Fifth Sunday of Lent. Today’s readings: Isaiah 50,4-7; Philippians 2,6-11; Luke 22,14–23,56
Recent events of national concern kept most people so engrossed that every possible sense of excitement over the visit of someone of the stature of Pope Francis was squeezed out of the Maltese psyche. Who could be bothered with the imminent visit of an ailing pontiff?
But then it seems as if the populace, as though aroused out of its stupor, suddenly realised that a pope was in its midst. Very soon, celebrations like those with which Palm Sunday is associated, started becoming visible as we strove to give a very warm welcome to this particular head of state.
Staging the festivities came naturally: roads lined up with innumerable people, flags and banners not strewn on the streets but raised high up, festive bands sounding glorious melodies, people in traffic jams in blocked-off side streets hoping to catch a glimpse of a man dressed in white.
A few hours later, the pope returned home, but not without troubling hearts and irking consciences. In fact, he got a fair deal of accusations, both for his words and also for his actions. A frail, elderly man with a pronounced limp could still give such a powerful nudge to the younger and stouter ones whose values are in dire need of a major overhaul.
Despite startling similarities, today our focus is on another visit, namely the Lord’s entry into Jerusalem. Up to this day, on Palm Sunday, Christians still walk from Bethphage to Jerusalem along the path Jesus travelled as he rode on a colt. Loud chants and singing fill the streets as they rejoice in Christ.
Only a few months ago the Church celebrated the feast of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Today, we see him riding humbly on a colt. There are no illusions of grandeur here, though this king was and remains worthy of the greatest glory humanity could ever give him.
The scene of Jesus who steadily and resolutely proceeds towards the Holy City does not evoke the awesome and fearful description of the messianic king mentioned in Psalm 45, where he is told: “Gird your sword on your side, you mighty one; clothe yourself with splendour and majesty. In your majesty ride forth victoriously… Let your sharp arrows pierce the hearts of the king’s enemies; let the nations fall beneath your feet.” (Ps 45:3-5).
Rather, it is the image of a lover approaching his beloved that springs to mind. The words of Song of Songs 2:8-9 are apt to describe the encounter: “Listen! My beloved! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.”
The people’s loud voices as they praised the coming king could not suppress the even louder heartbeat of the Lord, enamoured as he was of his people. Then, with broken heart, the Lord wept.
The people’s loud voices as they praised the coming king could not suppress the even louder heartbeat of the Lord, enamoured as he was of his people. Then, with broken heart, the Lord wept.
Jesus was willing not only to lay down his heavenly glory to take on human form, but he was also willing to surrender his body unto death in order to pay the full price for our redemption. The incarnation was the most he could give as God, while death on a cross was the most he could give as a human being.
St Augustine claimed that one tear shed over the passion of the Lord is more precious than a year of fasting or a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, the latter being a perilous venture in his times. A few years ago, a Muslim girl wept as she heard the passion of the Lord being read at Mass. “Did they do this to him?” she asked sobbingly. The Muslim girl cried. Will you?