A Scriptural Reflection by Fr. Jim Sullivan on the Mass Readings for Sunday, March 29, Palm Sunday
Processional Gospel: Matthew 21:1-11
Isaiah 50:4-7
Psalm 22:8-9, 17-20, 23-24
Philippians 2:6-11
Matthew 26:14 – 27:66
Palm Sunday is the only Sunday when the Mass readings are focused on the Passion. This makes sense, of course, considering that the Passion of the Lord, that is Holy Thursday and Good Friday, is bookended by two Sundays, the second of which is Easter. It remains true, however, that Palm Sunday itself, as it is depicted in the Gospels, is not about the Lord’s Passion but about his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Palm Sunday is about praise and joy, not suffering.
All four Gospels devote numerous verses to the description of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem at the start of the last week of his life. Today’s passage from Matthew describes the donkey and its colt (vs. 7) — Jesus rides a donkey into the city as a symbol of peace. A military conqueror (the sort of messiah many of the people were looking for) would have ridden a stallion, perhaps; in any event a powerful horse, into the city.
Matthew describes the huge crowd and remarks that they were laying their cloaks on the road before Jesus, and cutting branches from the trees, and laying them on the road as well; all the while proclaiming glad hosannas and calling Jesus the Son of David (vss. 8-9). John gives us the detail that the branches were palm branches — palms, of course, being a very common tree in Israel — hence our appellation of the day. John suggests that the crowd waved the branches — this being a sign of reverence and welcome for a conquering hero (John 12:13).
Matthew ends his description with the observation that, as Jesus actually reaches the city gates and enters Jerusalem “the whole city was shaken,” with people pouring out into the streets to join the crowd, everyone calling Jesus a prophet (vss. 10-11). In Luke’s account the crowd proclaims Jesus a king (Luke 19:38).
That’s the processional Gospel. The other four readings this Sunday focus on the Passion. Isaiah 50 predicts that the Messiah will be gifted with “a well-trained tongue” (vs. 4) which we see Jesus employing in his curt answers to authority, in his silence, as he goes through the events of the Passion. Isaiah 50 also says of the Messiah that
“I gave my back to those who beat me; my cheeks to those who tore out my beard; my face I did not hide from insults and spitting. The Lord God is my help; therefore I am not disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame” (vss. 6-7).
Psalm 22 IS the crucifixion, as if experienced by the psalmist, hundreds of years before the fact. The images are graphic and visceral.
“Like water my life drains away…My heart has become like wax, it melts away within me…They have pierced my hands and my feet; I can count all my bones. They stare at me and gloat; they divide my garments among them; for my garments they cast lots” (vss. 15, 17-19).
Jesus quotes Psalm 22 from the cross. The psalm begins, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” There are a number of ways to understand Jesus’ quoting the first verse of Psalm 22 as he hung on the cross, but one of them it seems to me is that for Jesus, this was a catechetical moment. He wanted the crowd to realize that what they were witnessing was the precise fulfillment of Psalm 22.
That said, I do not want to discount the possibility that Jesus cried out as he did because he really did feel abandoned. Sin separates us from God and Jesus had at that moment taken on the weight of all the sins of humanity. There is power in the understanding that, if we should find ourselves feeling abandoned by God, Jesus knows the feeling. Jesus can accompany us through such a moment, having experienced it himself.
The passage from Philippians is high Christology in that it tells us flat-out that Jesus is God incarnate (vss. 2, 10-11). At the same time the passage reminds us of the true humanity of Jesus, who suffered death, “even death on a cross” (vs. 8).
Finally, of course, we have Matthew’s account of the Passion, spanning most of two chapters in his Gospel. Abiding by what is now with me a twenty-year custom, I refuse to try to preach on the Gospel descriptions of the Passion. They speak for themselves. There is, in my view, nothing anyone can add by way of interpretation, commentary or analysis that would do anything except distract. The Passion Narratives need no “help” in bringing us to an appreciation of just how much we are loved by God. From my first Palm Sunday as a brand new priest in Pleasanton I have announced at the end of the Passion account that we would simply have two or three minutes in silence, contemplating the love of God for us, as made manifest in the Passion of the Lord.
As I am writing here, though, not physically preaching, I will say this about Matthew’s narrative. He alone gives us the fascinating detail that on the day when all Jerusalem, it seemed, had turned on Jesus (just five days after his triumphal entry) one person, one woman, one pagan woman, acted in Jesus’ defense. This woman tried to save him. This woman was the most powerful woman in Israel at the time — she was the wife of the Roman Governor.
She has come down to us in tradition as Claudia, and in terms of Scripture, we know almost nothing about her, beyond Matthew 27:19. The Second Letter to Timothy mentions a female disciple named Claudia, and some scholars have equated her with Pilate’s wife, years later in her life. In this understanding, Claudia became an evangelist; a Gentile herself, she worked with Paul and others to bring the Gentiles to Christ. There is no way to corroborate this speculation.
But while Scripture reveals little about the wife of Pilate, we have abundant testimony to her moral rectitude, her courage, indeed, her outright faith, from the many, many ancient but non-Scriptural sources available to us. There is reason to believe that Claudia, at the least, was acquainted with the teachings of Jesus, that she may have known certain of his disciples. In particular that she may have known Joanna, the wife of King Herod’s chief steward, who would have had a place in the royal court. Joanna, of course, is a major disciple (see Luke 3 and 24).
I could go on for pages, but I do not want to lose the focus here. I only want to point out that Matthew’s account includes something extraordinary — that the wife of Pontius Pilate attempted to intervene on Jesus’ behalf. This high-born Roman woman, the most powerful woman in Israel, sought to defend and save Jesus, while the Jewish religious leaders sought his condemnation and execution.
The Eastern Orthodox canonized her many centuries ago. I will only say here that I am a fan of Claudia, the wife of Pontius Pilate.
My best wishes for a truly holy Holy Week.
Love,
Fr. Jim
I was born in Marysville, in the Sacramento Valley, to a large and faith-filled Catholic family. I was named for my priest uncle, and as a little boy wanted to be a priest. I outgrew that ambition and by the time I was headed for my freshman year at the University of California at Berkeley was planning on a career in law.
