It's how you choose to end the story

Palm Sunday

Catholics are notorious for not knowing their bible but they somehow instinctively know their bible stories. It seems like a contradiction to non-Catholics, but it is true. The different stories of Christ gleaned from the pages of the different gospels all flow into a common ocean of Catholic consciousness. We may know the story, but we may not know from exactly which verse, chapter, or book it came from. Perhaps, the most familiar story to the Catholic mind is that of the Passion of the Lord. Each of the four gospels contains a major concluding section devoted to describing the arrest, trial and execution of Jesus in Jerusalem, in which all follow roughly the same structure and chronology, differing only in minor details.  It is thought, in fact, that the gospels all started simply as accounts of the Passion and Death of Jesus written down for the benefit of preachers and adult converts to Christianity, and that these in time were expanded by adding introductory sections to describe the teaching and deeds of Jesus in His public life leading up to His death. The Passion reading for Palm Sunday in this lectionary cycle is the Passion of Saint Luke.

What is distinctively Lucan about this version of the passion? Some accuse Saint Luke of coming closest of the Four to a dispassionate Passion. This is not a critique, for he sings in an angelic way, as if rising above all human emotions. He is describing a cosmic or heavenly drama, conveying events beyond the events, as if from the other side of human flesh. It is by this means that he writes into our Scripture, so eloquently, the Mercy divine. His is a Passion of Mercy. And we see this right at the very beginning in the scene of the Last Supper, when He offers to pray for Simon Peter when He predicts the latter’s failure, and later in the scene of Peter’s betrayal, we see our Lord looking lovingly and mercifully upon Peter after his denial. We are carried notwithstanding our faults, our most grievous faults, and our all-too-human failures. In spite of His personal suffering, He still had time to stop and offer consolation to the women who were weeping for Him. And finally from the cross, it is here alone that we see our Lord forgiving His enemies, “Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing.”

But when the Passion reaches its climax, it places our Lord between two unsavoury characters who deserve their just punishment. Jesus, of course, is the odd one out. He is totally innocent of the charges laid upon Him. Rather than just punishment, it is the greatest injustice as His executors put the Son of God to death. He is the innocent and sinless one who freely accepts our human condition to the point of even identifying with sinful humanity on the cross. Here on the cross, He suffers the ignoble humiliation of being grouped together with thieves, murderers, rebels and the worst dregs of humanity. However, an amazing thing happens as it always does, when we encounter the Lord. Those who willingly open themselves to the transforming grace of the Lord would see a new path open up before them. The ending of the worst story can be rewritten all over again.  Here, the Lord opens His arms and heart in mercy and the repentant thief receives the promise of paradise.

This amazing story reminds us that our past background, our previous conditioning, and all the trouble that life has thrown at us and even past sinful habits are really not decisive in charting a new course for the future. Mercy shown to those who repent can transform the ending. It is reminiscent of a voice-over commentary that appears at the beginning and at the end of the comic-book to movie character, Hell Boy, where in answer to the profoundly philosophical question of “what makes a man a man?” the answer is, “it’s not how you decide to begin but how you choose to end it.” The movie portrays a quintessential and remarkably Catholic Christian message: redemption even for the ostensibly irredeemable.

But the gospel also points at the insurmountable splendour of grace. We may often be tempted by hubris to believe that we can accomplish things through our own efforts without external assistance, with even a certain autonomy from God. The hero of the movie I’ve just mentioned is not Hellboy. The hero of every man or woman’s story is God. It has always been God. His grace shines through the blackest of human sin. God had sent His Son to seek and to save that which is lost. The Son weaved His own history into the history of sinners in order that He may redeem that history and chart a course for a glorious future. And finally, the Son, would choose to end the story by that great sacrifice on the cross. And through His death and resurrection, He has made all things new. It is Christ who frees us from our past. It is Christ who frees us from our baggage.

Every now and then, it’s good for us on this journey to sainthood, to be reminded that we’re still pretty much sinners. We have feet of clay. Every time I’ve gotten just a little too comfortable with the correctness of my words, or the correctness of my deeds, it’s good to be reminded that my heart is always in need of transformation. Every time I’ve started to think that it’s about me – about my words, and my deeds, and my efforts, and my intentions, I’m reminded that it’s about God – about what God is doing and how I need to make myself available to the ways God is working and moving through me. My achievements like last year’s palms have been reduced to ashes. We begin afresh this year with the new palms we’ve just received. The palms we wish to welcome our Saviour and King, the palms of martyrdom we hope to hold as we remain faithful witnesses to the end.

What is most vital, however, is our personal openness to the grace and mercy of God. With such powerful help, even the most tawdry or sordid past can be forgiven and forgotten.  For those of us who look back at our countless failures and who labour under the heavy burden of a past littered with mistakes, this gospel story gives us hope and encouragement. We may evade, we may fail, we fall, we slide, we slip, we stumble, we sin, but our loving Heavenly Father is always there, ready to pick us up…if only we open ourselves to repent, to change, to live in harmony with God’s way and will, to become what God has created and called us to be. Repentance moves us beyond our historical baggage.

In the movie Hellboy, the motto of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense where Hellboy and his adopted father worked, was blazoned in Latin across the building's frontage: In absentia luci, tenebrae vincus (In the absence of light, darkness is victorious.) Christ the Light has come, and the long dark night has been repelled. Beyond the darkness looming over Good Friday, comes the bright morning of Easter. This is our prayer and hope that not only do we get to decide how to end things, but ultimately it is God who decides how the story ends.  So during this Holy Week, do not just be contented with attending the Good Friday service. Come, every day if possible and stay especially for the ending. In the end, it is love and grace that will save us, love and grace that can transform every human heart, including the ones like ours.