Homily, Palm Sunday 2022

Today is one of those unique days in the Church calendar when we hear two Gospel passages very different in tone, in sentiment, and certainly in content. We begin the liturgy with a presentation of an enthusiastic and exuberant crowd as Jesus enters Jerusalem, the capital of David’s kingdom. Along the way he is hailed as Son of David; the prophet from Nazareth; the one who comes in the name of the Lord. He gets the red-carpet treatment: cloaks and cut branches from the trees scattered on the dusty road; cries of Hosanna piercing the air; the crowd swelling, their voices crying out in a mixture of scriptural quotations and messianic aspirations.

Then, as the Mass progresses –all of a sudden – the mood changes: Our Gospel announces that the king has been degraded to the level of a common criminal. The victory confetti is replaced by whips, spitting, and choking dust. Jesus the prophet and Davidic Savior is now Jesus the criminal, the blasphemer, the rebel. The donkey that once carried him in triumph has disappeared, and on his own back he now carries the heavy cross. Cries of celebration have turned to calls for death; shouts of joy have given way to the sound of the lash and the parade has become an execution march. 

This is enough to make our spiritual head spin. For in this yearly remembrance of the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we are well-reminded of the nature of our own temptations and sins. We can often find ourselves with Jesus for the easy part of the journey, but then vanish like the wind when the pressure rises, and the threats of death fill the air. We think about the times when we want to skip ahead to the empty tomb without first walking to Golgotha. As Jesus tells us, the human spirit can be very willing, but the flesh very weak. But we should remember there can be no resurrection without the cross; there can be no new life without first dying to oneself. There is no Easter without Good Friday.

Maybe you remember a time when everything in your life was going well, and everything was filled with promise. And then, some of that excitement dissolved into boredom, or worry, or pain and your hopes not fulfilled. The messiness of life is the same. The ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, the hopes and disappointments were part of Jesus’ life, and they are part of ours. So, let’s bring all these things with us as we journey with Jesus this week.  It takes faith to believe that only the Lord can do anything about our problems, worries and sorrows. It takes faith to believe that the story we just heard is not the end of the story. And it takes deep faith to believe that our individual stories aren’t complete either. 

There is still much more to unfold. The day when our problems don’t get the best of us. The day when our skepticism turns into hope, our fears into trust. The day when joy, peace and meaning fill our hearts --- no matter what might be happening all around us. The day when our crosses have no power over us. That’s what awaits us. That’s the promise.

As we begin this Holy Week, let us keep our eyes firmly fixed on Jesus. Let us take note of his patience, his total and unyielding dedication to doing the will of the Father fully and completely. Then let us take up our cross and follow him, so that having shared in his cross, we might share in his resurrection. Have a blessed Holy Week.