Passion
Sunday always has us reading the Passion story.
This year, it’s from Luke [Luke 22:14—23:56], set up by a reading from
Isaiah [Isaiah 50:4-7] and from Saint Paul's letter to the Philippians. The
passion story isn’t a tragedy. Jesus
accepted His role, His mission. He Humbled
himself, obediently accepting His life and His death for me, and for all of us
[Philippians 2:6-11].
It’s
sometimes hard to get deeply moved by a story so familiar, so I find that I have to prepare to pray through
it, in the sense that I'm talking with myself, and with the Lord, during it,
just as I’m hearing it during Mass. My
soliloquy may go something like this:
Lord, I'm so familiar with this Last
Supper story, but today I want to especially listen so that I'm more deeply
grateful at this Eucharist, and can say at a deeper level, "It is right
to give him thanks and praise." Dear Lord, how do I thank You for what You
did at that supper with Your disciples?! Let me feel deeper gratitude as I hear the
story again [Luke 22:14-20]. You’re giving
us Your body and blood as food for our journey, even today at this Mass.
This garden scene moves me. You really did wrestle with this surrender,
didn't You, Lord? Thank You so much for
saying "yes," for me. The
betrayal by Judas is horrible until I remember the many times I betrayed You,
while still trying to do what I thought was "good" by some
definition. And, even there, being
betrayed and arrested, You healed—and You turned Your disciples' response from
violence [Luke 22:39-53].
Peter's denial must have stung You, Lord,
even though You knew it would happen [Luke 22:54-65]. It stings me as I think of the times and ways
I've refused to stand up to be Your disciple.
The trials—back and forth between Pilot
and Herod [Luke 23:1-16]—are so sad and such an indignity for You, Lord, and
for me experiencing it with You, whom I love. I can never say You don't understand the minor
indignities that trouble me so much.
When we, the crowd, shout,
"Away with him ..." [Luke 23:18-25], I feel the sting of it again. I remember how much You have loved me/us in
our fickle attachments and infidelities or wandering loyalties and misplaced
kinds of attachments!
Simon carried Your cross [Luke 23:26]. Let me carry Your cross in the ways You place
it on my shoulders, Lord. I so often do
it with resentment and with grumbling. I
so want to learn to do it with You. I
love that You stopped to be with the women, grieving along the way [Luke 23:27-31].
In one simple sentence the story says they
crucified You [Luke 23:33]. They nailed Your
wrists and feet to a cross and hoisted You up to hang there until You could no
longer lift Yourself up for air. You
were executed with torture—for me, for all of us. I'm hearing the story and asking You for the
grace to let it come into my heart, so that I might be more grateful for the
gift of this complete love.
Jesus, how could You have said, “Father,
forgive them, they know not what they do” [Luke 23:34]? I want to ask You, beg You, to make my heart
like Yours. Mercy from the cross! Mercy, as You were unjustly condemned, by
religious fanatics, to pay the price for my sin! Mercy that challenges every hardness in my
heart for everyone that I regard as a sinner, for everyone who drives me crazy,
everyone that I judge as not very good. Make
my heart like Yours, sharing mercy from the cross.
How I want to be like the good criminal on
the cross who asked You to remember him when You come into Your kingdom, and to
hear You promise me, "You will be with me in
Paradise." [Luke 23:39-43]. Please let me desire that communion with You
more than anything else that crowds my complicated heart!
In the end, teach me how to surrender: “Father,
into your hands I commend my spirit.” [Luke 23:44-49]. Let me put my life in Your/our Father's hands,
Lord, Jesus. Every day. Throughout my day. Even while hanging on the crosses I have to
face.
I know that
if I prepare to hear this passion this way, or in a similar way, it will move
me. And this year, of course, I'll do
what I’ve done every year since I was a small child: done before: I’ll take the
palm fronds that we get at the beginning of Mass and fashion a cross (or several
crosses) out of them and put them in various places throughout the house so
that I have a reminder with me of what this Palm Sunday of our Lord's Passion
meant for me today and for the days ahead.
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