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).