Allied Sign. Enchanting Path

(Jn 12:1-11)

As his hour draws near, Christ seems to lose his official features and becomes more and more intimate, within our reach.

Dialogue with men is woven more into silent gestures than words.

After yesterday's public day, it is in this way that Jesus makes himself present in the community of family members without leaders; of brothers and sisters only.

Lord and Master without whirlwind or triumph; rather, sought after and forced into hiding.

He is welcomed into a quiet house, which leaves room for emotion, even though a warrant was hanging over him.

A church where there is an air of peace, even in the absence of security - and countervailing circumstances all around.

This is how the miserable Johannine communities of Asia Minor under Domitian lived: destitute and shunned by the outward glory, the hosanna of the crowds.

But able to heal both tensions and resistance.

He enjoyed the simple atmosphere, without barricades, of true [not just essential] relationships capable of awakening innate tendencies and feelings; opportune to transform discomforts and identifications.

The mental labyrinths of fears and 'appropriate' roles would have trapped the vital energy of sisters and brothers in an outer perimeter, with excess thought and control.

No cage, therefore, that could close the dimension of oneness in love, and of the Mystery, in the circle of influences that would empty the internal processes.

The early assemblies were small, listening, full of a desire for communion, and respectful.

Without too much pressure, they guided energies towards more natural directions. As happens among a few friends.

A climate of conversation and face to face, of wonderfully human, everyday life, which still wants to find a place in us. Where the lesser and shaky (still) restore the Master with delicate tributes.

In sharing and understanding each other, the tiny fraternities made people gasp with daily joy and new life, in the ability to coexist.

Realities transmitted to those who came from all quarters; without first configurations.

It was not yet... the church of plausible, ostentatious and mass events - which then seeks 'the full house' to assert itself eloquently, proselytise, or enrich itself like Judas with other people's resources.

They lived love in simplicity. Empathy that made anyone cross difficulties and fears.

Friendship that stirred and drew by attraction - in the gestures of tender devotion, that released spontaneity from humiliating attitudes and behaviour.

Here was the Breaking of Bread, a priceless gesture, beyond social conventions; convincing because it was an allied, free sign.

It did not reject the genuine nature of each person. The Eucharist was not an exclusive fortress.

Even today we can - like Mary - without too much compunction, anoint the Lord's feet: celebrate the Gift of a Way.

The faithful understood that their best part could be recognised not in a model circle.

In its purest state, sisters and brothers found correspondence in the people with tired feet, and in the Person of that First Coming always about to leave - living in it.

It meant serving and recognising oneself, assimilating and consecrating one's personal Path into the overall Path of the Son of God, who became a human and divine Presence that filled and convinced.

Christ's long Journey is a trace of our own: from the Father's initiative to the children's ability to welcome Him, cherish Him, venerate Him, correspond to Him - simply by approaching the 'roots'.

And not reject it, if 'lost'. Here is the homage of understanding.

Only this fills the House of Bethany - that is, the Church worth experiencing - with the fragrance of the total and living Christ. And reveals it.

In such circumstances, Jesus defends the right of love from within to express itself freely: where everything becomes possible.

Conversely, the cohabitant-habitant deprived of the "waste" of the Gratis and of an ideal Exodus without enchantment, remains stunned by the conditioning of false, all too common spiritual guides.

Opportunistic, cunningly one-sided masqueraders who weigh everything - ruining authentic life and all inner rebirth.

To internalise and live the message:

When do I behave in such a way as to spread the fragrance of gratuitousness?

Is the reality into which I am introduced a hospitable Bethany? Does it help or stifle ministerial surprises?

The arrival of the voiceless takes on the importance of an Easter event and puts everyone in celebration, or in suspicion?

Do you compromise from within... or do you seek approval first?

Immedesimation and freedom. Florilegium

"So what counts above all is the inner value of the gift. In Holy Scripture and according to evangelical categories, 'almsgiving' means first and foremost an inner gift. It means the attitude of openness 'towards the other'" [John Paul II, General Audience 28 March 1979]."Let us think of that moment when Mary washes Jesus' feet with spikenard, so costly: it is a religious moment, a moment of gratitude, a moment of love. And Judas detaches himself and makes the bitter criticism: "But this could be used for the poor!" This is the first reference I found, in the Gospel, of poverty as ideology. The ideologue does not know what love is, because he does not know how to give himself" [Pope Francis, homily s. Marta 14/05/2013].

"Let us let him enter our home. Let our lives be invaded by the irrepressible fragrance of the gift. God's immense and gratuitous love becomes flesh, it allows itself to be contemplated on the cross in all its shocking and insane radicality" [Pope Francis].

"The ointment that Mary spreads is the symbol of the nuptial communion with Jesus expressed by the Christian community. We celebrate the call of our Christian communities, represented by Mary of Bethany, to total communion with Jesus, the giver of life. It is he who transforms what should have been the funeral banquet in memory of Lazarus into a banquet of joy. It is he who transforms the unbearable stench of a dead 'quadriduan' into the perfume that floods the house with joy. It is he who protests against all the Judas of the earth, who consider the precious ointment of intimacy with God to be wasted and oppose the poor to the Lord. It is he who rejects the 'practicality' of all those who prefer the efficiency of money to any ecstasy of love, and wistfully reduce to monetary currency even that which has no price. It is he, in short, whom we must seek in the prayer of surrender, in contemplative experience and in the habit of life.

May the Lord preserve us from the error of Judas, who, insensitive to the perfume of spikenard, perceives only the jingle of money, and, instead of perceiving the lustre of oil, allows himself to be seduced by the glitter of silver. What is this perfume of ointment with which we must fill the house, and what is this good perfume of Christ that we must spread throughout the world? The perfume that must fill the house is communion. Of course, like that bought by Mary of Bethany, the oil of communion has a very expensive price. And we must pay for it, without discount, with much prayer, also because it is not a commercial product for sale in our perfume shops, nor is it the fruit of our own titanic efforts. It is a gift from God that we must implore without tiring. But we shall obtain it, I am certain of it; and its perfume will fill our whole Church' [Don Tonino Bello, Lexicon of Communion].

"There is a vertical poverty that affects us all, it is ours. Once recognised, this poverty expresses itself in a gratuitous gesture of adoration, creates the 'useless' space of the liturgy, offers God the firstfruits by taking them out of our mouths. In the life of faith there is an inevitable and lovable waste, an exaltation in pure nothingness: men and women wasting away consecrating themselves to God, time lost in prayer. Adoration is wasteful. What would the Church be if Iscariot's purse were full for the poor and the house of Bethany empty of perfume?" [V. Mannucci].

The Gospel just proclaimed takes us to Bethany, where, as the Evangelist notes, Lazarus, Martha and Mary were giving a supper for the Teacher (Jn 12: 1). This banquet in the house of Jesus' three friends was marked by presentiments of his imminent death: the six days before Easter, the suggestion of Judas, the traitor, Jesus' answer that calls to mind one of the devout burial rites, anticipated by Mary, the hint that they would not always have him with them and the attempt to put Lazarus to death that mirrors the desire to kill Jesus. In this Gospel account there is one gesture to which I would like to draw attention. Mary of Bethany "took 300 grams [a pound] of costly ointment of pure nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair" (cf. 12: 3). Mary's gesture is the expression of great faith and love for the Lord; it is not enough for her to wash the Teacher's feet with water; she sprinkles on them a great quantity of the precious perfume which as Judas protested it would have been possible to sell for 300 denarii. She did not anoint his head, as was the custom, but his feet: Mary offers Jesus the most precious thing she has and with a gesture of deep devotion. Love does not calculate, does not measure, does not worry about expense, does not set up barriers but can give joyfully; it seeks only the good of the other, surmounts meanness, pettiness, resentment and the narrow-mindedness that human beings sometimes harbour in their hearts.

Mary stood at the feet of Jesus in a humble attitude of service, the same attitude that the Teacher himself was to assume at the Last Supper, when, the fourth Gospel tells us, he "rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet" (Jn 13: 4-5), so that, he said, "you also should do as I have done to you" (v. 15): the rule of the community of Jesus is that of love which knows how to serve to the point of offering one's life. And the scent spread: "the house" the Evangelist remarks, "was filled with the fragrance of the ointment" (Jn 12: 3). The meaning of Mary's action, which is a response to God's infinite Love, spreads among all the guests; no gesture of charity and authentic devotion to Christ remains a personal event or concerns solely the relationship between the individual and the Lord. Rather, it concerns the whole Body of the Church, it is contagious: it instils love, joy and light.

"He came to his own home, and his own people received him not" (Jn 1: 11: ) Mary's action is in contrast to the attitude and words of Judas who, under the pretext of the aid to be given to the poor, conceals the selfishness and falsehood of a person closed into himself, shackled by the greed for possession and who does not let the good fragrance of divine love envelop him. Judas calculates what one cannot calculate, he enters with a mean mindset the space which is one of love, of giving, of total dedication. And Jesus, who had remained silent until that moment, intervenes defending Mary's gesture: "Let her alone, let her keep it for the day of my burial" (Jn 12: 7). Jesus understands that Mary has intuited God's love and points out that his "hour" is now approaching, the "hour" in which Love will find its supreme expression on the wood of the Cross: the Son of God gives himself so that many may have life, he descends to the abysses of death to bring man to the heights of God, who is not afraid to humble himself, to make himself "obedient, unto death, even death on a cross" (Phil 2: 8). In the Sermon in which he comments on this Gospel passage St Augustine addresses each one of us, with insistent words, the invitation to enter this circuit of love by imitating Mary's gesture and really placing ourselves in the sequela of Christ. Augustine writes: "Whatever soul of you wishes to be truly faithful, anoint like Mary the feet of the Lord with precious ointment.... Anoint the feet of Jesus: follow by a good life the Lord's footsteps. Wipe them with your hair: what you have of superfluity, give to the poor, and you have wiped the feet of the Lord" (In Ioh. evang., 50, 6).

[Pope Benedict, homily 29 March 2010]

1. "Paenitemini et date eleemosynam" (cf. Mk 1:15 and Lk 12:33).

Today we do not listen willingly to the word "alms". We feel something humiliating in it. This word seems to suppose a social system in which there reigns injustice, the unequal distribution of goods, a system which should be changed with adequate reforms. And if these reforms were not carried out, the need of radical changes, especially in the sphere of relations among men, would loom up on the horizon of social life. We find the same conviction in the texts of the Prophets of the Old Testament, on which the liturgy often draws during Lent. The Prophets consider this problem at the religious level: there is no true conversion to God, there can be no real "religion" without putting right offences and injustices in relations among men, in social life. Yet in this context the Prophets exhort to almsdeeds.

They do not even use the word "alms", which, moreover, in Hebrew is "sedaqah", that is, precisely "justice". They ask for help for those who are victims of injustice and for the needy: not so much by virtue of mercy as rather by virtue of the duty of active charity.

"Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, / to undo the thongs of the yoke, / to let the oppressed go free, / and to break every yoke? / Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, / and bring the homeless poor into your house; / when you see the naked, to cover him, / and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?" (Is 58:6-7).

The Greek word "eleemosyne" is found in the late books of the Bible and the practice of almsdeeds is a verification of an authentic religious spirit. Jesus makes almsdeeds a condition of access to his kingdom (cf. Lk 12:32-33) and of real perfection (Mk 10:21 and paral.). On the other hand, when Judas—in front of the woman who anointed the feet of Jesus—uttered the remark: `'Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?" (Jn 12:5), Christ defended the woman, answering: "The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me" (Jn 12:8). Both sentences offer food for deep thought.

2. What does the word "alms" mean?

The Greek word "eleemosyne" comes from "éleos", which means compassion and mercy. Originally it indicated the attitude of the merciful man and, later, all works of charity for the needy. This word, transformed, has remained in nearly all European languages.

In French: "aumône"; Spanish: limosna"; Portuguese: "esmola"; German: "Almosen"; English: "Alms".

Even the Polish expression "jalmuzna" is the transformation of the Greek word.

We must differentiate here the objective meaning of this word from the meaning we give it in our social conscience. As can be seen from what we have already said before, we often attribute, in our social conscience, a negative meaning to the word "alms". Various circumstances have contributed to this and continue to contribute to it today. On the contrary, "alms" in itself, as help for those who need it, as "letting others share in one's own goods absolutely does not give rise to such negative associations. We may not agree with the person who gives alms, because of the way in which he does it. We may also not be in agreement with the person who stretches out his hand asking for alms, in that he does not try to earn his own living. We may disapprove of the society, the social system, in which almsdeeds are necessary. However, the fact itself of giving help to those who need it, the fact of sharing one's own goods with others, must inspire respect.

We see how, in understanding verbal expressions, it is necessary to free oneself from the influence of various incidental circumstances: circumstances that are often improper, which affect their ordinary meaning. These circumstances, moreover, are sometimes positive in themselves (for example, in our case the aspiration to a just society, in which there would be no need of alms. because a just distribution of property would reign there.

When the Lord Jesus speaks of alms, when he asks for almsdeeds to be practised, he always does so in the sense of bringing help to those who need it, sharing one's own goods with the needy, that is, in the simple and essential sense, which does not permit us to doubt the value of the act denominated with the term "alms", but on the contrary, urges us to approve it: as a good act, as an expression of love for one's neighbour and as a salvific act.

Moreover, at a moment of particular importance, Christ utters these significant words: "The poor you always have with you" (Jn 12: 8). He does not mean by these words that changes of social and economic structures are not important and that we should not try different ways to eliminate injustice, humiliation, want and hunger. He means merely that man will have needs which cannot be satisfied unless with help for the needy and by sharing one's own goods with others... Of what help are we speaking? What sharing? Is it only a question of "alms", understood in the form of money, of material aid?

3. Certainly Christ does not remove alms from our field of vision. He thinks also of pecuniary, material alms, but in his own way. More eloquent than any other, in this connection, is the example of the poor widow, who put a few small coins into the treasury of the temple: from the material point of view, an offering that could hardly be compared with the offerings given by others. Yet Christ said: "This poor widow has put in... all the living that she had" (Lk 21:3-4). So it is, above all, the interior value of the gift that counts: the readiness to share everything, the readiness to give oneself.

Let us here recall St Paul: "If I give away all I have... but have not love, I gain nothing" (1 Cor 13:3). St Augustine, too, writes well in this connection: "if you stretch out your hand to give, but have not mercy in your heart, you have not done anything; but if you have mercy in your heart, even when you have nothing to give with your hand, God accepts your alms" (Enarrat. in Ps. CXXV, 5).

We are here touching the heart of the problem. In Holy Scripture and according to the evangelical categories, "alms" means in the first place an interior gift. It means the attitude of opening "to the other". Precisely this attitude is an indispensable factor of "metanoia", that is, conversion, just as prayer and fasting are also indispensable. St Augustine, in fact, expresses himself well: "how quickly the prayers of those who do good are granted! And this is man's justice in the present life: fasting, alms, prayer" (Enarrat. in Ps. XLII, 8): prayer, as an opening to God; fasting, as an expression of self-mastery also in depriving oneself of something, in saying "no" to oneself; and finally alms, as opening "towards others". The Gospel draws this picture clearly when it speaks to us of repentance, of "metanoia". Only with a total attitude—in his relationship with God, with himself and with his neighbour—does man reach conversion and remain in the state of conversion.

"Alms" understood in this way has a meaning which is in a certain sense decisive for this conversion. To convince ourselves of this, it is enough to recall the image of the Last Judgment that Christ gave us:

"For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. Then the righteous will answer him, `Lord, when did we see thee hungry and feed thee, or thirsty and give thee drink? And when did we see thee a stranger and welcome thee, or naked and clothe thee? And when did we see thee sick or in prison and visit thee?' And the King will answer them: `Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me" (Mt 25:35-40).

And the Fathers of the Church will then say with St Peter Chrysologus: "The poor man's hand is the treasury of Christ, since Christ receives everything that the poor man receives" (Sermo VIII, 4), and with St Gregory of Nazianzus: "The Lord of all things wants mercy, not sacrifice; and we give it through the poor" (De patuperum amore, XI).

Therefore, this opening to others, which is expressed by "help", by "sharing" food, a glass of water, a good word, consolation, a visit, precious time, etc., this interior gift offered to the other man, arrives directly at Christ, directly at God. It decides the meeting with him. It is conversion.

We can find many texts in the Gospel that confirm this, and also in the whole of Scripture. "Alms" understood according to the Gospel, according to the teaching of Christ, has a definitive, decisive meaning in our conversion to God. If alms be lacking, our life does not yet converge fully towards God.

4. In the cycle of Lenten reflections, it will be necessary to come back to this subject. Today, before concluding, let us dwell for another moment on the real meaning of "alms". It is very easy, in fact, to falsify the idea, as we noted at the beginning. Jesus also gave a warning about the superficial, "exterior" attitude of almsdeeds (cf. Mt 6:4; Lk 11:41). This problem is still a living one. If we realize the essential significance that "alms" has for our conversion to God for the whole of Christian life, we must avoid, at all costs, all that falsifies the meaning of alms, mercy, works of charity, all that may distort their image in ourselves. In this field, it is very important to cultivate interior sensitivity as regards the real needs of our neighbour, in order to know in what we must help him, how to act in order not to wound him, and how to behave in order that what we give, what we bring to his life, may be a real gift, a gift not dimmed by the ordinary negative meaning of the word "alms".

.We see, therefore, what a field of work—wide and at the same time deep—opens before us, if we want to put into practice the call "Paenitemini et date eleemosynam" (cf. Mk 1:15 and Lk 12:33). It is a field of work not only for Lent, but for every day. For the whole of life.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 28 March 1979]

Pope Francis, this morning in his homily at Casa Santa Marta, said that one must "live life as a gift, not as a treasure to be kept". Jesus himself taught us this first, when he said that "no one has a greater love than this: to give one's life". The exact opposite, the pontiff stressed, of what Judas did, "who had precisely the opposite attitude", and in fact "never understood what a gift was".

"Let us think of that moment of the Magdalene," Pope Francis explained, "when she washes Jesus' feet with spikenard, so expensive: it is a religious moment, a moment of gratitude, a moment of love. And he detaches himself and makes the bitter criticism: 'But this could be used for the poor!' This is the first reference I found, in the Gospel, of poverty as ideology. The ideologue does not know what love is, because he does not know how to give himself".Judas' mistake was to be impermeable and distant from Christ's love: a loneliness that led him to betrayal. He who loves, on the other hand, 'gives his life as a gift, gives his life out of love, he is never alone: he is always in community, he is in the family'. Besides, the Pontiff warned, he who "isolates his conscience in selfishness" eventually "loses it".

[Pope Francis, homily s. Marta 14/05/2013: https://www.tempi.it/papa-francesco-vivete-la-vita-come-dono-satana-e-un-cattivo-pagatore-sempre-ci-truffa-sempre/]

(Mt  21:1-11; Mk 11:1-10; Lk 19:28-40; Jn 12:12-16)

In the Gospels the Lord does not allow himself to be identified with the ‘eagle’ of Jn, although it is He who comes from above - and ‘sees’ beyond the immediate.

He is not a winged spiritual being [like the symbol of Mt] but fully incarnate, despite being the authentic Angel, that is, the Sent of the Father par excellence.

Jesus is not associated with the ‘lion’ [Mk], king of the forest and of beasts, although He is the only successful and majestically royal man - the true and totally ‘present’ Person according to God.

Much less do we imagine him as an ‘ox’ [Lk], icon of the ancient traditionally sacrificial devotion.

On an evangelical basis, it is not even possible to imagine the figure and proposal of the Master with the typical “bestiary” of homage and respect with which sovereigns and dignitaries, all the powerful and the elect even of the official religious caste, were idealised in the ancient East.

The Gospels do not recognise Jesus as a majestic ‘raptor’: they equate the stability, quality and action of his Spirit in the icon of the «dove».

Then with a figure that really makes the chickens laugh: the 'hen', who regrets the ruinous choices of her brood (Mt 23:37).

Instead of the power of the ‘lion’ [of Babylon or Judah tribe] here is the meekness of a Lamb that gives all of itself, including skin.

In place of ascetic renunciations, or of animals destined for the offertory necessary to appease the gods, a «man with a heart of flesh and not of a beast» with the ideal of Communion; life torn from the prehuman.

As if to say: it is a web of being (oneself, even small ones) and qualitative relationships, which supplants and sublimates the archaic sacrificial practices [sacrum-facere] with which in ancient times people sought contact and a reciprocal relationship with celestial Life.

Now it is identified with human fullness.

Instead of the fiery arrogance of a steed that presses and becomes the protagonist of great enterprises, fully collaborating to make its leader illustrious, we see a symbol of tireless industriousness, dropped into everyone's common need: the ‘little donkey’!

That of the «donkey» is a thunderous proposal of a humble life, tailor-made for disciples still distracted, bamboozled by dreams of solemnity, prestige, worldly glory, and competitive lusts.

It means: within each one of us there is a «prophecy of unceasing service» that must be "untied".

It is as if there dwells within us an unexpressed spring being that can and wants to be «freed» from the many bonds of expectations of easy success, greatness, and consensus.

Previously indifferent or outraged hopes - for having gived credit to a resigned, humble Messiah.

Such is the level of Faith that it surpasses common religious sense.

That is why the same people who cheer and acclaim acclaim, expecting triumphal celebration, sublime accolades and easy shortcuts - then queue up behind those who reject the Christ.

[Palm Sunday]

Introduction:

Emphasis on Weakness (Mt 26:14–25)

Matthew, Mark and Luke place the institution of the Eucharist within the context of the Jewish Passover meal. A theological reworking to affirm (in the Faith) the meaning of the true Passover of Liberation in Christ.

Compared to the Synoptic Gospels, the Fourth Gospel is more faithful to the meaning of the Broken Bread: a source of Life for all.

John ‘anticipates’ the Lord’s death at the moment when the priests were slaughtering the lambs destined for the Passover meal, on the Temple esplanade.

Thus the sacrifice of the Cross – contemporary with this latter event – is rightly placed by John in the hours preceding the ‘Passover’ meal of the Synoptic Gospels.

In fact, the Lord’s Supper did not originate from the popular celebration of the Exodus of the First Testament in April of the year 30 (Jesus was 37 years old).

No Eucharist has ever involved the typical ingredients of the Jewish Passover meal, such as spices or sauces, sweet and bitter herbs, different cups of wine and so on.

The original meaning of the Master’s ritual gesture with his disciples – which forms the backdrop to today’s Gospel passage – is the joyful one of the Zebah-Todah (Lev 7:11ff: the only votive offering that could be celebrated outside the Temple in Jerusalem, at home, with friends and family).

Hence the dual term (communion) still used to designate the effective sign that Christ left us: Communion (Zebah) and Eucharist (Thanksgiving: Todah).

Todah was a sacrifice of great praise, one of the various specific types of the Communion sacrifice. We find several traces of this in the First Eucharistic Prayer.

The ceremonial act of Thanksgiving was understood in a very profound sense, for it celebrated Life regained, following a serious illness or a narrow escape from death.

A significant portion of the Psalms – perhaps more than a third – express this same ultimate joy in various places: the averted threat to life, and the experience of finding oneself saved together with one’s loved ones, through divine grace.

The meaning of this daily praise was, in fact, initially celebrated by the Catholic Church as well (for almost the entire first millennium, just like the Orthodox Church) with leavened bread (Lev 7:13), to indicate its domestic and real value.

It echoes the tones of that ancient cult of thanksgiving in the hearth – unfortunately, difficult to convey in the specific formulas (perceptible only to a particularly trained ear, and in the original Hebrew text).

The joyful and familiar atmosphere in which the rite of Communion and Thanksgiving was celebrated seems here marred by the drama of unfaithfulness. It is a powerful call to vigilance for all of us.

Jesus gives himself up not because the Father’s plan demanded blood… nor that at least one should pay dearly for all.

The traits of the non-pagan God have nothing to do with a fixation on recompense.

The Father needs no repayment of any kind.

He is no energy vampire; he does not demand that we live for him; quite the contrary.

And we see this in the Son, whom even Judas may dispose of (but so that he might reflect on his own condition – and so too Peter).

The Face of Christ is that of the betrayed man.

But he lets it happen, because friends belong to one another – and he knows: the inviolability of a loved one may not endure, even through greed. Even at the expense of the One who first welcomed us.

If the sense of mutual belonging falls away, then the face of the authentic man becomes that of the man who has been sold out...

All this takes place with a sense of peaceful loss – not as the result of a preordained plan, but so that the disciples might reflect on their own situation, to recognise it and come to terms with it.

It is the way through which we are taught to be aware of our radical lack; to be conscious of the distance from the ideal – of the need for a path of love and authenticity, far greater than any compensation.

The condition of the apostles (as seen in the Gospel passage) is still empty and inattentive, or even beastly and pre-human – prone even to trading in God, and in unspoilt people.

It is as though (to rouse us) through the doubt concerning Judas and the entire group around him, the Lord were still silently saying – to us specifically, but without moralising: ‘Where are you?’

    Because of the persecutions, some members of the community in Matthew had allowed themselves to be intimidated and had abandoned their brothers and sisters in faith. What attitude should we adopt towards them?

The scandalous story of the failure of the first disciples opens up ceaseless glimmers of hope for the churches of all ages: the logic of the Kingdom remains unshaken by anything.

Doors wide open even for those who deny and flee the Master.

The religious journey without the leap of Faith instils in sensitive people a progressive and marked sense of unworthiness: it imposes a nerve-wracking wait for perfections that press upon us.

What counts is splendid ability and aptitude: what man does for God...

But divine love is not conditional. Therefore, on the genuine and most reliable path, what counts above all is the surprise: what the Lord does for us.

He is the One Who Comes and the One Who acts, disposes and guides – He who weaves the fabric anew and, through unexpected twists or leaps, rips us free from the obsession with inadequacy.

Without such Friendship (free and guided) that is more than wise, one yields and may end up selling Christ in exchange for will-o’-the-wisps, fleeting flashes, the convictions of others, futile trinkets; self-interest and cheap happiness.

Jesus continues to dip the morsel in his Blood and to offer it to us. Little by little, we shall learn to stand up for his values, so that he may live again through us as Bread broken and distributed.

Gradually, we shall even manage not to fall silent and not to flee in the face of the gift of life... transforming ourselves into Food.

The only person who, on the other hand, ruins and destroys himself (Mt 27:5) is the one thoroughly compromised by false spiritual guides.

To internalise and live out the message:

When asked what defines you, do you commit to laying bare the convictions of others and external or imitated goals? Or do you proclaim the freedom to be and become yourself in Christ?

Passion of Love according to Matthew

(Mt 26:14–27:66)

    Jesus introduces into the world a total novelty, a principle of life: unconditional love.

The events narrated in the Passion accounts are fundamentally the same, but each author emphasises the catechetical themes deemed urgent for his community.

The Passion according to Matthew draws on Mark’s account, creating a subtle parallel between the story of Christ and the drama of the righteous one in Psalm 22 (vv. 2, 8–9, 16, 17, 19, 25).

Matthew introduces, in his own original way, only the episodes of Judas’s financial agreement with the chief priests, the death of the traitor himself, and the guarding of the tomb.

A constant theme of the narrative is the reference to the fulfilment of the Scriptures, because the author is writing for communities in Galilee and Syria whose members come from a Jewish background.

In that culture, a great and powerful victorious Messiah was expected: a condemned man hanging on a cross was abhorred as one cursed even by God, as well as a source of contamination (Deut 21:22–23).

The challenge at the foot of the Cross by officials of the Sanhedrin and religious authorities – willing to believe only those who assert themselves – must be understood within this framework of internal catechesis.

‘Save yourself’ is the mantra we too repeat to ourselves when we think of using our qualities to advance and dominate over everyone else. Possibly relying on God, if He approves.

To these doubts, Matthew responds by highlighting a long-dormant strand of ancient Middle Eastern culture and Scripture, which portrayed a humiliated Messiah – our fellow traveller in solidarity through suffering caused by oppression and abandonment.

God’s intervention is not revealed in immediate victory, but in transforming defeat into a source of life, and even death into birth.

Humiliation and silencing become an opportunity for growth towards authentic, indestructible fulfilment and blossoming.

The Gospel passage begins precisely with the venal agreement between Judas and the priests. Betrayal and denial of Christ challenge us regarding our own ambitious and conflicting plans.

Introducing the Last Supper, Matthew immediately turns to address his community – placing the question ‘Is it I?’ on the lips of all those present at the Lord’s Supper.

The evangelist has a strong pastoral concern to make each person recognise their own ‘anti-disciple’ side, dispelling any illusions of immunity. It is a question that each of us would do well to carry within ourselves.

The true apostle is not arrogant or self-assured. He knows his own frailties; he knows he can be mistaken.

‘This is me’ is, in fact, the meaning of the paradoxical sign, the personality and proposal that the Lord leaves us.

In the language of the time, the expressions ‘my body’ and ‘my blood’ indicated the totality of life, teaching and the individual’s word. In short, they were synonymous with ‘myself’.

The juxtaposition that serves as a comparison and contrast between the first episodes is clear and instructive.

In breaking bread (the whole of life) ‘for the multitudes’, Matthew introduces a theme dear to his theology: the universalism of salvation. The chosen people are not the exclusive custodians of redemption.

But the (rather partial) interpretation—common to the Passion narratives of the Synoptics—emerges that Christ’s sacrifice is ‘for sins’ (the term, used in the singular by John, has a different value: theological and existential, comprehensive and far less moral).

The idea of a propitiatory, expiatory and vicarious death for the redemption of humanity was, in fact, typical of the earliest communal interpretations of his story.

This is the reason that led the Synoptics to introduce the events of the Lord’s Passion of love with the so-called institution of the Eucharist.

Moreover, in his account, Matthew multiplies quotations drawn from the First Testament to show Jesus’ earthly defeat as the very expression and culmination of the ancient Scriptures – thereby emphasising their conformity.

Gethsemane reveals the full humanity of Jesus, who goes towards his destruction with a dramatic sense of his destiny, and without even the joy of some understanding.

Beside him were the usual three close companions [namely, the leaders of the early ecclesial communities]: the most distant and stubborn, whom he wished to invite to keep an eye on him, so that they might begin to understand at least something.

First and foremost, the Master recommends prayer to them—that is, attentive listening—so that they might finally assimilate the Father’s will and avoid the temptation to separate themselves from it.

For they were the first to want to excel and return to the ideology of power (and precedence) that still occupied their minds—each dreaming of primacy, and who knows what else.

The evangelist suggests that the true struggle is not with secular powers, which [obviously] defend themselves by any means. To be in agreement with God’s plan for humanity – that is the point.

And we must take this into account in our mission: we must not be caught off guard. To perpetuate itself, the ancient world is capable of anything.

The episode of the arrest, in fact, highlights Christ’s demeanour. He freely proceeds to his death and teaches that the things of God are not defined by violence and the sword.

High priests, official theologians and elders—that is, the influential members of the Jewish aristocracy—feared the new order of things advocated by Jesus.

His dream of a new Temple, a living one alone, would have undermined their positions. The powerful Messiah, on the other hand, would have confirmed their teachings and justified their standard of living.

Jesus, however, asserts his position as the Son of Man. In short, before Caiaphas he reaffirms his distinct stance.

Divine status coincides with the highest expression of common humanity.

A highly dangerous proposition for any institutional mediation structure. After all, every quest for authentic love is free and interpersonal: it loses its lustre with any third party intruding.

The leaders realise this. In the Gospels, the Son of Man – the true and full realisation of the divine plan for humanity – is not hindered by those who frequent places of ill repute, but by the regulars of the sacred precincts.

The growth and humanisation of the people is not opposed by sinners, but precisely by those who are supposed to have the ministry of making the Face of God known to all.

The condemnation for blasphemy follows. It seems obvious that whoever relies on the criteria of such ‘spiritual authorities’ becomes an enemy of life, and thus falls into despair and self-destruction.

However, within the theological framework of Matthew, it is more plausible that the terrible words spoken about Judas serve to emphasise his heavy destiny (according to the Scriptures) to hand over the Redeemer – rather than reading them as a clear-cut judgement of condemnation and damnation.

Certainly, they are another firm warning addressed to the members of the community, so that they may not be deceived by flattery or ways of life that ultimately become utterly unforgivable in themselves.

All creation seems to participate in Christ’s death. ‘The earth shook’: Matthew realises that a new world is being born.

At that time, it was believed that the transition from the age of iniquity to the messianic era would be marked by cosmic events.

It is the irruption of the day of God, which breaks free from the local confines of religion. Now everyone has direct access, thanks to the relationship of Faith.

And every death is no longer a threat to life, but rather strengthens it – even if it takes place amidst external insults.

Instead, Judas’s end is the fate of the disciple who follows the Master for a time, then gives up because he realises that it is not with Him that dreams of glory can be realised.

Judas is the apostle who entrusts his loneliness and torment to the wrong guides – mere profiteers and opportunists. Matthew’s warning to church members: whoever follows his example, alas, has no escape.

All this whilst the deeply religious world continues to proceed with its usual logic, placing its guards to watch over life – which seeks to emerge from the den to which it has been consigned.

The guards watching over the tomb aptly symbolise the world of falsehood’s attempt to silence the righteous, locking them away in a tomb.

It is another reminder from the evangelist: often the powers of evil give the impression that they can secure definitive triumph.

The weak then risk becoming disheartened, regarding (too hastily) hopes for justice as utopian, mere pious dreams.

Meanwhile, Jesus is, in his own way, overcoming evil.

He does not do so through sudden miracles or decisive interventions, but by stripping the forces of death of their power to harm – indeed, by transforming them into an opportunity that prepares and sets in motion further developments.

The result will be such luminous growth and progress that the soldiers stationed to defend and uphold iniquity must flee in terror from a blinding light they cannot bear.

God rolls away every stone that hinders the return to life, and sits upon it (28:2).

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

This evening, in stillness and moved in heart, we have journeyed in prayer along the Way of the Cross. We have gone up Calvary with Jesus and we have meditated on his suffering, rediscovering how deep his love was and is for us. But let us not limit ourselves to a compassion dictated be weak sentiment; rather, we wish to participate in the sufferings of Jesus, we wish to accompany our Master, to share his Passion in our lives, in the life of the Church, for the life of the world, since we know that it is precisely in the Lord’s Cross, in love without limits, that he gives everything of himself, is the source of grace, of liberation, of peace, of salvation.

The texts, the meditations and the prayers of the Way of the Cross have helped us to consider the mystery of the Passion in order to appreciate the great lesson of love which God gave on the Cross, that there might be born in us a renewed desire to change our hearts, living each day that love which is the only force able to change the world.

This evening we have gazed upon Jesus and his countenance marked by pain, derided, outraged and disfigured by the sin of humanity; tomorrow night we will look upon the same countenance full of joy, radiant and luminous. From the moment Jesus goes into the tomb, the tomb and death are no longer a place without hope where history stops in the most complete failure, where man touches the extreme limit of his powerlessness. Good Friday is the greatest day of hope, come to fruition upon the Cross, as Jesus dies, as he draws his last breath, crying out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Lk 23:46). Entrusting his “given” existence into the Father’s hands, he knows that his death is becoming the source of life, just as the seed in the earth must be destroyed that a new plant may be born: “If a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (Jn 12:24). Jesus is the grain of wheat that falls to the earth, is split open, is destroyed and dies, and for this very reason is able to bear fruit. From the day on which Christ was raised upon it, the Cross, which had seemed to be a sign of desolation, of abandonment, and of failure, has become a new beginning: from the profundity of death is raised the promise of eternal life. The victorious splendour of the dawning day of Easter already shines upon the Cross.

In the silence of this night, in the silence which envelopes Holy Saturday, touched by the limitless love of God, we live in the hope of the dawn of the third day, the dawn of the victory of God’s love, the luminous daybreak which allows the eyes of our heart to see afresh our life, its difficulties, its suffering. Our failures, our disappointments, our bitterness, which seem to signal that all is lost, are instead illumined by hope. The act of love upon the Cross is confirmed by the Father and the dazzling light of the resurrection enfolds and transforms everything: friendship can be born from betrayal, pardon from denial, love from hate.

Grant us, Lord, to carry our cross with love, and to carry our daily crosses in the certainty that they have been enlightened by the dazzling light of Easter. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, Way of the Cross at the Colosseum 2 April 2010]

1. "Pueri Hebraeorum, portantes ramos olivarum.... The Jewish children went to meet the Lord waving olive branches".

This is the antiphon that we sing in the solemn procession as we carry our branches of olive and palm on this Sunday, called Palm or Passion Sunday. We have relived what took place on that day:  in the midst of the crowd rejoicing around Jesus who entered Jerusalem riding a donkey there were crowds of children. Some Pharisees would have wanted Jesus to have them keep quiet, but he answered that if they would have been silent, even the stones would have cried out (cf. Lk 19,39-40).

Even today, thanks be to God, there is a multitude of young people here in St Peter's Square. The "children of Jerusalem" have become young men and women of every nation, language and culture. Welcome, dear friends! I warmly greet each one of you! Today's gathering directs us toward the coming World Youth Day, that will take place in Toronto, Canada, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world. The World Youth Day Cross is already there. Last year on Palm Sunday, Italian young people entrusted it to their Canadian peers.

2. The Cross is the focus of the liturgy today. Dear young people, with your attentive and enthusiastic participation in this solemn celebration, you show that you are not ashamed of the Cross. You do not fear the Cross of Christ. Indeed, you love and venerate it because it is the sign of the Redeemer who died and rose again for us. Those who believe in Jesus, crucified and risen, carry the Cross in triumph as an indisputable proof that God is love. With the total gift of himself on the Cross, our Saviour decisively conquered sin and death. Therefore we joyfully proclaim:  "Glory and praise to you, O Christ who has redeemed the world with your Cross".

3. "Christ became obedient for us even to death, death on the Cross. Therefore God raised him on high and gave him a name above every other name" (Gospel acclamation).
We have used these words of the Apostle Paul, just heard in the Second Reading, as our acclamation before we begin the reading of the Passion. They express our faith:  the faith of the Church.

However, faith in Christ can never be taken for granted. The reading of his Passion sets us before Christ, living in his Church. The Easter Mystery that we will relive during the days of Holy Week is always present. Today we are contemporaries of the Lord and, like the multitude in Jerusalem, like the disciples and the women, we are called to decide if we are to be with him, or flee, or just be spectators at his death.

Every year in Holy Week the curtain rises once again on the great scene in which the definitive drama is decided, not only for one generation, but for all humanity and for each one.

4. The Passion narrative points out the fidelity of Christ, contrasted with human infidelity. In the hour of his trial, while the disciples and even Peter abandon Jesus (cf. Mt 26,56), He remains faithful, willing to pour out his blood to bring to fulfilment the mission the Father has entrusted to him. Beside him is Mary, silent and suffering.

Dear young people! Learn from Jesus and from his and our Mother. The real strength of a man lies in the fidelity of his witness to the truth and in his resisting flattery, threats, misunderstandings, blackmail, even harsh and relentless persecution. This is the path on which our Redeemer calls us to follow him.

Only if you are ready to do this, will you become what Jesus expects of you, that is, "the salt of the earth" and "the light of the world" (Mt 5,13-14). As you know, this is the theme for the coming World Youth Day. The image of salt "reminds us that, through Baptism, our whole being has been profoundly changed, because it has been "seasoned' with the new life which comes from Christ (cf. Rom 6,4)" (Message for the 17th World Youth Day, n. 2).

Dear young people, do not lose your flavour as Christians, the flavour of the Gospel! Keep it alive by meditating constantly on the Easter Mystery:  may the Cross be your school of wisdom. Boast of nothing else save this sublime throne of truth and love.

5. The liturgy invites us to climb towards Jerusalem with Jesus, hailed by the young Jews. In a little while he "will have to suffer and on the third day rise from the dead" (Lk 24,46). St Paul has reminded us that Jesus "emptied himself, taking the form of a servant" (Phil 2,7) to obtain for us the grace of divine sonship. From him springs the true spring of peace and joy for each one of us! Here is the secret of the Easter joy that is born from the hardship of the Passion.

I hope that each one of you will share in this joy, dear young friends. The One you have chosen as Teacher is not a merchant of deceptions, not a powerful one of this world, not a ready and skilled debater. You know who it is you have chosen to follow: the Crucified is risen! The Crucified is risen! Christ died for you, Christ rose for you.

The Church assures you that you will not be disillusioned. Indeed, no one else other than he can give you that love, peace, and eternal life for which your heart so deeply yearns. Blessed are you young people if you will be faithful disciples of Christ! Blessed are you who are ready to witness on every occasion that this man is truly the Son of God (cf. Mt 27,39).

May Mary, Mother of the incarnate Word guide and go with you, ready to intercede for everyone who comes into the world.

[Pope John Paul II, Palm Sunday homily 24 March 2002]

Joyful acclamations at Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, followed by his humiliation. Festive cries followed by brutal torture. This twofold mystery accompanies our entrance into Holy Week each year, as reflected in the two characteristic moments of today’s celebration: the initial procession with palm branches and the solemn reading of the Passion.

Let us enter into this movement, guided by the Holy Spirit, and thus obtain the grace we sought in our opening prayer: to follow in faith our Saviour’s example of humility, to heed his lesson of patient suffering, and thus to merit a share in his victory over the spirit of evil.

Jesus shows us how to face moments of difficulty and the most insidious of temptations by preserving in our hearts a peace that is neither detachment nor superhuman impassivity, but confident abandonment to the Father and to his saving will, which bestows life and mercy. He shows us this kind of abandonment by spurning, at every point in his earthly ministry, the temptation to do things his way and not in complete obedience to the Father. From the experience of his forty days in the desert to the culmination of his Passion, Jesus rejects this temptation by his obedient trust in the Father.

Today, too, by his entrance into Jerusalem, he shows us the way. For in that event, the evil one, the prince of this world, had a card up his sleeve: the card of triumphalism. Yet the Lord responded by holding fast to his own way, the way of humility.

Triumphalism tries to make it to the goal by shortcuts and false compromises. It wants to jump onto the carriage of the winner. It lives off gestures and words that are not forged in the crucible of the cross; it grows by looking askance at others and constantly judging them inferior, wanting, failures... One subtle form of triumphalism is spiritual worldliness, which represents the greatest danger, the most treacherous temptation threatening the Church (De Lubac). Jesus destroyed triumphalism by his Passion.

The Lord truly rejoiced with the people, with those young people who shouted out his name and acclaimed him as King and Messiah. His heart was gladdened to see the enthusiasm and excitement of the poor of Israel. So much so, that, to those Pharisees who asked him to rebuke his disciples for their scandalous acclamations, he replied: “If these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (Lk 19:40). Humility does not mean denying reality: Jesus really is the Messiah, the King.

Yet at the same time the heart of Jesus was moving on another track, on the sacred path known to him and the Father alone: the path that leads from “the form of God” to “the form of a servant”, the path of self-abasement born of obedience “unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:6-8). He knows that true triumph involves making room for God and that the only way to do that is by stripping oneself, by self-emptying. To remain silent, to pray, to accept humiliation. There is no negotiating with the cross: one either embraces it or rejects it. By his self-abasement, Jesus wanted to open up to us the path of faith and to precede us on that path.

The first to follow him on that path was his mother, Mary, the first disciple. The Blessed Virgin and the saints had to suffer in walking the path of faith and obedience to God’s will. Responding with faith to the harsh and painful events of life entails “a particular heaviness of heart (cf. Redemptoris Mater, 17). The night of faith. Yet only from that night do we see the dawn of the resurrection break forth. At the foot of the cross, Mary thought once more of the words that the angel had spoken about her Son: “He will be great… The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (Lk 1:32-33). On Golgotha, Mary faced the complete denial of that promise: her Son was dying on a cross like a criminal. In this way, triumphalism, destroyed by the abasement of Jesus, was likewise destroyed in the heart of his Mother. Both kept silent.

In the footsteps of Mary, countless holy men and women have followed Jesus on the path of humility and obedience. Today, World Youth Day, I would like to mention all those young saints, especially the saints “next door” to us, known only to God; sometimes he likes to surprise us with them. Dear young people, do not be ashamed to show your enthusiasm for Jesus, to shout out that he is alive and that he is your life. Yet at the same time, do not be afraid to follow him on the way of the cross. When you hear that he is asking you to renounce yourselves, to let yourselves be stripped of every security, and to entrust yourselves completely to our Father in heaven, then rejoice and exult! You are on the path of the kingdom of God.

Festive acclamations and brutal torture; the silence of Jesus throughout his Passion is profoundly impressive. He also overcomes the temptation to answer back, to act like a “superstar”. In moments of darkness and great tribulation, we need to keep silent, to find the courage not to speak, as long as our silence is meek and not full of anger. The meekness of silence will make us appear even weaker, more humble. Then the devil will take courage and come out into the open. We need to resist him in silence, “holding our position”, but with the same attitude as Jesus. He knows that the battle is between God and the prince of this world, and that what is important is not putting our hand to the sword but remaining firm in faith. It is God’s hour. At the hour that God comes forth to fight, we have to let him take over. Our place of safety will be beneath the mantle of the holy Mother of God. As we wait for the Lord to come and calm the storm (cf. Mt 4:37-41), by our silent witness in prayer we give ourselves and others “an accounting for the hope that is within [us]” (1 Pet 3:15). This will help us to live in the sacred tension between the memory of the promises made, the suffering present in the cross, and the hope of the resurrection.

[Pope Francis, Palm Sunday homily, XXXIV WYD 14 April 2019]

(Jn 11:45-56)

Christ is all that the Jewish feasts had promised and proclaimed.

They deciphered authoritatively, but unconsciously [vv.47-52 take pleasure in double entendre words].

In fact, the high priest spoke in the name of God: he interpreted the situation in a divinely inspired way.

In Christ the people was setting out to fulfill the promise made to Abraham: the era of the dispersion of women and men was ending.

The Cross would have fulfilled the vocation of the Temple: recomposition of the people and unity of the human being from the arid and distant land, in sharing and gratuitousness.

But what could were being the starting point (energetic) also for Jesus, not to withdraw into the limits of his own environment down to the details, and activate a path of rebirth?

The community of Bethany [«house of the poor»] is an image of the first realities of Faith, destitute and composed only of brothers and sisters.

Person-friendly. Where people “looked” at each other, and those bonds that prevented them from going beyond the already known could be dissolved.

Nest of healthy relationships, which was also able to make sense of wounds.

«House of the poor» is the only place where Jesus was at ease, that is, the only reality in which we can still recognize Him alive and present ‘in the midst’ - available, equidistant. Source of life for the modest and needy.

In the passage from the Gospel, the comparison with the vulgar cunning of the authorities and the out-of-scale dimension of the places and festivals is strident.

As if there no sap flowed between the Holiness of God and the real life of the discharged people.

Although the Master did good - as in all regimes, there was no shortage of delators (v.46).

On the other hand, a large part of the inhabitants of Jerusalem found their material sustenance in the induced of the Temple activities.

Top ones in the class could never have been persuaded to follow a stranger who intended to supplant the official institution and privileged positions, with an unadorned utopia.

The throne of the princes of the fraternal House was conversely without ‘cushions’, and the community co-ordinator a woman: Martha [«lady»]. Leader in reverse, servant.

In such guise, Bethany gave hints of new life, because of its very composition, and intimate spirit.

Hearth free of standards and roles of primacy.

Reality devoid of struggles, defences, positions, vested interests: all tensions to 'fix' things which still mark us downwards, towards sloppiness.

Under Domitian these small alternative realities - caring for the small and distant - had to live like Jesus: clandestine.

They paid for unity, with the cross. But they renewed the life of the empire.

[Saturday 5th wk. in Lent, March 28, 2026]