A Homily for the First Sunday of the Passion

+ As we begin these two weeks of Passiontide the Church veils her images, taking away our customary comforts, in order that we might be all the more conscious of the realities into which her Sacred Liturgy plunges us—realities which are, as it were, increasingly unveiled before us day after day as we accompany the Lord to Jerusalem, to Gethsemane and to Calvary. If it is true that the Church’s liturgical books—in particular the missal and the breviary—are the Church’s primary prayer book and catechism, let us attend to them with even greater devotion in these days. Let them teach us anew in these austere days how to pray, indeed why we should pray.
 
Let us do more than this (for it is easy enough to study the contents of books and remain detached from the realities which they present). In the coming fortnight let us live the realities that the Sacred Liturgy makes present unto us anew in these privileged days. That is, of course, our primary vocation as monks—to immerse ourselves in the daily, the hourly, celebration of the Work of God for the glory of Almighty God and thereby to find the means of the conversion of our lives and to become the person whom, from all eternity, God has called us to be.
 
Not everyone is called to our vocation, and the God-given duties of other vocations mean that not everyone can be present each morning at matins (!). Nevertheless, no matter whether we be called to the vocation of marriage, to one of the many forms of consecrated life, to the service of the secular clergy or to single life in the world, in these poignant and privileged days of Passiontide we can—we must—make an effort to live the Sacred Liturgy with the Church each day, most especially during the Sacred Triduum, the final days of Holy Week: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
 
How? Optimally, by being present and by participating in the liturgical offices: we can do no better—especially during the Sacred Triduum. But on days when this is impossible, we cannot fail if, with the help of a missal and a breviary, we make some time to ponder and to pray the texts of the Mass or Office of the day privately, according to what is possible in the light of the responsibilities of our particular vocation. Somehow, each day, we should find the means of keeping our finger on the pulse of the Sacred Liturgy, as it were. For if we do this—be we a monk or nun or a lay man or woman—we shall indeed learn anew how to pray and why we must do so.
 
Of course, the Sacred Liturgy is a complex of rites, symbols and texts developed in the Church’s tradition and handed down to us from of old, and it can take time to become accustomed to the beauty of its riches. But let us take that time. For in so doing we shall indeed encounter Christ, Christ living and acting in and through the Liturgy of His Church, Christ offering Himself for us and to us, Christ calling us into the intimacy of his self-sacrificing love in which we too shall find life—life that cannot be extinguished by bodily death.
 
This is why we must immerse ourselves in the rites of these most holy days: not so that we can witness a performance or a spectacle, but so that we ourselves may have life—life which shall transform our daily existence here on earth and which shall find its fulfilment in the unending joy which we shall glimpse on Easter morning. This is why we have (or should have) made substantial efforts in prayer, fasting and self-denial in Lent: to prepare ourselves for these most sacred days. This is why we should make a good confession: to ensure that our souls are purified and more open to receive the graces that this privileged time offers. For Our Lord Jesus Christ offered Himself for us and He offers Himself to us: we must do our part in being open to receiving all that He wishes to give us.
 
Christ on the cross may well currently be veiled before our eyes, but He lives and acts in plain sight, as it were, in the Sacred Rites of His Church. Indeed, we need look no further than the Gospel of this Passion Sunday to find Him utter some of the most important words of the Holy Gospel—and as a wise mother, the Church addresses them to us this morning: Antequam Abraham fieret, ego sum. “Before Abraham was, I am.”
 
It is difficult for us to comprehend the depth of the outage and blasphemy that these words occasioned in those who, as the Gospel recounts, were disputing His identity with Him. But that is not our task. Our task is to contemplate the Truth they announce. Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of the Father, the Christ of God, the Saviour sent into the world to redeem us from sin and offer us life. Abraham was the greatest of Patriarchs, but before Abraham was, Jesus Christ is.
 
As the Sacred Liturgy takes by the hand on the road to Jerusalem, to Gethsemane and to Calvary in these holy days, let the plain content of these words confront and console us: Antequam Abraham fieret, ego sum. “Before Abraham was, I am.” As we go now unto the Altar of God let them induce in us that humility and gratitude that shall enable us to worship Him purely, in spirit and in truth. (cf. Jn 4:24) +