy, ‘Ha!’ Or in our admiration, O how fine!’”[2] In short, it became an exclamation with multiple meanings, encompassing both a cry for deliverance and an expression of gladness.

We take up these same two verses at every Mass to raise of plea for salvation, for help, and to express the confident hope that our help and salvation has already come and is present among us in Jesus Christ, present in the Eucharist. It is as if every day were Palm Sunday.

Though at first filled with a fervent excitement at Jesus’ arrival, the crowd soon changed their opinion of him when it became clear he came not as a conquering king, but as a humble servant of love. They did not recognize him for whom they longed; they did not know him in whom they already rejoiced.

Just as Christ Jesus entered into the city of Jerusalem, so he wishes to enter into each one of our hearts.

In his hour, Jesus reveals that he is a Messiah who becomes weak because of love.

 

He does not eliminate frailty and weakness, but makes them the site of the greatest revelation of his love.

 

For all of us, inconstant and unable to let ourselves be loved in this way, Jesus enters Jerusalem, not turning back, just asking us to look up to see how far goes the love of the King who chose peace.[3]

In this Holy Week, let us welcome the Messiah into our hearts. May we look and see what love looks like. And may we both cry out for salvation and shout for joy, “Hosanna to the Son of David” (Matthew21:9). Amen.

---

[1] Joseph Ratzinger / Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011), 7.

[2] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 51.2.

[3] Pierbattista Cardinal Pizzaballa, Meditation, 24 March 2024.

Homily - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord - 2 April 2023

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion (A)

At the Mass

Dear brothers and sisters,

They say the clothes make the man.[1] This is no less true of Jesus than it is for us. What do I mean by this?

We heard a moment ago how the Roman soldiers “stripped off [Jesus’] clothes and threw a scarlet military cloak about him” (Matthew 27:28). They did this, of course, in mockery of his claim to royal dignity, which had been subtle before but with his entrance into Jerusalem became unmistakable.

From our vantage point, we might well say the attempt of the soldiers to ridicule Jesus backfired. By stripping him of his everyday clothes and mantling him in scarlet, they inadvertently showed forth the reality both of his kingship and of his sacrificial victimhood, each of which originates in his divine love.

In the days of the Roman Empire, the scarlet cloak – called the saum – was worn as a symbol of imperial power. That cloak placed in outward jest around Jesus manifested his integral majesty. His kingship, however, is not one founded on earthly power, but on the authority of his love.

Matthias Storm, Christ Crowned with Thorns

Just as Jesus’ love gives rise to his kingship, so does it give rise to sacrificial victimhood. Similarly, as the scarlet cloak points to Jesus’ majesty, it also points to his victimhood, his loving offering of himself to the Father to bring about our redemption and salvation.

“The history of religions knows the figure of the mock king – related to the figure of the ‘scapegoat’.”[2] On the feast of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the Jewish High Priest was instructed by God to atone for the sins of the entire people:

Laying both hands on [the goat’s] head, he shall confess over it all the iniquities of the Israelites and their trespasses, and so put them on the goat’s head. He shall then have it led into the wilderness by an attendant. The goat will carry off their iniquities to an isolated region (Leviticus 16:21-22).

There is, though, an important aspect of the ceremonies involving the scapegoat that the Book of Leviticus does not record: a band of scarlet wool was tied to the scapegoat before it was led out into the desert.[3]

When the soldiers placed the scarlet cloak upon Jesus, it was as if they tied a scarlet band onto the true and willing scapegoat in accord with the ancient prophecy of Isaiah: “But the Lord laid upon him the guilt of us all” (Isaiah 53:6). The high priest chose the scapegoat by lot; Jesus, however, is not chosen by lot; rather, he freely offers himself in love. He who committed no sin lovingly took our sins upon his shoulders – he allowed himself to be made sin, as Saint Paul says – and took our sins to the Cross to remove them from us (cf. II Corinthians 5:21). “By a strange coincidence that was not by chance,” we see that “the soldiers were actually accomplishing what those rites and ceremonies were unable to achieve: ‘Upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we were healed’ (Isaiah 53:5).”[4]

As we enter into this Holy Week, may the Lord grant us to see what the soldiers did not see. May the experience of the kingship and victimhood of Jesus lead us to abandon ourselves more fully into the boundless depths of his love. May we know the merciful ways of his regal and sacrificial heart. Amen.

---

[1] Cf. Desiderius Erasmus, Adagia, 3.1.60.

[2] Joseph Ratzinger / Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011), 199.

[3] Cf. Epistle of Barnabas, 7.8.

[4] Jean Hani, The Divine Liturgy: Insights into its Mystery (Kettering, Ohio: Angelico Press, 2016), 20; Joseph Ratzinger / Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week, 199.

Homily - 5 April 2020 - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

Dear brothers and sisters,

It seems a strange thing that as today we commemorate those “crowds preceding [Jesus] and those following” him as he made his way into his royal city of Jerusalem that we find ourselves staying at home (Matthew 21:9). We do not want to be at home today and would rather join those crowds, yet here we are. The motivations for our desiring to join that great throng may be holy or social or something altogether different, but we understand we should be among them. What are we to make of this?

Unknown, Osnabrück alterpiece, Westphalia, 1370s

In Saint Matthew’s account of the Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem, he provides a curious detail of those crowds. There appears to be two different crowds, one leading Jesus and one following him. In years past, in which crowd have we walked? Today, in which crowd would we prefer to be? In years to come, in which crowd will we be found?

We might say that that crowd which preceded Jesus did so out of a desire to lead him, to guide him, to show him what he should be doing and how he should be doing it. Some, perhaps, were like Saint Peter, who once said to Jesus, after he predicted his coming Passion and Death, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (Matthew 16:22). Can you imagine such a thing, Peter rebuking his Lord? However foolish, however bold, however arrogant, Peter’s intentions were good, though they were misguided. Jesus was not doing what Peter expected. How often do we imitate Peter in this? How often do we try to pick out the Lord’s path for him, thinking we somehow know better?

We might say that that crowd which followed Jesus did so because they allowed his teachings to penetrate their hearts, or at least because they desired to do so. And yet, it was only a few hours later when this crowd, like the one preceding him, abandoned Jesus because he did not do what they expected of him. Though they allowed his teachings to penetrate their hearts, they did not let his teachings take hold in their hearts. Like that crowd,

We want an almighty and strong God; we want to have faith in a God who gives us certainties and security. That reassures us in this sea of ​​fears and uncertainties in which we now find ourselves.

However, the Gospel tells us that the Christian faith is based on hope and love, not on certainty. He won’t solve all our problems, He won’t give us all the certainties that our human nature needs, but He won’t leave us alone.[1]

Have we allowed Jesus’ teachings to penetrate our hearts? How often do we fail to live up to them? How often do we also walk away from him when he does not do what we think he should?

In his homily this morning, His Holiness Pope Francis approached the motivations of these two crowds – of us - from a different perspective. He said:

Let us look within. If we are honest with ourselves, we will see our infidelities. How many falsehoods, hypocrisies and duplicities! How many good intentions betrayed! How many broken promises! How many resolutions left unfulfilled! The Lord knows our hearts better than we do. He knows how weak and irresolute we are, how many times we fall, how hard it is for us to get up and how difficult it is to heal certain wounds. And what did he do in order to come to our aid and serve us? He told us through the Prophet: “I will heal their faithlessness; I will love them deeply” (Hosea 14:5). He healed us by taking upon himself our infidelity and by taking from us our betrayals.[2]

How often do we want to go before Jesus, to precede him, and tell him what to do? How often do we want to follow Jesus, to get behind him, and go wherever he leads?

Although we cannot physically join those crowds today to greet Christ the King, that does not mean we should not strive to determine where our deepest loyalty lies, with him or with ourselves. Rather than welcoming him into the holy city of Jerusalem, we can welcome him today into the inner recesses of our hearts with exultant shouts. Let us renew in these days our desire not to precede Jesus, not to lead him, but to follow him faithfully until we can join with each other together to sing, “Hosanna to the Son of David” (Matthew 21:9). Amen.

---

[1] Pierbattista Pizzaballa, Homily, 5 April 2020.

[2] Pope Francis, Homily, 5 April 2020.

Homily - Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion, At the Mass - 24 March 2018

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

At the Mass

MS M.44 fol. 6r

Dear brothers and sisters,

The character of the Apostle Saint Peter is an intriguing one. He is a man who both loves Jesus deeply and one who repeatedly resists his will. We see this today as we reflect on the Passion of the Lord. It is Saint Peter’s loving devotion to Jesus that draws him to that fire in the courtyard of the high priest, while the others, except for John, had fled. And it is his repeated resistance to the will of the Lord that keeps him at the fire. Is our love for Jesus strong enough to bring us to the fire? Is our resistance to his will stubborn enough to keep as at the fire?

We also find something curious in the dialogue with those bystanders at the fire. As he answers their questions,

Peter cannot bring himself even to mention the name of Jesus: ‘I do not know this man about whom you are talking.’ His denial has progressed from evasion (cf. Mark 14:68) to outright repudiation (cf. Mark 14:70) to perjury (cf. Mark 14:71). But there is an ironic truth in his denial: he does not yet truly know Jesus.[1]

In this, Saint Peter is a man very much like many of us. As we enter this most holy of weeks, do we truly know Jesus? How often do we evade answering questions or about speaking about Jesus?

During this week in which we reflect upon the most important events ever to have happened in the universe, we can draw near to Saint Peter at the fire. It is at that fire that we can each begin

to meditate on [Jesus’] passion [and] begin to be illumined by the fire of divine love that radiates from the heart of Jesus through every moment of his sufferings, to begin to experience that in his passion he loved me and gave himself for me (Gal 2:20).[2]

The closer we draw near to this fire of divine love, the more we can understand and experience the mercy of Christ. The more we allow his heart to warm our own, the more we will desire to become like him and warm the colder areas of our own lives.

We find another curious aspect in that alabaster jar from which the woman anointed the feet of Jesus. The Greek word that our translation gives as “broke” literally means “shattered;” “the woman gives up any possibility of reusing the flask or saving some of its contents” (Mark 14:3).[3] Her action was more than a physical one; it carried a deeper meaning with it. She withheld nothing from the Lord Jesus and placed her very being at his service; may we, too, not be afraid of being known by Jesus and shatter the jars of our stubbornness, pride, and self-absorption at his feet. Let us place ourselves fully in his service and so be transformed and renewed by the power of his love. Amen.

---

[1] Mary Healy, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scriptures: The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2008), 303.

[2] Ibid., 302

[3] Ibid., 277

Homily - 9 April 2017 - At the Mass - What will we do with our palms?

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

At the Mass

Dear brothers and sisters,

As we enter this church dedicated to the honor of Saint Agnes, we pass by an image of our heavenly patroness holding both a lamb and a palm branch in her hands. She holds a lamb both to signify her name – which, in Latin, is related to agnus, the word for lamb – and to point us to the Lamb of God. She holds a palm in her other hand to signify her victory in Christ, to show that when faced with death she refused to renounce him who died for her.

In the ancient pagan world, after winning a competition, athletes were given a palm as a symbol of their victory over their competitors. Within the Jewish world, the palm then became a symbol of celebration, which is why the Psalmist commanded the people to “join in procession with leafy branches up to the horns of the altar” (Psalm 118:27). The Lord commanded the people to take “branches of palm trees, and boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook” and “rejoice before the Lord” (Leviticus 23:40). The palm was also seen as a symbol of righteousness, which is why the Psalmist also sang, “The just shall flourish like the palm tree” (Psalm 92:13). The palm also came to symbolize the victory of the Lord’s anointed, which is why the people “bearing ivy-wreathed wands and beautiful branches and also fronds of palm … offered hymns of thanksgiving to him who had given success to the purifying of his own holy place” (II Maccabees 10:7).

For the early Christians, the palm – without losing any of this symbolism - took on a further significance as a symbol of Christ’s victory over sin and death and of the martyrs’ sharing in the triumph of Christ’s Cross. In his vision of the heavenly court, Saint John saw “a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands” (Revelation 7:9). Saint Agnes, then, stands before the throne of God holding a palm branch in her hand to show she now rejoices because she was purified through her sharing in the sufferings of Christ. She holds her palm as a symbol of her victory; what will we do with the palms we carry today?

Some, like much of that crowd that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem and then forsook, will leave their palms behind and go home without them, not seeing Jesus for who he is. Others will take them home and throw them away. Still others will play with them as swords, or weave them into crosses or other designs. Some will place them behind a crucifix or an image of Jesus. They will see these palms for what they are, continual reminders Jesus’ victory over sin and death and of his call for us to share in it.

This morning, as Christians gathered for the celebration of Palm Sunday, two bombs exploded in Egypt. The first, near the altar in the church of St. George in city of Tanta, killing at least 27 Coptic Christians and wounding more than 60 others. The second, at the Cathedral of St. Mark in Alexandria, where Pope Tawadros II offered the holy Mass, killing at least 13 Coptic Christians and wounding more than 66 others. The Islamic State claimed responsibility for both attacks.[1] In recent days, it warned of attacks in Egypt planned for Palm Sunday, yet still these Christians – knowing the danger - gathered to carry their palms to go with Jesus into Jerusalem to share in the fruits of his Passion. Today, our brothers and sisters in Christ have carried their palms not back to their homes, but into heaven. Now they stand before the throne and the Lamb in the company of Saint Agnes, of Saint George, and of Saint Mark, wearing white robes and holding their trophies of victory in Christ. What will we do with our palms?

As we enter into this Holy Week, let us pray that in every aspect of our lives we might testify that Jesus Christ is Lord (cf. Philippians 2:11). Amen.

---

[1] Magdy Samaan and Declan Walsh, “ISIS Claims 2 Deadly Explosions at Egyptian Coptic Churches on Palm Sunday,” New York Times, 9 April 2017.

Homily - 9 April 2017 - At the Blessing of Palms - Let our minds conform to what our bodies do

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

At the Blessing of Palms

Dear brothers and sisters,

Saint Thomas More once expressed his hope and desire “that whatever our bodies may be doing, we would at the same time constantly lift up our minds to God (which is the most acceptable form of prayer).”[1] These words are a good reminder to us who, as we enter into this Holy Week, will soon join in a joyful procession into the church. As our minds may be distracted by the assembly not all singing at the same time or by fears that we might be poked in the eye by another person’s palm, it is good for us to reminder why we do today what we do.

We have gathered today to commemorate the triumphant entry of the Lord Jesus into Jerusalem and to shout with those who welcomed him into the holy city, “Hosanna to the son of David” (Matthew 21:9)! This ancient word that we use at every celebration of the Holy Mass originated as “a word of urgent supplication, meaning like: Come to our aid! The priests would repeat it in a monotone on the seventh day of the Feast of Tabernacles, while processing seven times around the altar of sacrifice, as an urgent prayer for rain. But as the Feast of Tabernacles gradually changed from a feast of petition into one of praise, so too the cry for help turned more and more into a shout of jubilation.”[2]

As we process with these blessed palms, with these symbols of victory, let us conform our minds to what our bodies do. Let us go forth to meet Christ our King with glad shouts of praise confident in the power of his love.

---

[1] Saint Thomas More, The Sadness of Christ and Final Prayers and Benedictions, trans. Clarence Miller (New York: Scepter Publishers, 1993), 21.

[2] Joseph Ratzinger / Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth, Part Two: Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011), 6-7.