Commentaries on the Passion Narrative in Luke’s Gospel
/LIVING SPACE/SACRED SPACE PALM SUNDAY 2022
AFTER FIVE WEEKS of preparation we now enter the climax of the Lenten season and what we call Holy Week. In a way, the whole week from today until Easter Sunday should be seen as one unit – the presentation of what we call the Paschal Mystery. This Paschal Mystery includes the sufferings, death, resurrection, ascension of Jesus into glory and the sending of the Spirit on the disciples of Jesus to continue the work he began. Although it is, for liturgical and catechetical reasons, spread over a period of seven weeks, it should also be seen as an indivisible single experience.
This week sees the climax of the mission of Jesus Christ in which the deepest meaning of his life is unfolded and in which his teaching becomes incarnated in his own words and actions.
Today’s celebration (for, strange to say, the terrible happenings we are about to listen to are truly a cause for celebration on our part) is divided into two distinct parts: the procession with palms and the Mass proper. (The particular Mass you attend may not include both parts as many parishes will only do the first part at one of the day’s Masses.)
Joy and triumph
In the first part the prevailing atmosphere is one of joy and the vestments in today’s liturgy are a triumphant red and not the violet which has prevailed during the other days of Lent. For the reading from the Gospel in this first part recalls the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem as King. He gets a rapturous reception from the crowd who acclaim him with words we still use in the “Holy, holy, holy…” of the preface to the Eucharistic Prayer. This scene is important for, in a few days’ time, the same triumphant Jesus will be reduced to a battered wreck of humanity, calling forth the words of Pilate: “Look, it is a human being!” (Ecce homo!)
As we process through our church, with our palms (or their equivalent) in our hands, we too sing with enthusiasm: “Christ conquers, Christ is king, Christ is our ruler” (Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat). There is a difference in our case for we know the end of the story and what is to come. Because of that, we sing with even greater conviction about the greatness of Jesus and a realization of just why he is our King.
But even here there is shadow. For not all are spreading their clothes on the ground for Jesus to walk over or waving their branches. His enemies are watching and what they see only gives greater urgency to their desire to see the end of Jesus. In one way, they will succeed with a frightening ruthlessness to destroy Jesus but, of course, they will also fail utterly. Our presence here today is proof enough of that.
The mind of Christ
In a way the real key to Holy Week is given in today’s Second Reading, which seems to be a hymn, incorporated by Paul in his letter to the Christians at Philippi, in northern Greece. It expresses the “mind,” the thinking of Jesus, a “mind” which Paul urges us to have also if we want to identify fully with Jesus as disciples. “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” The key word in the passage is “emptied.” This kenosis, or emptying, is at the heart of Jesus’ experience during his Passion.
In spite of Jesus’ identity with the nature of God, he did not insist on his status. He first of all took on himself in the fullest sense our human nature – “like us in all things, but sin”. But, even more, he reached down to the lowest level, the lowest class of human beings – the servant, the slave. That was still not the end. He let go of all human dignity, all human rights, let go of life itself to die, not any “respectable” form of death, but the death of a convicted criminal in shame and nakedness and total abandonment.
To understand the sufferings, death and resurrection of Jesus one must fully grasp what Paul is saying here and, not only grasp it, but totally appropriate it into one’s own thinking so that one would be prepared, with God’s help, to go exactly the same way. Our normal sensitivities even over trifling hurts just show us how far we have to go to have the “mind of Jesus.”
We are now – hopefully – prepared for listening to Luke’s version of the Passion of Jesus, up to but excluding the climax of resurrection.
So much to reflect on
Although efforts are now made to make the listening of the Passion less of an endurance test, there really is too much to be fully digested as we stand listening to one or three readers. Perhaps we should set aside a short period later in the day to go through the dramatic telling more at our leisure. Or perhaps we could focus on a particular passage which speaks to us more at this time.
There is:
--the last meal of Jesus with his disciples, a bitter-sweet experience for all
--Jesus’ struggle with fear (even terror) and loneliness in the garden, ending in a sense of peace and acceptance
– Peter’s denial of ever having known Jesus, the same Jesus with whom he had just eaten and who had invited him into the garden
– the kiss of Judas, another disciple, sealing the fate of Jesus, and leading to bitter remorse and suicide
– the rigged trial before the religious leaders and again before the contemptuous, cynical Pilate, the brief appearance before the superstitious and fearful Herod
– the torture, humiliation and degradation of Jesus
– the way of Calvary – the weeping women, the reluctant Simon of Cyrene
– the crowds, so supportive on Sunday, who now laugh and mock
– the murderous gangster promised eternal happiness that very day
– the last words of forgiveness and total surrender (emptying) to the Father.
The drama is truly overpowering and needs really to be absorbed one incident at a time. It would be worth reflecting in which of these scenes I can see myself, with which characters I can identify as reacting in the way I probably would.
Jesus – the focal point
Through it all there is Jesus. His enemies humiliate him, strike him, scourge him. Soldiers make a crown with thorns, a crown for the “King of the Jews” (an element of contemptuous racism here?), Herod mocks him. Pilate, Roman-trained, makes a half-hearted attempt at justice but fear for his career prevails.
Jesus, for his part, does not strike back, he does not scold, he does not accuse or blame. He begs his Father to forgive those who “do not know what they are doing.” Jesus seems to be the victim but all through he is, in fact, the master. He is master of the situation because he is master of himself.
So, as we go through this day and this week, let us look very carefully at Jesus our Saviour. We watch, not just to admire, but also to learn, to penetrate the mind, the thinking, the attitudes and the values of Jesus so that we, in the very different circumstances of our own lives, may walk in his footsteps.
If we are to be his disciples, he invites us to walk his way, to share his sufferings, to imitate his attitudes, to “empty” ourselves, to live in service of others – in short, to love others as he loves us. This is not at all a call to a life of pain and misery. Quite the contrary, it is an invitation to a life of deep freedom, peace and happiness. If it were anything else, it would not be worth considering.
COMMENTARY ON PALM SUNDAY FROM WORKING PREACHER
The Gospels’ passion narratives press us to consider multiple realities regarding Jesus’ prosecution and death
We see the politics of human society. On one level, it’s an all-too-familiar story. Powerful and privileged people conspire with Roman officials to engineer the destruction of someone whose message and popularity pose a serious threat to the business-as-usual abuses perpetuated by religious and imperial systems.
We see God behind the scenes. On another level, it’s a story of cosmic significance. Having relinquished himself to his Father’s will (Luke 22:42), Jesus embraces a fate that mysteriously aligns–somehow–with a divine design (Luke 22:37; 24:25-27; Acts 4:24-28). Luke’s Gospel declares that Satan also plays a role (Luke: 22:3, 53).
We see reflections on human responsibility. There are marked differences across the accounts of Jesus’ trial that we find in the four Gospels. These differences draw attention to the questions of “how?” and “why?” that the post-Easter church asked. Anonymous Jewish “crowds” and “people” play roles in Jesus’ rejection. In this way, the evangelists attribute theological significance by assigning blame more widely (see Acts 2:22-23; 13:27-28). At the same time, historical analyses of these scenes convincingly conclude that Jesus’ movement from Gethsemane to Golgotha would have involved a speedy, clandestine process carried out at the highest levels of Judean sociopolitical power. Common folk probably had very limited involvement, if any.
These three currents flow as a single stream. The Gospels and Acts show no interest in trying to parse the relationship between divine will and human activity, at least not with the precision that would satisfy our philosophical questions. The mixture of realities proclaims that Jesus’ execution was the result of willful opposition and tragic ignorance, and yet this ugly death was somehow totally understandable and even purposeful.
(This seems as good a place as any to mention that I’ve just published a book–titled The Trial Narratives: Conflict, Power, and Identity in the New Testament–which explores Jesus’ trial in the Gospels and the trials of Peter, Paul, and others in Acts. What I have to say here about Luke’s passion narrative is developed in greater detail in chapter 5 of the book.)
The Passion in Luke: A Contest of Wills
Luke’s passion narrative frustrates many interpreters. The crucifixion lacks the raw agony of Mark’s and Matthew’s versions, and there isn’t the clearly scripted theological emphasis like John’s. Elements of the Lukan trial scenes are bewildering, for it isn’t clear what motivates Pilate, Herod Antipas, and “the people” (whom Pilate summons for the first time in 23:13) to act as they do.
In many ways, it’s a story about whose “will” or intentions will hold sway, and how.
It’s a story that insists that, at the end, God’s will is accomplished. Moreover, this will is accomplished by manipulating other powers and the structures of human society. No matter how corrupt or bent on self-preservation those forces are, God’s will nevertheless perseveres.
Luke 22:14-46. Jesus prepares his followers and Luke’s readers by speaking knowingly and confidently of what is to befall him. Submission, warning, and reassurance are dominant themes.
Luke 22:47-71. The priestly aristocracy of Jerusalem finally have their “hour” (see 22:52-53), and Peter is overcome. The temple-based authorities railroad Jesus toward execution. His words to them indicate that dialogue or persuasion is pointless in the face of their calculated intentions.
Luke 23:1-12. Roman authorities refuse to allow the Jerusalem aristocracy to presume upon Roman muscle to secure their desired outcome. Pilate and Herod mock Jesus, the notion of Jewish kingship, and the priestly prosecutors who breathlessly pursue their case. Roman power plays a game to discredit and humiliate the whole lot of them.
Luke 23:13-25. In a shocking scene, Pilate overplays his hand. He assembles residents of Jerusalem along with the aristocracy, presumably to embarrass the latter in the eyes of the former. But as soon as he broaches the idea of releasing Jesus, “the people” resist. They restart the trial by clamoring for Barabbas, a man with perhaps a more impressive track record of pursuing social change. Suddenly the emperor’s representative can no longer control the scene. Luke depicts a showdown between what Pilate wants (see thelō in 23:20) and the will of the temple authorities and people (see thelēma in 23:25). In the background, readers remember Jesus’ prayer about his Father’s will being accomplished (see thelēma in 22:42).
Luke 23:26-56. As soon as the crucifixion begins, Luke begins to mitigate the role of “the people” by distinguishing them from their priestly leaders. Many of “the people” lament in 23:27. “The people” watch Jesus die while “the leaders” scoff (23:35; compare 23:48). Later, in 24:20, Jesus’ followers blame only their “chief priests and leaders.” As for Jesus, he continues to do what he came to do: accomplish salvation. Witness the criminal who turns to him in their final hours.
Luke offers a political drama in which truth and justice are overwhelmed by the will of those who reject Jesus and by the will of a governor bent on exploiting Jesus for political gain.
But Pilate cannot fully control the venue that he is supposedly empowered to control. When the story is done, neither the imperial machinery nor the temple establishment are the agents who ultimately manage (or thwart) justice, at least not in Jesus’ case. Nor, really, are the strangely fickle “people.”
And so, Luke also offers a theological drama in which God’s will accomplishes itself through the course of human misperception and political maneuvering. In the strange coexistence of these two dramas, Luke declares that God’s salvation actualizes itself even within the apparatuses of opposition.
The Passion Narrative, God’s Will, and Preaching
Although it is the heart of the Christian story, the passion narrative is not the totality of that story. Luke’s account of Jesus’ demise compels preachers to consider the passion in light of God’s wide-ranging design for the world’s salvation.
For Luke, the passion is the pinnacle of the inevitable rejection of God’s specially anointed prophet. It is also the route that this Messiah must take toward his eventual glorification.
Jesus’ rejection is messy. The participants exhibit behavior that is both familiar and improbable, highlighting the misperception and fear behind it.
By asserting that God accomplished God’s design through Jesus’ passion, even through the messy power struggles waged among those human beings who brought about Jesus’ death, Luke hardly fixes everything or makes the passion palatable.
These assertions raise difficult questions about God and God’s ways–questions that must drive us, with preachers’ help, to accept mystery. Then we can render praise in response to the clearer statement that God’s saving will is done.
These assertions characterize the world as resistant to God and God’s ways. This leads to calls for repentance (see Acts 2:36-39; 3:17-19).
They rightly give comfort to people who are beaten down by such power struggles on a regular basis, promising them that Jesus’ death and resurrection will one day mean the end to such oppression.
They warn people who presume that they can find security from God in their institutions and in the trappings of power. They likewise warn those who think that they can create their own social and institutional systems that will align with God’s purposes.
God cares too much about the work of saving the world to leave it in our hands. Salvation required God’s incursion into all aspects of our existence. It still does.
By Matt Skinner