The Passion of Jesus Christ

What we now call the Fifth Sunday of Lent was for many centuries called Passion Sunday, and then in 1960 this day in the calendar was renamed the First Sunday of the Passion while next week was called the Second Sunday of the Passion. But that change lasted only nine years, and in 1969 the liturgical calendar began to call today the Fifth Sunday of Lent while calling next week’s observance Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.

This odd exercise in liturgical name changing aside, the central point is that the final two weeks of Lent have a special emphasis. From today until the Vigil of Easter, the sacred liturgy directs us to the Passion of the Lord Jesus Christ, and so the final two weeks of Lent are called Passiontide. One sign of this focus is the presence of the purple shrouds on the crosses and statues in the sanctuary.

We usually think of passion as meaning love. To be passionate about either a person or a project is to be ardently devoted to them. But in Latin the root meaning of passion is not love; in Latin passio means suffering, so when we speak of the Passion of Christ, we speak literally of his suffering.

The transformation of the meaning of passion from suffering to love took place on the Cross. Christ suffered for us because he loves us, and in the burning love of Christ for every human person, suffering became redemptive rather than simply an evil thing to be endured because we have no other choice. Passion now means love only because Christ, while we were yet sinners, handed himself over to death for us, so much did he love us. This was the cost of the new covenant of which the Prophet Jeremiah speaks in our first lesson.

In the Gospel today, set on Palm Sunday, the Lord Jesus teaches a group of Greeks who have come to Jerusalem for Passover. These Gentiles seekers, although they are not Jews, are drawn to the Holy City for the great feast of Israel’s freedom. And by some means they have already heard about the rabbi from Nazareth, perhaps because Christ raised Lazarus from the dead just a few days before he and the Twelve entered Jerusalem for Passover. The Holy City was filled with chatter about Jesus of Nazareth and his signs. Many people were praising Christ, while still others were conspiring to murder both Jesus and Lazarus to prevent word of this miracle from spreading.

In any case, these Gentiles approached the Apostle Philip with a request: “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” Then John provides a curious detail. Philip took this request first to Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, and then Andrew and Philip together brought the message to Christ. (John 12:20-22)

This simple act of fellowship between two apostles confirms that coming to know the Lord Jesus and introducing him to others is never an individual enterprise. There are no solitary Christians, and so the communion of disciples in the Church is essential to all Christian faith and life.

The next time you hear someone say that they can worship God by themselves just as well as or even better than in church, please remind them of that. Worshipping God only by yourself very easily becomes just worshipping yourself, and that is idolatry. There are and can be no solitary Christians.

When the Gentile visitors were finally brought to the Lord Jesus, he spoke to them about the death of a grain of wheat, which when it has died in the earth, produces abundant fruit. And by this metaphor Christ spoke not only of his approaching death and Resurrection, but also of the pattern for all authentic discipleship.

He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. In other words, to follow Christ in the Way of the Cross requires of us a willingness to suffer out of love and in this way be joined to Christ’s redemptive suffering for the salvation of the world.

Finding life through death is, of course, a paradox, and there is no way to explain the profound truth contained in this teaching of Christ apart from the Cross which is the perfect paradox of victory from defeat. So, contrary to the wisdom of the world, self-seeking and self-aggrandizement never lead to fulfillment and happiness, while self-denial and self-sacrifice are the true path to happiness and holiness. And this paradoxical truth is described for us today in the second lesson from the magnificent Letter to the Hebrews.

We read that “In the days when Christ Jesus was in the flesh, he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.” (Hebrews 5:7-9)

The first thing to note is that the phrase “when he was made perfect” does not imply that the Lord Jesus suffered from any moral defects which needed correcting. This reference to Christ being made perfect is like grammatical perfection. The perfect tense speaks of an action already completed in the past, and Christ’s perfection came in the completion of his mission to suffer and die and rise from dead to redeem us from the grave. This is the one perfect sacrifice made once, for all people and for all time.

But Son though he was, his suffering was real. The Eternal Son of the Father remained divine even in the Incarnation, as the voice from heaven confirmed in today’s Gospel. But Jesus was also a man like us in all things but sin, and so his suffering was real. His humanity was neither an illusion nor a disguise. His tears  of grief for Lazarus were real. His horror at sin in the Garden of Gethsemane was real. His agony while being scourged for us was real. His humiliating and excruciating death on the Cross was real.

The words “when Christ Jesus was in the flesh” speak then of his human nature and the reality of the suffering he endured for our salvation. And then we hear that Christ learned obedience from what he suffered. By surrendering his life in service to God the Father’s eternal plan of salvation, Christ arrived at the hour of his suffering, the hour of his passion, the hour for which the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

In the Greek text, there is word play here between learning and suffering. “He learned” in Greek is emathen, while “he suffered” is epathen. Emathen, Epathen. Perhaps the closest we can come to this rhyme is the exercise aphorism: No Pain, No Gain. In other words, voluntary suffering out of love for and in union with Christ leads not to futility but to divine wisdom, unbounded freedom, and everlasting life.

So, if we want to share the divine life of God by our union of faith, hope, and love with Christ the Lord, then there is no path forward except the Way of the Cross. And that requires of us not simply notional assent to the truth of the Gospel. No, to follow Christ demands of us the cleaving of our entire lives - our bodies, minds, and souls - to the wood of the Cross. And that is entirely a work of God’s grace.

The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that when Christ was made perfect, when he had accomplished his mission, then he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. Please note, not for all who merely believe in him, but for all who obey him.

We are called by our Baptism not only to accept the truth of the Word of God but to surrender our entire lives in the obedience of faith to the Word made flesh, to Christ crucified and risen, who summons us to repent of our sins, to believe in the Gospel, and to join him in the Way of the Cross. Emathen, Epathen. No Pain, No Gain.

Friends, on this Fifth Sunday of Lent, we begin the final part of the Forty Days and our journey with Christ to Jerusalem. Now we enter Passiontide: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you, because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world!

This is the text of my homily for 17 March 2024, the Fifth Sunday of Lent.

Fr Jay Scott Newman