We are soon going to share in the Passover

From a homily by Saint Gregory Nazianzen, bishop

We are soon going to share in the Passover, and although we still do so only in a symbolic way, the symbolism already has more clarity than it possessed in former times because, under the law, the Passover was, if I may dare to say so, only a symbol of a symbol. Before long, however, when the Word drinks the new wine with us in the kingdom of his Father, we shall be keeping the Passover in a yet more perfect way, and with deeper understanding. He will then reveal to us and make clear what he has so far only partially disclosed. For this wine, so familiar to us now, is eternally new.

It is for us to learn what this drinking is, and for him to teach us. He has to communicate this knowledge to his disciples, because teaching is food, even for the teacher.

So let us take our part in the Passover prescribed by the law, not in a literal way, but according to the teaching of the Gospel; not in an imperfect way, but perfectly; not only for a time, but eternally. Let us regard as our home the heavenly Jerusalem, not the earthly one; the city glorified by angels, not the one laid waste by armies. We are not required to sacrifice young bulls or rams, beasts with horns and hoofs that are more dead than alive and devoid of feeling; but instead, let us join the choirs of angels in offering God upon his heavenly altar a sacrifice of praise. We must now pass through the first veil and approach the second, turning our eyes toward the Holy of Holies. I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honoring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified.

If you are a Simon of Cyrene, take up your cross and follow Christ. If you are crucified beside him like one of the thieves, now, like the good thief, acknowledge your God. For your sake, and because of your sin, Christ himself was regarded as a sinner; for his sake, therefore, you must cease to sin. Worship him who was hung on the cross because of you, even if you are hanging there yourself. Derive some benefit from the very shame; purchase salvation with your death. Enter paradise with Jesus, and discover how far you have fallen. Contemplate the glories there, and leave the other scoffing thief to die outside in his blasphemy.

If you are a Joseph of Arimathea, go to the one who ordered his crucifixion, and ask for Christ’s body. Make your own the expiation for the sins of the whole world. If you are a Nicodemus, like the man who worshipped God by night, bring spices and prepare Christ’s body for burial. If you are one of the Marys, or Salome, or Joanna, weep in the early morning. Be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself.

O God,
who have made all those reborn in Christ
a chosen race and a royal priesthood,
grant us, we pray,
the grace to will and to do what you command,
that the people called to eternal life
may be one in the faith of their hearts
and the homage of their deeds.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.
– Amen.

If you don't know where you're going...

Holy Week starts tomorrow, a sacred journey beginning with Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and continuing through the Easter Triduum. During this mystical time, we are invited to remember the terminal events of Jesus’ life and prayerfully reflect on their meaning.

Today, as a prelude to the week ahead, we see Jesus making an absolute commitment to complete his Father’s work. Speaking to his disciples prior to the Palm Sunday procession, we hear Jesus say,

“Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death,19 and deliver him to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day” (Matt 20:18-19).

Jesus’ resolute tone helps us understand the importance of commitment. In the week ahead, can we identify and prioritize a singular goal and commit, as Jesus did, to see it through to completion? What are the choices ahead of us? Where in our lives is new life budding forth?

Inherent in decision is an opposing force, a paradox. We know we have to commit to create; yet we oftentimes fear the singular choice. New life can only come through a partnership with dedication, but we long to reserve other options.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;…” (Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”)

A Palm Sunday Reflection

This coming week is about focus. We are not very good at it. More than any other generation in history our attention is scattered and fragmented. The novelist Sebastian Faulks commented on this when he spoke at the Brook Green Book Festival. His own sons, he said, sometimes had three screens going at the same time. I puzzled for a moment over what he meant, and realized that he was referring to TV, laptop and mobile phone, all whizzing away simultaneously. This is a sign and symptom of how hard it is for us to look, to ponder, to focus and then to integrate what we see.

To help us to focus and centre ourselves, the Church makes us read the Passion narrative twice in the next few days. The first time this weekend on Palm Sunday, then again on Good Friday. Every year the same thing happens: we are there with Christ. The element of drama draws us in, even although we know well the contours of the story. We are there on the edge of the crowd looking on, peering through the dust, trying to hear his words above the hubbub of the excitable throng.

You cannot hurry the Passion narrative. It slows us down as it unfolds. It makes us look even when we would rather turn away. We want to evade parts of the last day of his life because, to be frank, it is a story of shocking brutality. But then again, this is not only his world, it is our world. We hold life to be dear, but there are parts of the world where life is cheap. Contemplating the wounds of Christ we see our wounded world. The victims of rape, the persecuted Christians, the casualties of war, the needlessly starving children in a world of plenty. Now, admittedly we need optimism to make progress in the world. We would never work to improve things if we did not believe that it was possible to make a difference. We need, though, also to be realistic about human nature. Human beings are capable of great love or great hatred; of generosity or malice. Jesus calls us to love and generosity and mercy, and through his suffering he shows how much these things are needed.

As Holy Week begins, I have the image of a sick body, with poisons and toxins circulating around in its bloodstream. The body is the world. The only way to deal with these elements of sickness is to draw them out of the body. And Jesus will, in the events of Good Friday, draw these poisons to himself. All the hatred, resentment, anger, self-centredness and callousness of the world will descend on him. As he is displayed on the cross, so, too, all the ills that plague the human race will be displayed there. Only this time, by drawing them out and defeating them, God in Christ will heal what only he could heal: the hurt and ailing body of humankind. All that is hidden will be drawn to the surface, and its poison removed.

Good Friday leaves us in no doubt that there is a sad violence at the heart of human nature. God made us free and we are free to choose well and wisely or foolishly and sinfully. Yet God does not leave us there. Through the memory of Christ on the cross he draws us hack. He tells us that what counts is not our miserable sins, but the goodness of Christ, who met and defeated sin on the cross. As is sometimes said, God accepts us as we are, but he loves us too much to leave us as we are. In Christ he gives us new life. The narrative we enter into is not just his story, but our story also. Because our story is part of Christ’s story, our death leads us to life, our sin becomes repentance, and our foolishness is overtaken by the mercy of God.

Fr Terry is Parish Priest at St Mary's in Finchley East, north London.

Celebrate your differences...make a great fruit salad

The Hug

It was one of those mornings.
You know the type.

Things are tense.

Our infant son had been up all night.

My wife's eyes (along with the rest of her) were weary.

My oldest son, the five-year-old, wasn't feeling his best either.

He was slow getting ready for school.
He understandably didn't feel like going.

It was just one of those mornings.
You know the type.

As I drove him to school, he was quiet.

When parents are tense and tired, the children feel it.
They know by word and gesture when their acts and attitudes are less tolerated.

After being fussed at, he was sullen.

It was one of those mornings.
You know the type.

I walked him to his classroom as usual.
He walked in, removed his coat and hung it up.

I usually give my son a hug before I leave him in class.
I knew today he really needed a big hug, and maybe so did I.

He came forward with his arms outstretched. I bowed down,
clasped my arms around him, closed my eyes and hugged him tight.

Normally, I would only hug him for two or three seconds but on this morning,
I held him tight as the seconds ticked by like dashed lines on the highway.

All of a sudden, I felt him get heavier.

Still clinging to my son, I opened my eyes. I understood why he had gotten heavier.
His feet were off the ground. He had curled his legs up and his heels were only inches away from his backside.

He clung.

I clung.

Sometimes in life no words are needed. As he folded his legs up and trusted his father to carry all of his weight,
he didn't get heavier to my spirit.

I actually felt lighter.

It was a ritual repeated countless times through countless years from countless parents to countless children.

The touch and embrace between a parent and a child, make them both feel more secure.

It was one of those mornings.
You know the type.

today'sTHOT============================

Don't be discouraged. It's often the last key in the bunch that opens the lock.

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