Answering the Questions of the Passion, Good Friday, April 10, 2020

Fr. Roger J. Landry
Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion
Good Friday 2020
April 10, 2020
Is 52:13-53:12, Ps 31, Heb 4:14-16.5:7-9, Jn 18:1-19:42

To listen to an audio recording of today’s Passion service, please click below:

The following text guided the homily: 

As we come together as a tiny band of disciples as a result of the ongoing restrictions caused by the Covid-19 pandemic, the particular beauty of such a small commemoration of the Lord’s Passion is that we have nowhere to hide. We cannot be bystanders or detached spectators. We are almost compelled, like Simon of Cyrene, or the Blessed Mother, John, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the wife of Clopas, to participate actively.

To participate actively as we see Jesus, as Isaiah prophetically describes him centuries before in today’s first reading, “marred … beyond human semblance, … spurned and avoided by people, a man of suffering … from whom people hide their faces, spurned and … held in no esteem,” bearing our infirmities, enduring our sufferings, “pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins, … like a lamb led to the slaughter, … silent, … oppressed and condemned, … cut off from the land of the living, smitten for the sin of his people.”

To participate actively when, as we heard in the Letter to the Hebrews, “he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death.”

To participate actively when various leaders of the Scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees, and Sanhedin, together with the cooperation of Judas Iscariot, Pontius Pilate, Herod Antipas and sadistic Roman Soldiers, got their way, when Jesus’ words to the apostles, that he would be “handed over to the Chief Priests and the scribes and they will condemn him to death and hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified” (Mt 20:17) were fulfilled.

If we are going to enter interiorly into the Lord’s passion, if we are going to become deeply conscious of the way each of us is implicated in what Christ suffered and why (Jn 10:18), then one of the ways is to take personally the questions that are asked throughout the Passion narrative we just heard. These questions bring us into the heart of what is happening and are meant to influence the way we prayerfully unite ourselves to Jesus not only on Good Friday but throughout our life.

We can examine five different questions today.

The first is, “Whom are you looking for?” This query, made by Jesus of the soldiers accompanying Judas to arrest him, reminds us of the question he first asked of John and Andrew after Jesus passed John the Baptist at the Jordan and John pointed Jesus out as the Lamb of God. John and Andrew began ineffectively to tail Jesus, but Jesus, sensing their presence, turned around and asked, “What are you looking for?” They stammered to ask where he was staying and Jesus replied, “Come and you will see.” (Jn 1:37-8). Jesus asks us today, like he asked the future apostles, like he asked the guards, whom and what we’re seeking and why. He wants to have us follow him to see not only where he dwells on Good Friday but what is behind the vestibule of Golgotha. But we need to examine our desires and motivations: What are we really looking for with Jesus?

So many during Jesus’ time were looking for a political messiah to kick out the Romans, which Jesus was not. Others were seeking someone to cure their illnesses, heal their infirmities, expiate their demons, but Jesus’ mission was far greater than that. Others were coming to him because they had eaten their fill of the loaves and wanted another free meal. Others were convening to hear him preach, because he taught with an authority and freshness they couldn’t find among their rabbis or the scribes and Pharisees. Others were coming to him in desperation as a last resort when all of their other interventions, human efforts and even prayers failed. And so across the centuries, many have had a wide variety of reasons to follow Jesus.

Jesus asks today why are we here. What are we looking for? Whom do we seek? During his public ministry, he warned people that to follow him meant to prefer him over our family, over our property, over even our own life. He reminded us that he had nowhere to lay his head. He conditioned our discipleship on denying ourselves, picking up the instrument of our own crucifixion each day and following him. Are we seeking the real Jesus, with his “sacred head surrounded by crown of piercing thorn,” or some other less threatening phantasm?

The second query is, “Can you keep watch with me for an hour?” Jesus asks this question of his three closest followers, the three who were with him at the Transfiguration, the three who accompanied him to raise the daughter of Jairus from the dead. He had told Peter, James and John to stay awake and pray so that they might not undergo and flunk the test of fidelity, because the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Even though they clearly loved the Lord Jesus, even though they were willing to die for him, they were at the time too feeble. Their bodies betrayed them, not just the desire for a little shut-eye in Gethsemane but for self-preservation a little time later.

Jesus asked them to pray with him for a little while. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted their solidarity, their company, with him in his Mission. In 2012, Pope Benedict preached that Jesus“does not want to be left alone. … He wants at least three disciples to be near him, to be in a closer relationship with him. This is a spatial closeness, a plea for solidarity at the moment in which he feels death approaching, but above all it is closeness in prayer, in a certain way to express harmony with him at the moment when he is preparing to do the Father’s will to the very end; and it is an invitation to every disciple to follow him on the Way of Cross.” Pope Benedict continued, “The Gospel accounts of Gethsemane regretfully show that the three disciples, chosen by Jesus to be close to him, were unable to watch with him, sharing in his prayer, in his adherence to the Father and they were overcome by sleep.” And then he prayed, “Let us ask the Lord to enable us to keep watch with him in prayer, to follow the will of God every day even if he speaks of the Cross, to live in ever greater intimacy with the Lord.”

Just like he wanted their spatial closeness and solidarity, their sharing in his prayer and adherence to the Father, so he wants ours. Can we make the time each day to keep watch with Christ in prayer? Can he who gave us life, every nanosecond of every day, count on our consecrating that gift and growing in friendship, in love, with him? Our flesh is weak, too, and for us to be faithful, our spiritual weight room — not just on Good Friday but each day — is prayer. As we behold him on the Cross today for us and our salvation, will we make the commitment to spend not just a few minutes left over in prayer with him, but the first fruits of our day? And if he specified an hour, can we give him a holy hour?

The first two questions come to a head in the third, “You are not that man’s disciple, are you?,” made by the servant in the high priest’s courtyard of St. Peter. This question helps us not only to recognize the importance of having a strengthened flesh but also to see the concrete decision we need to make for Jesus. It’s somewhat easy for us at a notional level to say that we’re disciples, but what will we say when the going gets tough? When we may have to suffer for the faith? When we may need to lose family members or friends, or livelihood, or life? There are some shocking words at the end of today’s second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews. The sacred author tells us that Jesus “learned obedience from what he suffered and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who,” not believe in him, but “obey ” Salvation is offered to those who prove to be disciples, who put Jesus’ words into practice, who deny themselves, pick up their cross and follow him. Faith must lead to our action.

A couple of weeks ago I watched the recent movie on Blessed Franz Jagerstatter, A Hidden Life. There was one scene in it when Franz was with an artist in the village Church where Franz was a volunteer sacristan. The artist was painting an image of Jesus but he said he really longed to be able to paint one not of a beautiful Jesus, but of the real Jesus on Calvary, body torn apart, blood pouring down his face and from his wounds, a true icon of Isaiah’s words today, that there was nothing in his “appearance that would attract us to him.” The artist was saying this during the time of the Nazi takeover of Austria and so many Christians were capitulating to the National Socialists. He concluded with words that were hard to forget. He said that he wanted to portray the real Christ because Christ has many “admirers” but few “followers.” Jagerstatter proved to be a true follower when he remained faithful to his conscience all the way until the Nazis beheaded him, faithful despite his soft parish priest and soft bishop trying to persuade him to take a Nazi oath falsely just to save his life in this world. What about us? Do we do more than merely admire the Lord. Do we follow him? Are we prepared, as he said, to lose our life to save it? To go the way of the grain of wheat? To be crucified with Christ? To be a Christian disciple means to do more than wear a Crucifix or venerate one on Good Friday. To be a Christian means to be a Simon of Cyrene and help Jesus carry his Cross. It means to relive in our own life the Second Station and take up our own Cross and allow Jesus to be Simon to us. It means ultimately to yoke ourselves, as body to head, as bride to Bridegroom, to Jesus on the Cross. Is that our intention?

The fourth question is Jesus’ question to Pontius Pilate, “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?,” after Pilate questions Jesus whether he is a king. This question brings up whether we really known Jesus or simply know about him from others, whether parents, grandparents, Popes, priests, religious, friends, youtube videos, podcasts or other means. There are many things we cannot borrow. One is faith. Another is friendship. Jesus wants us to take personal responsibility for our relationship with him, for asking the tougher questions if necessary and in response to his questions, making the existential responses. He wants our “I” in the “I believe.” The context of this question was about the Kingdom Christ had come to inaugurate, and so we can ask: Do we believe Jesus before Pilate is a king about to enter into his reign? When we look at him, do we behold our king, our leader, whom we seek to serve? Do we want to enter into his kingdom, recognizing that his kingdom is not of this world, and that the greats of his kingdom wash others’ feet, become servants of the rest, drink the chalice of his suffering, are poor in spirit, trust in him like little children, obey him with love and teach others to do the same? Is our faith based on a trust and commitment of ourselves to Jesus, and because of that trust, in what he teaches and promises, or is it second-hand, or something that we follow because others follow?

The last question we’ll ponder is Pilate’s, “Whom do you want me to release to you?” The choice between Jesus and Barabbas is at the surface an easy one for anyone perhaps except for Barabbas’ mother. None of us would choose Barabbas directly. But Barabbas is the most disguised figure in human history. He takes on the appearance of anyone opposed to Jesus. If Jesus, however, were pitted against someone we really loved, or someone who was making us choose between Jesus and someone we really loved, perhaps a spouse, or parent, or child, or boss, or best friend, what would happen then? What if Jesus were pitted against allof them? Would he choose him over the whole world? Is he truly the pearl of great price for which we would sell everything else, or do we have a price for which we would sell him out to have someone or something else? Archbishop Sheen wrote in his meditations on the Way of the Cross: “How would I have answered that question had I been in the courtyard that Good Friday morning? I cannot escape answering by saying that the question belongs only to the past, for it is as actual now as ever. My conscience is the tribunal of Pilate. Daily, hourly, and every minute of the day, Christ comes before that tribunal, as virtue, honesty, and purity. Barabbas comes as vice, dishonesty, and uncleanness. As often as I choose to speak the uncharitable word, do the dishonest action, or consent to the evil thought, I say in so many words, ‘Release unto me Barabbas.’ And to choose Barabbas means to crucify Christ.”

All five of these questions are really variations on the same theme: Who really is Jesus Christ and do I believe in him enough to follow him, as he asks, all the way? As we see today, the narrow road to life that we call the Via Crucis is very difficult. It can be difficult, if not occasionally excruciating, to seek first Jesus and his kingdom, to defend and profess him under pressure, to make the daily commitment of substantial time with him, to grow in our personal friendship with him, and to choose him over everyone and everything. It requires faith and perseverance — and a lot of divine help. But that’s what the Letter to the Hebrews promises us today. The sacred author tells us, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.” Jesus understands our weaknesses and is praying for us, so we can approach him confidently to receive his help at every time — and his forgiveness for when we don’t live up.

We finish with the words of what has always been for me the most moving of all Lenten hymns. It talks about the personal love Jesus poured out today to the extreme for each of us and what the only fitting response must be. As we behold Jesus on the Cross, the happiest person who has ever lived at the moment of his supreme triumph, the one we seek, our King to whom we pray and for whom we are proud to be disciples, we ask his timely help to live this confession:“When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride. Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God. All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood. See from His head, His hands, His feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown? Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”

The readings for today’s Commemoration were: