An Ass and a Colt

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

The gospel reading before the procession sets out the familiar scene of our Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The lectionary provides us with slightly different versions of the same event and we are treated to St Matthew’s version this year. If you suffer from some pedantic streak like me, a connoisseur of the minutest and sometimes seemingly most insignificant details, you would notice a certain anomaly in the text. It is the mount of our Lord. It is not a single animal as mentioned in the other parallel text but two! The reason for the omission of a second beast in Mark and Luke could be due to neither quoting from the prophecy of Zechariah. Matthew, however, in fulfilment of the prophecy of Zechariah, which he quotes, and our Lord’s own prophetic instructions to His disciples, has the disciples bring an “ass and the colt.” I’m not sure about you but the thought of having two steeds instead of one strikes me as funny. Imagine our Lord straddling two animals like a circus performer.

Before we examine this seemingly strange phenomenon of having two animals, let us have a closer look at the original text in Zechariah 9:9. It is a messianic prophecy which speaks of the King (the Messiah) coming to His people in humility riding on an animal. The expression is easily explained as a common type of poetic emphasis used in Old Testament times. The Messiah sits on an animal. It is an ass. More than that, it is a colt, the foal of an ass, meaning very young. Therefore, most would take it (and this is what Mark and Luke does) to mean one animal instead of two. The language used is not a reference to an ass and a colt but rather to an ass which is also a colt, a foal of an ass. Are you still following? I hope I’ve not lost you.

But St Matthew takes the prophecy literally and so in his account, Jesus instructs His disciples to untie both the ass and the colt and to lead them to Him. Some commentators attempt to explain the reason this way. Christ first rode the ass up and down the hill and then transferred and rode the colt into the city. There is a practical reason for this. The she-ass would be stronger and more able to go up and down the terrain. Next, the colt, being more agile and light, would be able to bring Him into the city easily.

But more interesting is the spiritual sense or patristic allegorical interpretation given to these two animals. The she-ass and her colt signify the two sorts of people of which the world is made up—the Jews, accustomed to the yoke of the Mosaic law, who were represented by the ass; and the Gentiles, living up to this time without the Law of God, and who were denoted by the colt. Even though the ass had been well trained, the Jews had centuries of being familiarised with the Law of Moses, the law remained a burden to them. Likewise, just like a young colt that has not been ridden nor trained, Gentiles did not have the benefit of being trained by the Law. Christ our Lord rode both to signify that both the Jews and the Gentiles were called to be Christophoroi – Christ-bearers. That’s how we get the name of that famous saint, St Christopher.

Far from being absurd, the picture shows two things. First of all, it reveals our Lord’s control over nature and all created beings. A colt, so young that it has never been ridden and is even accompanied by its mother tags obediently along. It is fitting that Jesus, the Second Adam, should display Dr Doolittle powers lost to man after the Fall. Secondly, it emphasises the meekness and humility with which this One comes, exactly as St Paul describes Him in the second reading: “His state was divine, yet Christ Jesus did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave and became as men are; and being as all men are, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.” This is no conquering king who has destroyed Israel’s enemies and is riding triumphantly into Jerusalem at the head of an army, but upon a colt hardly able to support His weight. This is the Saviour who has come to die for the sins of the world.

Choosing an ass or its colt as steed may be more than an action which merely displays our Lord’s humility. In ancient times, dignitaries would ride donkeys in civil processions, and horses in military ones. A king arriving on a donkey would indicate that the person was on a peaceful mission, not one bent on military conquest. Whatever one makes of the rabbinic ideas about the Messiah, our Lord’s coming on a donkey shows His true intentions and agenda. He has returned as an undefeated victor without a sword in His hand but with the offer of peace and reconciliation. Even though His life would be met with violence which would end in death, He “made no resistance”, nor did He “turn away,” from the blows of His enemies, as we heard in Isaiah’s prophecy of the Suffering Servant in the first reading.

Lastly, today’s liturgy and the readings also serve as a mirror which shows up our true disposition as we come before the Lord, exposing our weaknesses, our sinfulness and unworthiness to welcome such a King as He. According to Talmudic tradition, if we are worthy, the Messiah will come in the clouds (a reference to Daniel 7:13). But if we are unworthy, he will come riding on a donkey. In other rabbinic conversations, some say the Messiah will come when all Israel repents and proves their worthiness; others, when all Israel observes one Sabbath together. Until that happens, we cannot expect the Messiah. These two comings are related to the two comings of Christ that we always speak about in the season of Advent. The first coming was in humility at the Incarnation. The second coming of Christ would be at the end of this age as He returns in glory, perhaps most popularly represented as coming in the clouds. But despite our unworthiness, our Lord still comes to His people sitting on an ass and a colt, as He retakes His seat of glory - now in apparent humiliation on the throne of the cross but later, He will assume His throne of glory at the right side of the Father in heaven.

At the beginning of Holy Week, an ass and its colt carried a King in procession to retake His throne, but at the end of this week, this King, our Lord and Saviour will carry the instrument of our salvation, the cross, like a beast of burden, so that we may now enter into His kingdom. He rode on a beast of burden because He came to bear our burdens. Our Lord calls us to place our burdens upon Him every single day that we live here in this world. He willingly carries our burdens. He happily carries them, knowing that in our weakness, in Him we are strong.

A Time to Keep Silent, A Time to Speak Out

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

One of the most important pieces of advice someone would give us is “make your voice be heard.” Whether it is to express your opinion at a meeting, or speaking up in class, or starting a podcast to air your views or participating in a demonstration in support of some political cause, making your voice heard seems to be a reasonably good piece of advice.

On this first day of Holy Week, we Christians are reminded of our fundamental duty to make our voices heard, not in the sense of self-promotion or drawing attention to oneself, nor in seeking to influence others and win them over to our side, but that we may proclaim the wonders of God’s work.

In the first gospel reading we heard before the entrance procession, the Pharisees were complaining that the disciples and crowd who were welcoming our Lord to Jerusalem were making a ruckus by shouting and singing. They told the Lord: “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” In other words, they were asking our Lord to tell them: “be quiet.” This noisy behaviour, in their own estimation, was not the behaviour of pious disciples of a holy rabbi but sounded more like a gang of loud drunken sailors. Our Lord, instead of bending to pressure, doubles down and defends His disciples by commending them: “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”

In the first reading, the prophet Isaiah declares that the Lord Himself had given him “a disciple’s tongue.” It is not a glib tongue that will earn him fans or popular support. In fact, what he says at the behest of God would prove so unpopular that he would be the subject of rejection, ridicule and persecution. The image of the Suffering Servant who remains faithful to his mission in the face of adversity becomes an apt figure for the future Messiah. Our Lord’s own passion would be the fulfilment of the words of Isaiah: “I offered my back to those who struck me, my cheeks to those who tore at my beard; I did not cover my face against insult and spittle.” Despite such taunting, torture and opposition, the servant remains steadfast in mission to “speak out” on behalf of the Lord because he knows that with the Lord’s help, no insult would hurt him.

The theme of speaking out is contrasted with its counterpart of remaining silent. St Paul in the second reading paints this beautiful picture of the One who is God humbling Himself to such an extent of assuming the lowly state of a slave. His humility would go so far as to accept the penalty of death even though He is the Deathless God. The Word of God whom chaos could not silence at the beginning of creation chooses to mute Himself out of love and obedience to the Father’s will. What should our response be in knowing this truth, the truth that God’s greatest act in history would be in becoming small? Our silence is not an option. St Paul tells us that “every tongue should acclaim Jesus Christ as Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” His decision to become human has not compromised His divinity. On the contrary, His humiliation in death is the very reason we acknowledge His glory as Lord and God.

In the lengthy passion gospel reading that we just heard, we notice our Lord’s response to those around Him. From the scene of the Last Supper to His lifeless body being taken down from the cross, we see a man who is very much in charge though others assume that they have taken charge of Him. Sometimes He speaks and sometimes He chooses to remain silent. As the narrative progresses, notice that our Lord eventually chooses to remain silent especially when He is accused, ridiculed and mocked. But our Lord does not cease speaking directly to His Heavenly Father. The Father, however, remains silent throughout this soliloquy. The one exception to our Lord’s silence is when He promises salvation to the good thief who was crucified with Him. As His life expired on the cross, His final words summed up His entire life and mission. Once again, addressed solely to the Heavenly Father: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” At the end, instead of ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ as we would hear in Mark’s Passion, Luke’s Jesus Himself tranquilly yields His life into the Father’s hands, obediently completing His Father’s will.

How different our Lord’s response at His trials and crucifixion is from ordinary human nature. Even when we have done something wrong and know we are wrong, still the first words that tend to form in our mouths are words of excuses and self-defence. And what about when we are right but are blamed for being wrong? Most of us would be quick to speak up and protest our innocence. It’s just human nature to want to speak up and justify ourselves. But our Lord met His accusers with silence, as had the prophet Isaiah written seven hundred years ago, “He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opens not his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7). He held back any words that would have relieved Him from the shame and blame of sin. He was not a sinner, but He took fully the sinner’s place. Thank God that Jesus was willing to be counted a sinner before men, that we might be counted as righteous before God! Thank God, He chose to speak up on our behalf, even though His own disciples chose to remain silent in His hour of need.

Our Lord reveals the truth behind this paradox first announced by the philosopher king: “A time to keep silence, And a time to speak” (Eccles 3:7-8). Our Lord provides us with a model to follow and imitate. There is a time to remain silent and a time to speak up. We need to seek wisdom from the Holy Spirit as to when it’s time for each response. When it comes to ourselves, do remember that we do not need to have the last word or pursue any argument to vindicate ourselves. God is our vindicator if indeed we were unfairly maligned. But when you are given the opportunity to testify to who Jesus is and your faith in Him, don’t hesitate to honour Him with your words and your testimony. Even if you’re treated in a similar manner to the treatment He endured, honour Him with your lips, your lifestyle, and the lasting impression you leave upon those you interact with in this world. 

Hosanna! “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Pray, Act and Be Sent

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

The evangelist paints this poignant picture of the Lord and how His shepherd’s heart is moved with pity when He sees the crowds “because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd.” Our Lord is describing the condition of man apart from God, he is like “sheep without a shepherd.” The Jewish people of that day did indeed have some kind of spiritual guides and shepherds, namely the scribes, priests, Levites, and Pharisees. Yet for the most part they were worthless.

Then our Lord uses another imagery, He moves from a pastoral to an agrarian metaphor: “the harvest is rich but the labourers are few.” Both imageries evoke two different but not unrelated pictures: a neglected flock of sheep, and a harvest going to waste for lack of reapers. Both imply, not only a pitiful plight of the people, but a blameworthy neglect of duty on the part of their religious guides.

So, what is the solution? What can we do in such a dark situation where the problem seems so much larger than any solution we can muster? It is common for many to feel hapless and powerless and merely resign themselves to the dire situation which is beyond their control. Rather than what most people would do, which is to just feel sorry about the other’s predicament, our Lord goes beyond mere sentiments and good intentions. He prays and He acts.

Prayer must always come first instead of being a last resort. We often buy into the lie that prayer is a backup plan when all our resources are exhausted and plans fail. But, prayer should always be the first thing we must do in any situation. Since the harvest belongs to the Lord of the Harvest, we are commanded to pray that He would send workers to reap His harvest. The English translation “send” does not do justice to the original Greek word. The Greek is much more forcible, it is that He would push them forward, compel them and thrust them out; it is the same word which is used for the expulsion of a devil from a man possessed. It takes great power to drive a devil out, it will need equal power from God to drive a Christian out from his comfort zone to do his mission.

Prayer is never a replacement for action. It does not push the buck to God so as to exonerate one from taking responsibility. Our Lord acts and answers the very prayer which He tells His disciples to do. He tells His disciples to ask the Lord of the Harvest to send more labourers and He as the Lord of the Harvest now sends them out.

The scene of our Lord calling the Twelve and sending them out with authority recalls the scene in the first reading, where God calls Moses to ascend Mount Sinai to receive the Law from God. But instead of Moses, we have here, someone greater than Moses. In fact this is the Word that leapt down from the heavens, this is the One whom Moses encountered in the clouds that covered the mountaintop, and from His hands, Moses received the Ten Commandments, the One who is the author of that Law. In the case of Moses, the rest of Israel had to remain at the foot of the mountain and only Moses was given safe passage. But now in this scene, our Lord summons the Twelve to come to Him, they will be the foundation of the new Israel, an Israel that will not be kept at a distance but a new Israel who will have God in their midst.

The new Israel is the Church, “a kingdom of priests, a consecrated nation.” The Greek word for Church is Ekklesia which comes from the Greek verb, ekkaleo, which means “to summon” or “to call out.” And so we see here our Lord summoning the Twelve and they come to Him. It is a reminder that to be a member of the Church is a vocation. God takes the initiative by calling us, we merely respond. The Church is not man-made. It is God-initiated. If it was man-made it would not be worth our time and effort.

The mission of the Twelve and that of the Church is two-fold. First, they are called to be with the Lord, to be His companions. That is essential. What they are to be and what they are to do, would ultimately be defined by their relationship with Christ. Without Christ, they are nothing. They were to be with their Lord not only in the mountain-top periods, but also during the worst of times in which He was abandoned, mocked, rejected and crucified. Ultimately, they were with Him after the resurrection as eyewitnesses of the Risen Lord who had defeated death. The testimony of these Apostolic witnesses was necessary to confirm that the Church which is built on Apostolic foundation is not just a human organisation but the mystical Body of Christ.

The second part of that mission is to preach the Good News, which includes the liberating power of the gospel to set mankind free from evil. The Church is essentially missionary. She exists to preach the gospel in both word and deed. When the Church ceases to preach the Word and substitutes it with some social justice advocacy and work, she ceases to be the Church. When this happens, she is no different from any other NGO. She will be doing good work, no doubt about it, but it would be the work of man for men, not the work of God - Opus Dei - for the salvation of souls.

Were these men called to lay the foundations of the Church exceptional by any standard? Hardly. Our Lord called men, not angels. They came from different backgrounds, with different personalities, and yet they were all chosen to serve the Lord in a unique and special way. For the most part, these men were average, ordinary men. In fact, their résumés would not have landed them lucrative or influential positions among society. Many of them proved to be failures and even one, was responsible for betraying our Lord and another denied Him at His hour of need. As someone once said, “the Lord doesn’t call the equipped or those with abilities; He equips the called, and seeks availability.”

And so, as we are often disappointed and sometimes even scandalised by the conduct of the members and leaders of the Church, we must remember that the Church, the beautiful Bride of Christ, His Mystical Body, is also a Church made up of sinful and imperfect members. But knowing that should not deter us from running into her arms and seek her loving care. For to turn our backs on the Church, would mean to turn our backs on Christ who called us to be His faithful companions to carry on the mission of preaching the gospel to the ends of the earth. And the Church continues to do this because she is not man-made, but divinely instituted!

So, when we witness bad shepherds who neglect their duty and abuse their flock, what should we do? Harbour resentment, trash the Church or turn our backs on the Bride of Christ? The answer can be found in listening to our Lord and imitating what He did - pray that the Lord of the Harvest will send more labourers; and then listen to His call, to His command to “go... and as you go, proclaim that the kingdom of heaven is close at hand. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. You received without charge, give without charge.”

Blessed is He who comes

Palm Sunday

Knowing our need to see and to touch, the Church offers our senses a veritable feast during Holy Week. And who doesn’t love a free door gift, right? Catholics are no different. Today, we get to collect and hold our palms at the start of this Mass as we welcome the King of Kings. The palms, explains the liturgist Fr Pius Parsch, are “symbols of our loyalty to Him and of our willingness to do Him homage.” Thursday, we will witness the priest wash the feet of members of the congregation. Friday is when we march to the front to express our reverence and devotion to the wood of the cross, on which hung the salvation of the world. And on Saturday, we will hold candles as we welcome the Light of the World into our midst, into our world darkened by sin and death, now vanquished by our Risen Lord.

For many, these precious sacramentals were painfully denied to us and we had to be contented with the virtual experience of following these liturgical celebrations online. We could see but not touch. We could hear but not feel. These past few years had not just disrupted our routines but they had also been an assault to our sense of humanity. Seeing, hearing, touching, smelling and feeling is part of what makes us human.

But this year, we are back with a vengeance. We have been beaten, bruised, starved, masked, vaccinated, sanitised and deprived, but not defeated. Like the palms we hold, symbols of a martyr’s victory over death, we have survived. Like a Phoenix which rises anew from the ashes of its destruction, we Catholics have been reborn. Our victory is in Christ who faced death without flinching and even embraced it in a wrestle to the end and emerged victorious.

Today, at the start of Holy Week, the liturgy already provides us with a teaser of the ending. Yes, we have heard how our Lord would suffer in the long passion reading according to St Matthew, but we are also given a glimpse of how His passion is also a triumphant procession to victory: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” Hosanna is the cry of the people to God to “save us” and our Lord Jesus Christ is the answer to their pleas because His name, Jesus, means God saves!

The procession we witnessed at the start of today’s liturgy commemorates the procession our Lord undertook when He entered Jerusalem to fulfil His mission. It was one of the few times in His life that our Lord accepted public honours. He only did so on His own terms, upsetting all our expectations of what we think a king should be. The palms which the citizens of Jerusalem held have also taken on a new meaning because of Christ. They are now symbols of martyrdom, a Christian’s true glory and honour. Our Lord received gold, the symbol of kingly power, only as a helpless infant. Now, as a man who has manifested unimaginable power, He chooses the meekness prophesied by Zechariah, repeated in today’s Mass: “Tell the daughter of Sion, Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of an ass” (Matthew 21:5) “He is the king of peace,” writes the late Pope Benedict XVI, “and by God’s power, not His own.”

In just a few days, the lauds will turn to sneers: “We have no king but Caesar!” A distressed Pilate puts the question to Jesus, “Are you the king of the Jews?” “My kingdom is not of this world,” He replies. He is Lord not just of a particular people, nor even of “this world.” He transcends all that this world has to offer. He is Truth itself, the very foundation upon which the world rests. “For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.” (John 18:37)

Those who reject the truth send Him to the Cross, the most ironic of thrones for the king to mount. Near the end of today’s passion reading, we hear the chief priests and scribes mock and ridicule Him: “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the king of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He puts his trust in God; now let God rescue him if he wants him. For he did say, ‘I am the son of God.’” Even in mockery, unwittingly they state a truth which underlies this entire story - Jesus is no mere king of the Jews, feted by people and hailed to be their political liberator. He is so much more. He is “the son of God.” Today, we cry with the people of Jerusalem as we do at every Mass, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” He who has come to save us, has come to die for us and in dying for us, He has come to feed us with His Body and Blood in the Eucharist! Divine Food that is real, not just virtual. So we sing, “Hosanna in the highest.”

Glory and Blood

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

The most visible accoutrement for this Sunday is the palm branch, and for good reason. The palm branch was a symbol of triumph and of victory in the ancient world, and in Jewish tradition. But having paid closer attention to the first Gospel taken from Luke, it is at least a little ironic to refer to this Sunday as “Palm Sunday.” Actually, only John (12:13) mentions “palm branches.” Matthew mentions “branches from the trees”, while Mark describes them as “leafy branches.” Luke mentions nothing about any foliage. So, if you didn’t manage to get your hands on a nice leafy palm, don’t complain.

Be that as it may, why “palms?” It was a common custom in many lands in the ancient Near East to cover the path of someone thought worthy of the highest honour. The Hebrew Bible reports that Joshua was treated this way. The Gospels of Mark, Matthew and John report that people gave our Lord this form of honour. In Matthew/ Mark they are reported as laying their garments and cut branches on the street, whereas John more specifically mentions palm fronds. Luke mentions only garments being spread on the road as a kind of ancient red-carpet reception to our Lord whom the people feted as their Messianic King.

As mentioned earlier, the palm as a symbol of victory predates both Jewish and Christian tradition. But in Christian iconography, the palm has taken on a radically new meaning of being a symbol of martyrdom. This association may have arisen from the natural habitat of palm trees. To travellers in the arid desert, palm trees were beacons of hope because of their association with oases and life. Where you find a palm tree in a desert, you are bound to find a water source. But it is not just the water that sustains the traveller but the fruits or dates from the palm tree. It was thought, that at the time the palm tree produced its fruits it died, hence it was meant as a sacrifice, as well as a symbol of the resurrection.

So, there is no contradiction between the earlier symbol of victory with the later Christian symbolism for martyrdom. For isn’t martyrdom victory of the spirit over the earthly and the flesh, as well as a symbol of rebirth and of immortality, which is victory over death? And isn’t this the paradoxical lens in which we must view the Lord in today’s liturgy? Although the Son of God appeared to be the least among men, He was born to be a king in the most admirable way. Though He was feted as an earthly king as He entered Jerusalem, it would only be from the throne of the cross where He will be revealed as King of the Universe in all His glory.

If Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem had been the peak and culmination of our faith story, would we be Catholic, would we even be here, would we have the crucifix on the walls of this church and our homes, would we prayerfully process to partake of His body and His blood, would the name of Jesus even be remembered after 2000 years? And the answer is simply ‘no’. Today, is not the climax of the story. We had an early teaser of the climax in our lengthy Passion Gospel reading but even then, the death of our Lord would be the anti-climax. What we experienced today, is but a pale shadow of what will happen next week, although today’s celebration seems openly public, God chose to have the resurrection of Christ at Easter experienced in mystery and in secret, only to be made known through the testimonies of those who have seen and touched the Risen Lord in the flesh.

But the Palms that you received remain a vital and meaningful part of our lives, and this is not just confined to Palm Sunday. They are more than ‘those Catholic things’ that we twist or braid and hang on the wall or behind a special picture and forget about. These palms are part of both our entry Gospel as well as the great account of our Lord’s Passion. But they are also a part of our story – yours and mine.

Two months ago, you were invited to bring the palms you received last year back to church. Six weeks ago, those palms were burnt outside this church. The resulting ashes were then further pulverised to prepare them for use on Ash Wednesday. Those ashes, made of palms we had with us for a year, reminded us of our mortality, our sinfulness and our need for reconciliation, conversion, and prayer. They remind us of the vanity and fragility of human glory. One day you are a hero in the eyes of others. Another day, you can descend into zero.

Today we begin again with new palms. These new palms should lead us to the question of how we have changed since we had ashes from those triumphal palms sprinkled on the crown of our heads. What have we learned since Ash Wednesday? How are we different, are we better people because of the efforts we put into this Lenten season?

Lent is bracketed, bookended, by palms; the loss, burning and destruction of them at its onset and then, the new green leaves this day, near the end. Ultimately that is what this sacred season is about, burning away, clearing out, purifying and cultivating something new.

Take the palm branches with you today; let them be a reminder that we are entering the holiest week of the year. The week that begins with the false triumphal entry into Jerusalem, ends with the true triumph over death at the cross. These palms challenge us to remember our role in our Lord’s Passion – that those great sufferings endured by our Lord were endured for each of us. They are our badge of honour, not trophies of success in human terms, but a reminder that we are called to share in the passion, death and resurrection of Christ. We are indeed called to be “martyrs,” “witnesses” as the Greek root “martyron” suggests.

Five weeks ago, we heard: Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Those ashes on our heads have washed off, but these palms can stay with us, offering mute testimony and calling us to not forget who we are – sinners in need of our Lord’s grace, and what we can be – sinners who have placed our lives in the hands of our loving God. Reminders that it is in humility that we will find true glory, in death can we discover eternal life. Please take these palms with you today. Because in a sense, just like those palms, each of us this day also holds our future in our hands. Will we only choose to walk the path of human glory or follow our Lord faithfully on the way to the Cross?

In Truth, this man was the Son of God

Palm Sunday 2021

The Passion of Christ in the Gospel of St Mark does not begin with the familiar story of the Last Supper or with our Lord’s agony in the garden. It begins with the story of an unnamed woman, who is identified as Mary of Bethany in the Gospel of St John but here she remains anonymous, breaking a jar of expensive aromatic oil and pouring its contents over the head of our Lord. Whereas in St John’s account, Mary of Bethany pours the oil on the feet of our Lord and wipes it with her hair, this unnamed woman in St Mark’s version pours it over His head.

In Matthew’s, Mark’s and John’s account of this story, the onlookers are scandalised by this exorbitant act of wastage. To understand the magnitude of her act, we are told that the oil was worth “more than three hundred denarii,” the equivalent of an entire year’s wages in those days. I guess men and women would process this differently. Women would view this as proof of one’s love, no gift is ever too pricey. But the men’s reaction to the price tag couldn’t be any more different – it would be met by sheer incredulity, “what?!” For us modern folks, I suspect that we would have been more shocked by the audacity of a stranger pouring a jar of oil over the head of your guest of honour (like a pie in the face) than worry about the cost of the prank.

But our Lord did not take this as an insult but in fact, commends her action because He understood the true value of her sacrifice. We all know that the Lord Jesus is the Christ, the long-awaited Messiah. Both these titles, the former a Greek word and the latter Hebrew, literally translates as the “Anointed One,” and this woman’s action affirms this in one spectacular theological move. In the ancient Near East, the act of anointing signified selection for some special role or task. In the Old Testament, priests, prophets and kings were anointed with oil as a symbol of receiving their authority and appointment from God. It is ironic that our Lord should receive this anointing, not at the beginning of His ministry, but at the end of it. But there is no irony if we understand that the day of His crucifixion is also the day He ascends the throne of glory.

Yes, our Lord is anointed because He is the Messianic King, but this anointing is not just meant for His coronation and ascension to the throne. It is also meant to prepare Him for His burial as it was an ancient custom to anoint bodies with fragrant oils before they were embalmed and buried. In this act of the woman, we see both the coronation and the death of our King. Aren’t these the two foundational themes of today’s liturgy? A city welcomes their king on Sunday and the same crowd proceeds to crucify Him on Friday.

This anointing also tells us that our Lord is the fulfilment of the Old Testament rites and customs involving the Passover Lamb. This is the context. The Passover lamb was chosen six days before the sacrifice. On the first day, its feet and ankles were anointed with oil, as our Lord’s feet were in John 12:1–8. For five days, it would be inspected for flaws, as our Lord was when He taught and debated in the temple (Mark 11:15–12:40). Two days before the Passover, the lamb's head would be anointed, as our Lord’s head is, here. Our Lord is indeed the Paschal Lamb, “the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world.”

Why was this woman’s action so important that it would be immortalised in the centuries to come? Well, the answer is to be found in our Lord’s commendation of her action. She had affirmed what the disciples had failed to grasp or refused to accept - that the Anointed One, the new Passover Lamb, has to be killed before He can save His people.

Our Lord had been speaking of His impending death for a while, but the Twelve were having difficulty accepting this. When the Lord told Peter that “the Messiah must be rejected, suffer, and die; then he will be raised,” Peter responded with such an impassioned protest that our Lord had to rebuke him with “get behind me Satan!” In another instance, our Lord spoke ominously of His death, and the disciples responded by debating who will be the greatest in the coming kingdom. And in another episode, James and John missed the point entirely by responding to our Lord’s prediction with requests to sit at His right and left hand.

Clearly, the Twelve struggled to conceive of a kingdom that would begin with the death of the Messiah. How could a dead Messiah raise a glorious kingdom? While others would see the establishment of kingdoms by crushing one’s mortal enemies, and this was the expectation of the crowds who welcomed our Lord triumphantly into Jerusalem, our Lord’s victory would be secured in a very different and least expected manner - by Him humbly submitting to death. I suspect this is why they complained about the “waste” of money exhibited by the anointing. They imagined that their ministry with our Lord would continue for years to come. The money gained from selling this oil could be the initial capital in funding an insurrection. But instead of arguing this, they raise the issue of the poor. This is disingenuous. Those who have an issue giving the best to God, will also find difficulty in giving to the poor. The poor are merely cited here as an excuse for their stinginess and inability to sacrifice - sacrifice being the hallmark of discipleship.

And so this unnamed woman is pivotal to the story of Mark’s Passion narrative and she becomes the first of Christ’s disciples to acknowledge His impending death. If John the Baptist is the precursor of our Lord’s ministry, this woman is the precursor of His death. For this reason, our Lord praises her in unparalleled terms. “I tell you solemnly, wherever throughout all the world the Good News is proclaimed, what she has done will be told also, in remembrance of her.” What a remarkable thought— these last words spoken of her is also spoken and heard at every Eucharist, when the priest utters these words during the consecration, “do this in memory of me.” That at every Mass, this woman’s story should be on our lips, right along with Christ’s. 

As we enter Holy Week, accompanying our Lord as He enters Jerusalem, our journey eventually leads us to the foot of the cross. There can be no other detour. That is our destination because it was our Lord’s. Through the action of this woman, we realise that our Lord’s death was not accidental, He voluntarily embraces it knowing that His Father is in control. Some people are made for certain jobs, others made for each other in marriage but our Lord was sent and anointed for this - to die for us and for our salvation. And it would be at that very last moment when He breathes His last breath on the cross, we will come to recognise the truth proclaimed by the centurion, a truth which eluded His disciples just like how they were unable to accept His death, “in truth, this man was a son of God!”

 

The King who comes in Humility and Silence

Palm Sunday

Public opinion is a fragile thing, especially for politicians. In a world, where polls often seem to take the place of prophets, the final outcome still remains an open question. You may be leading in the polls, but that doesn’t mean that you would get the most votes when the actual ballots are counted. Likewise, the underdogs should not throw in the towel too prematurely. Who knows? They may emerge as the unsuspected victor.

This is what happened during the first Holy Week. A descendent of David enters the city of Jerusalem and is hailed as king by the crowds but at the end of the week, he is condemned a criminal. At the beginning of the week, he is considered the best candidate, but as the week progresses, as public opinion wanes, he is regarded as the worst. This is reflected in the triumphant tone at the start of our liturgy which slowly evolves into a bitter story of betrayal and rejection. As far as public opinion is concerned, it had turned against this man. It is true that public opinion is a dangerous beast to try and ride, not even kings are safe from its force.

The transition in today’s liturgy reflects these two moments in the “political career” of Jesus. We heard in the gospel reading at the beginning of this liturgy, how the crowds came out to welcome Jesus greeting Him as the Son of David. They gave Him the Messianic title and acclaimed Him as the royal Son of God. Saint Matthew quotes from the prophet Zechariah who in a series of prophecies, tells of the coming of the last king who will be a true prince of peace. He was writing against the memory of failed kings whose inadequacies and vanity had brought about the end of the kingdom of Judah. Zechariah tells the returned exiles from Babylon that the true king will come not as a tyrant robed in power and might, but gentle and humble and riding on a donkey. They had seen enough of powerful rulers in the pagan kings. In other words, he would not seem like a king at all. His coming was to be so discreet that it would be possible to miss it altogether. No pomp and pageantry. This king would be characterised by humility and silence.

Saint Paul reminds us that “Christ Jesus did not cling to His equality with God but emptied Himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are; and being as all men are, He was humbler yet, even to accepting death on a cross.” He could have chosen to descend on the city of Jerusalem arrayed in His divine glory, surrounded by angelic courtiers, but instead, in His humility He chose to be “born of a woman.”(Gal 4:4) In His humility, He shows and manifests His own need for the Father, for the help of others, and for created things. The Creator of all things, who is complete and wholly sufficient, affirms His need for a steed, to ride on His journey into Jerusalem, “The Lord has need...” The King of glory chose to communicate His need for a room to keep the Passover with His disciples. The One who is all knowing, chose to allow one of His own intimate disciples to betray Him. The all-powerful One did not pretend or hide His sadness and distress from His disciples at the Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. He who had the ready command of twelve legions of angels asked for the company of frail men, “My soul is sorrowful to the point of death. Wait here and keep awake with me.”

As Holy Week progresses the contrast between the imperial liturgy that surrounded Caesar, the earthly Lord of the World, and Jesus, the Incarnate Word through whom all things were made, becomes more marked. He is dressed in the parody of the imperial purple. He wears the thorny crown as a mock diadem. He bears the reed as the fake scepter. Pilate presents Him to the crowds for their acclamation and finally He is enthroned on the cross. As his soldiers on a shield raised the emperor at his accession, so Christ is raised on the lofty eminence of the cross. Instead of the crowd of admiring courtiers shouting acclamations of praise, a motely group of frightened and insecure clerics, ruffians and disappointed idealists, shout insults at the foot of the cross. The drama of Holy Week is an exercise in pantomime. The true prince, whom nobody can really see, is present all of the time and his true identity is revealed in the last scene of the drama. The true Kingship of Christ is not revealed during His triumphant entry into Jerusalem with all its fanfare. No, His true Kingship is revealed on the wood of the cross where He willingly hangs in place of the shame and humiliation brought on by our sinfulness.

Earthly powers attempt to emphasise their might and dignity through inflicting ridicule and humiliation on those who oppose them, little do they realise that the joke is on them. It is their pretensions to supremacy that are being held up as vain and empty. Christ, the Lord of Glory, in His humility, questions the foundations on which all earthly power is founded. At the end of the crucifixion scene in Saint Matthew’s Passion, the Centurion ironically declares “in truth this was the Son of God.” The representative of Caesar, standing beneath the throne of the cross acclaims the true king whose identity is now clear for all to see. Christ who submits to the yoke of the cross holds out His arms and says ‘come to me all you who labour and are heavily burdened and I will give you rest.’ ‘I am gentle and lowly of heart and you will find rest for your souls.’

Jesus Christ remains a central figure of interest for modern man. There isn’t much argument about whether He actually was a historical person, but nearly everything else about His life generates enormous, and sometimes rancorous, debate. Some love Him, others hate Him, some revere Him, others feel ambivalent about Him. Public opinion will always be divided. But our Christian faith is not built on public opinion. Even though we may be constantly under pressure to conform to the standards of the world, Christians should not allow mainstream public opinion, the standards of society, to dictate our conduct or decisions. Our faith is built on the conviction that He is indeed the long-awaited king, the Saviour of the World, “the stone rejected which has become the corner stone.” Things that the world considers foolish, weak, and ignoble, God views as wise, powerful, and honourable. (1 Cor. 1:25-28)

We Malaysians have suffered a double blow. In the face of a growing frightening pandemic unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, we saw a transition in our government through a “back door.” Within a week, we witnessed changing political alliances that seemed to move faster than the speed of light. The way the present government is dealing with the medical crisis and the implementation of the lockdown order have also seen shifting public opinion. One day we think they are doing a good job. Another day, we blame them for all and sundry. How will this all end? We have to admit in all honesty that we do not know. The outcome of this political upheaval is as uncertain as the course this pandemic will take in the coming weeks and perhaps even months.

Though I cannot give you a prediction about our political future or how this pandemic will turn out, I can confidently tell you how the story of Holy Week will end for Jesus. We don’t need political pundits or scientists to tell us how the story will end. We know how the story ends – His supporters will abandon Him, one will betray Him, His enemies will kill Him. But that’s not the real end of the story. His campaign will not end in defeat but in astounding victory. And if we have remained steadfast and faithful to Him, His victory will be ours too!