The Passion of Christ


At Mass on Palm Sunday and at services again this afternoon, the congregation actively participates in the proclamation of the holy Gospel. Roles are formally assigned to the priest, lectors and the people assembled. The story unfolds before us once more. In memory and imagination the scenes play themselves out, as dialogue both familiar and disturbing, sounds on our lips.

This drama, we must realize, is merely a “re-enactment” of something over and dead. Those who celebrate Mass actually participate in the Last Supper and the Death of Jesus Christ on Good Friday. In the Liturgy of the Eucharist, our living Lord is made truly present under the forms of bread and wine. Events of the past are by God’s power perpetuated as present realities. So complete and profound is our solidarity with Christ as members of His mystical Body, that His sufferings merit our salvation, and our lives are an extension of His in space and time. Thus, St. Paul (and we) are able to say, “In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of His Body, the Church” (Col 1:24).

The drama of Christ’s life is “re-presented” in and through those who are members of His Body, the Church. As His baptized brothers and sisters, we are allowed some degree of freedom to choose our roles in His story. Perhaps we find ourselves bold and brave when the momentum is with us, but craven cowards when the winds shift — like Peter. Maybe we want to “play it safe,” steer clear of controversy, and compromise, even though innocents may suffer — like Pontius Pilate. Possibly we just want to be faceless members of the crowd, respecters of popular opinion who don’t want to be different — like the crowds who cried “Hosannah!” on Sunday and “Crucify Him!” a few days later. Or we might find ourselves hypocrites (like the Pharisees); sensualists (like Herod); just “doing our job” (like the Roman centurion); or confused and overwhelmed (like most of the apostles). There are the extraordinary roles — “sons (and daughters) of perdition” — (like Judas); or paragons of constancy — (like Mary, the holy women and John the beloved).

If we are perceptive enough to realize that Christ is present in “the least of His brothers,” we’ll recognize that Jesus is also present in every moment and event of our lives and that to be a part of the Church is to be players in His story.

When we gather to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice, to participate in the life of Christ in word and sacrament, we are caught up in the definitive Drama. The powers of light and darkness clash in a twisted movement of malice and precious blood, spittle and sour wine.

On Good Friday, the Word made Flesh, pierced by nail and thorn, ravaged by scourge and rods, embraces the Cross — the ultimate symbol of man’s inhumanity to man, and in His sacred humanity, God Himself suffers death. But Jesus Christ’s self-less suffering, mercy and love — even though His lifeless body was laid in a tomb — makes possible our life, our hope and our salvation. Amen.



(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)

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