As we’ve just heard, everything is closing in on Jesus in human terms. From a human point of view, there is no way out. All seems lost. Herod and Pilate, hitherto enemies by virtue of their office, become friends. They band together against Jesus to condemn him. A veritable vise is closing in on him. His chosen apostles leave, leaving him alone to face the mystery of the evil he is facing. We have heard this before: whilst some of the people walk at his side and weep for him, Jesus invites them not to lament on him, but to on themselves. “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep for yourselves and for your children.” We are faced with the incomprehension, the sinfulness of men. Jesus encourages us to turn inward, not to withdraw, not to lock ourselves away in guilt but to meditate on the mystery of sin. Sin that can be overcome by his grace, the sin he saves us from.
We may then question outselves: what does this Passion triggers in us? Are we simply moved, or filled with pity? Or does it awaken something deeper, something that calls for inner change? This is what Jesus calls upon the daughters of Jerusalem to do. He doesn’t reject their compassion because he is suffering on the way to the cross. It is quite the contrary, in fact. He lets himself be approached by Veronica, who wipes his face dripping with sweat and blood. He lets himself be approached by Simon of Cyrene, who helps him carry his cross.
But there is more: like for Veronica or Simon, it is the Lord himself who comes to meet us. He comes to help us. He comes to change our hearts. Jesus shows us what all this evil arouses in him: forgiveness. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing”. This is such a strange attitude. Faced with the mystery of evil, Jesus doesn’t withdraw or close himself off. He continues to give himself to the very end. He goes beyond love, beyond giving. He gives his life. So let’s ask ourselves: am I open to Christ’s forgiveness? Does this forgiveness open my heart? And, consequently, does it trigger in me an openness towards my brothers and sisters?
Let’s take a very concrete example: the alms-giving we have tried to do during this Lent. Did we do it to fulfill a mere precept? As a rite, or an obligation, because “it’s part of the work of Lent”? Or has this alms-giving changed something in me? Has it opened me up to a genuine concern for others? To the misery they carry within them? How do I look at others? Do I just feel sorry for them? Or do my eyes and my heart, deep within, change? That’s what we have come to ask to the Lord on the threshold of this Holy Week: to be transformed.
Year after year, we relive Jesus’ Passion. We know the liturgical life, we know the life of Christ. For some of us, this is the seventieth or eightieth time these texts have sounded in their ears. And yet, there’s always something to be discovered, always a call to get back on track, so that we can move forward and access Christ’s forgiveness.
Let us ask the Lord to open our hearts to his forgiveness. May he open our eyes and our hearts to other people, so that we may love them as Christ has loved them. By going beyond mere human respect, as Christ himself went beyond the merely human gaze, where everything seemed lost.
Amen.
