Text for Prayer: Spiritual Exercises no. 230-237

Reflection:

“Love ought to show itself more in deeds than in words.”
-St. Ignatius Loyola, Spiritual Exercises #230

Sin and grace are rooted in the contrary attitudes of selfishness and love, reflecting the fundamental models of Satan and God that the Spiritual Exercises invites us to choose between. This is particularly clear in the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God (or “contemplatio” for short) that concludes the retreat.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (#1849) defines sin as the “failure in genuine love for God and neighbor caused by a perverse attachment to certain goods.” Sin “turns our hearts away” (#1850) from God’s love. Ignoring the two Great Commandments of Jesus, we hurt others on purpose (damaging our relationships with God, ourselves, and others) because of our inordinate desires for money, sex, and power.

In a letter to a Portuguese Jesuit dated 18 March 1542, St. Ignatius Loyola declared that “the most abominable of sins” is ingratitude, the habitual refusal to acknowledge the gifts God has given us. Ingratitude arises from selfishness, the unspoken attitude that I can do whatever I feel like doing without worrying how my actions affect others. Because I have to be happy and express myself, I don’t stop to think who I make unhappy in order to do it, but simply act on my urges. By living only for myself, I gradually allow my sins to become habitual and thoughtless vices. The Evil Spirit tempts me not to care who I make poor in order to be rich and not to worry about who I disrespect in order to be respected.

Once I gain riches and honors, the Evil Spirit tempts me to pride, the sin of thinking I am better than others since I am more fortunate than them. Once we are hardened in this selfish idea that we are entitled to more than others, we find it easy and natural to shut our hearts to God’s love, disrespecting others. But God is not mocked. We suffer punishment for our sins in this lifetime (and not just in the afterlife) because of the pain and misery that results from billions of people selfishly hurting each other on purpose. God does not cause our suffering; we alone cause it. God allows us (free will) to hurt each other, but only in the hope that our painful experience of evil will be a grace that drives us to reject sin and embrace love.

By contrast, grace is “favor, the free and undeserved help that God gives us” (#1996) to move from selfishness to selflessness in our lifelong path to holiness. Sanctifying and actual grace are both rooted in the self-giving love of Christ’s sacrifice. We cooperate with grace by embracing his cross, giving ourselves to others just as he gives himself to us. Perfect love forgets itself and wills the good of the other. It is not rooted in fear of hell or desire of heaven, as good as those things are, but in our selfless desire for the good of others.

God’s love is free and unmerited. The “contemplatio” of the Exercises invites us to appreciate this fact through reflecting on the many gifts God has given us, inviting us to a state of grateful attentiveness to God’s love, a wordless and unthinking contemplation that consists of total absorption in God’s loving presence. If we can accept on a deeply-felt level that God loves us unconditionally, we will feel moved to freely love others as God loves us. When all is said and done, love is both the beginning and the end of our relationship with God.

Questions: Do I see myself and the world through the eyes of selfishness or of love? How does God shown his love for me? For what things am I most grateful?

Text for Prayer:  See below.

Reflection: During the Spiritual Exercises Ignatius wants the retreatant to contemplate and reflect upon a number of different appearances of the Risen Lord to his friends and disciples.  Over a period of forty days Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene (Mark 16:1-11), to Peter (Luke 24:9-12, 33-34,; John 20:1-10), to the Emmaus disciples (Luke 24:13-35), to the apostles (John 20:19-23), to Thomas (John 23:24-29), on the shore of Gennesaret (John 21:1-17), on the mountain of Galilee (Matthew 28:16-20), to more than five hundred Christians at once (1 Corinthians 15:6), and right before he ascends into heaven (Acts 1:1-12).

Ignatius makes two important observations regarding the Resurrection.  First, during the Passion the divinity of the Lord seems to be hidden by the cruelty and violence that his humanity suffers.  The brutality and gruesomeness are so grave that even his disciples, who had witnessed the Transfiguration only a few weeks before, flee in terror.  Yet now, after his Resurrection, Christ’s divinity shines through his humanity, manifesting itself in most glorious manner.  Not even the finality of death could veil the divinity of Christ!  His Resurrection opens the floodgates of grace, mercy, and love that had been waiting for us ever since our first parents gravely sinned in Eden.  At every encounter with the risen Christ, the disciples are overwhelmed with joy, awe, and happiness.

In Gerard Manley Hopkins’s English rendition of O Deus Ego Amo Te (a Latin prayer-poem attributed to St. Francis Xavier) he writes:

Thou, thou, my Jesus, after me
Didst reach thine arms out dying,
For my sake sufferedst nails, and lance,
Mocked and marred countenance,
Sorrows passing number,
Sweat and care and cumber,
Yea and death, and this for me,
And thou couldst see me sinning:
Then I, why should not I love thee,
Jesu, so much in love with me?

On the cross Jesus suffered for me, for my sake.  He was beaten almost beyond recognition, scorned, and mocked.  He took on the sins of our race and endured the most brutal of tortures.  And all this in hopes that we would turn to the Lord once more, and lose ourselves in Him.  Why would he do this when he knew that we would probably continue to sin?  Because he knew that his grace was enough to overcome even the gravest of problems and sin—that sharing a life with his Father would mean conquering all the crosses in our life once and for all.  Hopkins wonders why we should love Jesus, who is so much in love with us.  This brings us to Ignatius second point about the Resurrection.

Ignatius wants us to consider how Christ reveals himself after his Resurrection.  He doesn’t appear to those that crucified him in order to bring them low and show them how wrong they were.  He doesn’t appear to Pilate to answer his question, “What is truth?”  He appears to those who loved him most—to his friends.  Ignatius wants us to see how Christ appears to those who need consolation: Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted.  Indeed, here in the Resurrection the Beatitudes are fulfilled. Christ appears as the One who consoles, who offers friendship and forgiveness instead of divine wrath and condemnation.  He speaks with his disciples as friends speak with one another: with familiarity and affection.  His friendship is redemptive—it saves us from ourselves and from the reality of sin.

Hopkins ends his rendition of St. Francis Xavier’s prayer-poem with the following lines:

Then I, why should not I love thee,
Jesu, so much in love with me?
Not for heaven’s sake;
not to be out of hell by loving thee;
Not for any gains I see;
But just the way that thou didst me
I do love and I will love thee:
What must I love thee, Lord, for then?
For being my king and God. Amen.

What is our response to so great a love?  What should we love God for?  Simply because he is our King and God.  There is no other, no matter how many things we turn into kings and gods.  Nothing can compare to the love the Lord has for us, nor can anything separate us from that love (Romans 8).  He proved it to us so many years ago on Calvary, and proves it daily to us now.  What will it take for me to believe in that love, to trust that love, to be friends with the One who loved me first?

Questions: What kinds of emotions arise when I think about how Jesus consoles his friends as their friend?  What is the reality of friendship in my life?  How can I make the words of St. Francis Xavier my own?   What gives me hope to continue to walk in the light of Christ despite my own limitations and imperfections?

Text: Spiritual Exercises #218-225; #299

Reflection: We now come to the Fourth Week of the Spiritual Exercises and shift our focus to the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus Christ our Lord. In this week our goal is to arrive at an intense and lasting joy and gladness characteristic of true consolation.

The basic dynamic of the Spiritual Exercises is that in the First Week we take a brutally honest look at sin and this humbles us. From this point forward we recognize that it is foolish to try set up any rival good to God. We see clearly that if we try to live by our own lights rather than God’s will, we are bound to failure. Therefore, we look to Christ in order that we might imitate Him and model our lives after His: this is the only way out of the abyss. Then, in the Third Week of the Exercises, we try to accompany Christ in His suffering, staying near Him as long as we can bear.

Without a doubt the First and Third Weeks of the Exercises can be (and should be) difficult. They push us to the brink, humiliate us, and teach us patience. But the upshot of the toil of the First and Third Weeks is that it makes the deep and lasting joy of the Fourth Week possible. This is analogously true in the life of Christ as well. We are able to celebrate so many feasts of victory after the Resurrection because prior to the Resurrection Jesus drank the cup of our human suffering to the dregs, even going so far as to descend into Hell, the place of utter desolation and separation from God. We should be heartened by this because it means that our sufferings are never for naught but always expand our capacity for truly Christian joy. Moreover, we should recognize that if we have made these Spiritual Exercises well, we are prepared for a deeper joy than we were capable of before.

As we begin this part of the journey, St. Ignatius recommends that we turn our thoughts first to the Virgin Mary and to Christ’s appearance to His Mother. This is appropriate because no one walked with Jesus farther in His suffering than Mary. Indeed, we might ask if the Passion did not begin for her long before Jesus’ agony in the garden. Certainly she suffered on His behalf and handed Him over completely to God from the very beginning. Now, after the series of public rejections and the long time of keeping Mary at a distance, Jesus finally comes to her in the role of consoler.

As we meditate on this beautiful mystery, St. Ignatius recommends that we compose in our imaginations the home of the Blessed Virgin Mary and see her bedroom and even her oratory (he has in mind a chapel-like space for prayer). Here, it might be useful to keep in mind that, according to Gospel of John, following the crucifixion, Mary was received into the house of the Beloved Disciple. There is strong evidence to suggest that the Beloved Disciple was a man of some means and had been able to provide the upper room for the Last Supper. Thus, you may find it fruitful to imagine that he had a room ready and furnished where he could receive the Virgin Mary from the moment Christ said to him, “Behold your mother!” (Jn. 19:27). What would it be like to think of yourself as the Beloved Disciple and to think of your heart as the space made ready for receiving the Virgin Mary? What if you were to imagine the first meeting between Mary and Jesus as taking place in this prepared “space” in your heart?

However you chose to imagine the encounter between Mary and Jesus, remember the advice given by St. Ignatius in previous meditations and follow this same pattern: (1) visualize the risen Christ appearing to the Virgin Mary (2) listen to what Jesus and Mary say to each other and (3) observe what Jesus and Mary are doing. With each step reflect within yourself and try to draw some spiritual profit from what you see, hear, or observe.

Text for Prayer: John: 19: 1-5

Reflection: The image of the scourged Christ is often associated with Holy Week and the Passion. Such an image usually portrays Christ, bare from the waist up, a red cloak draped over his shoulders. On his head is a crown of thorns and emanating from the crown streams of blood run down the sides of his face. His torso is also covered with blood, the scars of the beating by the Roman soldiers. His mien reflects sadness, pain, and anguish, all at the same time.

The image of the scourged Christ depicts Christ after his questioning by Pontius Pilate and immediately before his sentencing to death. The Gospel of John recounts how Pilate asked Jesus whether or not he was a king and what is truth, Pilate asked the crowd if it wanted Jesus or Barabbas, a revolutionary, released to them. When the crowd asked for Barabbas, Pilate had Jesus scourged, thinking that this punishment would satisfy the crowd and keep it from rioting. He then brought Jesus out the people proclaiming “Behold the man!” or in Latin, “Ecce Homo!” As we know, the crowd kept clamoring for Barabbas and demanded that Jesus be crucified, so that Pilate acquiesced, and sentenced Jesus to death.

When we meditate on the Passion of Christ, we often like to focus on the Way of the Cross or the Crucifixion. This small scene in John, however, should not be dismissed as insignificant. The previous pope, Benedict, in his volume on Holy Week in the three volume work Jesus of Nazareth, reflects on how the Ecce Homo “takes on a depth of meaning that reaches far beyond this moment in history.” It is in Jesus that man himself is manifested and his suffering “mirrors the inhumanity of worldly power, which so ruthlessly crushes the powerless. In him is reflected what we call ‘sin’: this is what happens when man turns his back upon God and takes control over the world into his own hands.” Yet, still in this image of the scourged Christ who is about to be led to his death, we see that his “innermost dignity cannot be taken from him” and that “the hidden God remains present in him.”

It is rather telling that John places the scene after Jesus has told Pilate that he has come to “testify to the truth” (John 18:37) and Pilate asks him “What is truth?” (John 18:38) It is almost as if John is trying to tell us that to turn away from the truth, from Christ, we are confronted with sin, violence, and death. The worst is brought out in us when we turn away from what is good and true. Our human condition is marked by sin and in the figure of the scourged Christ we see ourselves as we really are unless we allow God to redeem us in love and break through the mess that we create with our many sins.

The Exercises begin with a serious examination of sin and its effect in our lives and the world. One last time, before we head to the Cross and experience the joy of the resurrection, we are given the opportunity to reflect on sin and its effects when we stop to contemplate at Jesus’ trial before Pilate. Jesus does not undergo the torture that he does to only show us that he loves us but also to redeem us from sin and death, to draw us closer to him and the truth.

Questions: Where is it that turning away from Christ and the truth lead to pain and suffering in my own life? Where might this turning away from Christ and truth lead to violence and death in the world today? How is it that the love of Christ and the message of the Gospel propose to break through in these situations and lead me and humanity back to Christ?

Text for Prayer: John 18:12-40

Reflection: What do we hope will vindicate us? When all is said and done, what do we wish to be the justification for our thoughts, words, deeds, and omissions? One often hears people use phrases like “we will be vindicated by history,” meaning that hindsight will show either that they did the pragmatic (though not always honest) thing, or that their behavior will be vindicated by opinions fashionable at some future point. Jesus encounters these ways of thinking and others at His trial, but refuses to be vindicated by anyone or anything beyond Himself.

First, we see Jesus go before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin. Before Jesus is even arrested, Caiaphas advocates His death by stating that “it is better for one man to die for the people, than for the whole nation to be destroyed” (Jn. 11:50). Caiaphas’ primary preoccupation is not whether Jesus’ claim is true or not, but whether Israel will be destroyed. In the second part of Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict observes that

there were certain circles within the Sanhedrin that would have favored the liberation of Israel through political and military means. But the way in which Jesus presented His claim seemed to them clearly unsuited to the effective advancement of their cause.

This fact is only underscored by two chants, juxtaposed against one another. On the one hand is the statement “we have no king but Caesar.”  On the other hand is the demand “free Barabbas!” Those who are present claim to call for the crucifixion of Jesus because of the threat He poses to Rome’s power, while at the same time demanding the release of a revolutionary who has himself fought against Rome. There is no coherence to the demands. Anything to advance the cause will be sufficient.

Following the condemnation of Caiaphas, Jesus goes before Pilate. As procurator, Pilate commands the Roman army, the driving force behind the Pax Romana—the Roman Peace. Pope Francis has said that “there is no peace without truth,” but Pilate shows little concern for truth. His concern is the opinion of the crowd. When Jesus says that he has come “to bear witness to the truth,” Pilate dismissively asks “what is truth?” (Jn. 18: 37-38) Outwardly, Pilate must try and seek justice, but in reality he wants the same thing as the Sanhedrin: to preserve the status quo. So long as the crowds don’t revolt and Rome’s position is secure, truth is irrelevant.

Were this scene to be played out today, little would change. There are still individuals who are willing to sacrifice one person for many because it is the pragmatic decision. There are still individuals who allow truth to take a backseat to personal interests and fashionable opinions. This is the easy way. Truth is something we conform ourselves to. Expediency and fashion, however, are things that we can dictate. We fall into the temptation that led to Original Sin: “you will be like gods” (Gn. 3:5). We take the course of action where we call the shots, rather than being obedient to anyone else.

All of this, Jesus takes on. He takes it on so that it may die with Him on the cross. He takes it on so that we may be healed. Every sort of human evil—pride, arrogance, malice, tepidity—is encountered by Jesus and taken on. As we look at the behavior of those who judge Jesus and ultimately crucify Him, hopefully we can recognize ourselves in them. Because if we can, we can see clearly Jesus encountering our sins and failings, and taking them on as He walks to Calvary.

Questions: How do I put my gifts at the service of pragmatism and opportunism, rather than truth? How do I judge Jesus? How has Jesus taken on my judgments?

Text for Prayer: John 18:1-27

Reflection: In these scenes we see the betrayal of Jesus by two of his apostles: Judas who betrays him for money and Peter who denies him for fear of his own life. Judas appears two times in the Gospel of John before the Last Supper. On both occasions (John 6:70-71 & John 12:4) he breaks the general atmosphere of celebration, of community, of solemnity, and sacredness that Jesus had created. On the first occasion John makes sure to show how Judas is a victim to the will of the evil spirit. On the second occasion, when Judas protests the use of expensive perfume to anoint Jesus, John uses the word “pure” to describe the perfume. In Greek this word for “pure” could also be used to express fidelity and authenticity. Perhaps St. John’s use of the word is an invitation to reflect upon Judas’ desire to sell his own fidelity and authenticity, and that divided reality we experience in our own hearts when we sell our identity for much less.

The mystery of evil in Judas as told by St. John is present in more than just the man who betrayed our Lord. It will always be a symbol of a more profound and ancient rupture, at first glance an impassable fissure that even communion with God seemingly cannot mend. The Evangelist perceives that even among Jesus’ closest friends the spirit of evil, of division, and of hate works its way into the communion of the group. For Judas the reality of this evil is too much to bear, the fissure to deep to overcome, and he loses hope. How could he have known that what Jesus was going to undergo and endure would end with his glorious resurrection? Perhaps if Judas only believed in Christ’s words and deeds would things have gone differently?

In Peter’s circumstance, evil takes on a different face. Not the face of division and betrayal, but of complete denial. When confronted Peter buckles. At the Garden he was able to fight with his blade–and now? What has changed? Where is the brazen and brash fisherman from Galilee? Why is he now too terrified to fight? His denial is rooted in his unbelief. When things were going well it was easy to believe that Jesus did have “the words of everlasting life.” But now when everything has gone south belief is the first thing to go. Peter clings to his life with everything he has–even if it means betraying his best friend, the man who has changed his life forever.

Peter’s ultimate reaction, however, is one that still holds on to hope despite unbelief. He weeps bitterly for he knows that what he has done resounds far more loudly than every single word of bravado he spoke to Jesus over the course of their friendship. But Peter hopes against hope and does not despair. The “light of the world” has not been overcome by the darkness in Peter’s heart. Jesus, Peter wants to believe, still has more to reveal about himself.

How many times have we betrayed or denied Jesus because he did not do as we thought or planned? Both Judas and Peter would have preferred armed conflict as a path towards liberation. Yet their Master chooses a different path: a path that more perfectly reveals who he is–not a raging lion on the prowl, but a lamb led to the slaughter.

Questions: What kinds of emotions arise when I think about how Judas and Peter respond to evil in their hearts? What is the reality of the spirit of untruth and division in my own heart, soul, relationships, and spiritual life? How often do I tell Jesus how I want to be saved, or how he should save the world, instead of listening and learning from him? What gives me hope to continue to walk in the light of Christ despite my own limitations and imperfections?

Text for Prayer: Luke 22:39-46

Reflection: The Garden of Gethsemane is located at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Its name comes from the Hebrew word for ‘oil press’. It was in that garden that the events  of Good Friday suddenly overtook Jesus. As Pope John XIII said in one of his homilies about the meaning of the cross, the most horrible ‘pressing upon’ experience Jesus had was bearing the heavy weight of all human sin.

Through his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the eve of his passion, Jesus expressed three aspects of response to the events that would follow. First, he conveyed his sadness and agony. He expressed with the Psalmist, “My soul is very sorrowful” (Ps 43). He felt a deep loneliness.  After he had invited three of the apostles to stay with him, watch and pray, they fell asleep and he began to feel the burden of his loneliness. His expression of sorrow and loneliness is echoed on the cross as Jesus prays, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”(Ps 22; Mk 15:34).

Second, Jesus offered himself, as he stated during the Last Supper, as a victim for the expiation of our sin. He is both the priest and victim. He is the Paschal lamb and the unblemished victim for our redemption.

Third, Jesus expressed his total adherence to the will of God. He conveyed complete entrustment and obedience to God. Although he was afraid of the suffering, the torture and bloody death, he offered himself in a free and voluntary act of obedience to the Father’s salvific will to accomplish the work of redemption.  He ended his prayer saying, Abba, Father, all things are possible to you; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mk 14:36).

As we contemplate the Paschal mystery, this Holy Week, we are invited to reflect on the central events of our redemption and to ponder their meaning in our lives. We contemplate the Passion and Death of our Lord and reflect on the meaning of suffering, loneliness, sin and other burdens in our lives. We do so always having in mind that both the Cross and Resurrection are intrinsic to our Christian vocation. As we enter that reflection, we are called into a deeper relationship with God. This relationship is experienced through prayer –growing in heartfelt intimacy with the Lord – and in our love and service of our sisters and brothers.

Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane teaches us to bring our reservations, fears, sadness and loneliness to the Lord. In our relationship with Jesus, our sorrows and suffering acquire new meaning, and our joys and consolations shine brighter in the light of Jesus’ love for us. We learn to make of our lives gifts to God and to those who live around us. Last but not least, we learn to surrender ourselves to the Lord completely – learn to say “not my will, but yours be done.” And we learn to do it joyfully.

As we imitate Jesus, specially in his struggle in Gethsamane, we learn to surrender all that we are and we have to embrace God’s will and give ourselves to the building of God’s Kingdom.

Questions: When have I felt ‘pressed upon’ by the weight of my fears, loneliness, reservation and sin? How has the Lord called me to surrender it all? How do I feel about telling God, “not my will, but yours be done”?

Text for Prayer: Jn 13

Reflection: In Jn 13, Jesus washes his apostles’ feet at the Last Supper, giving them the “mandatum” or great commandment to go and do likewise. “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do,” Jesus tells them (Jn 13:15). Today in Rome, Pope Francis is scheduled to celebrate Holy Thursday at a juvenile prison, washing the feet of 12 inmates to symbolize this loving gesture of Christ.

Some might take offense at the pope’s choice of inmates for this rite, but we will do well to recall that Jesus himself washed the feet of Judas in John’s gospel, knowing full well Judas would betray him.

Jesus’ action causes strife among the apostles, with Peter at first refusing to allow it, and Judas the traitor leaving early after Jesus declares that someone will betray him.

Meanwhile, the youngest apostle John leans his head against Jesus’ chest, hoping in vain to learn the identity of this traitor.

Only after Judas leaves does Jesus reveal fully his true message. “I give you a new commandment: Love one another,” he tells the 11 apostles, adding: “As I have loved you, so you also should love one another” (Jn 13:34).

Jesus then proceeds to give us the Eucharist, the sacramental food of his body and blood, as an offering of thanksgiving for God’s love.

As we draw to the end of Lent during this Holy Week, we might ask ourselves whether we are truly prepared to receive Christ in the Eucharist this Easter. We may wish to ponder whether we have truly shared God’s love with others. And we can perhaps take stock of our desire to serve God by serving others, thereby helping to bring about God’s kingdom here on earth.

Questions: For what am I most grateful right now?  Do I love others the way Jesus loves me? Which apostle resonates most with me in this story of the Last Supper in the cenacle?

Text for prayer: Luke 19:47-48; Luke 21:37-38

Reflection: We consider two points in this meditation. The first point is that between His entrance into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and His Last Supper, Jesus continues to labor on our behalf by preaching daily in the Temple. The second point is that, due to men’s neglect, there is no one to receive Him in Jerusalem, therefore He goes back to a place where He is loved and welcomed: Bethany.

Regarding the first point, let us note that this passage (Luke 19:47-48) is one of the many instances in the Gospel where the evangelists tell us that Jesus spoke to the crowds and instructed the people; however, the evangelists do not inform us what the specific words were or what lesson Jesus may have taught on these occasions. Instead it is left up to our prayerful imagination to discover what Christian message the Lord desired to convey to His hearers. This allows us to have a deep encounter with the Lord in our own prayer and to discover the lesson that the Lord desires to teach us today in the intimacy of the conversation we will have with Him in our heart through the mediation of the Holy Spirit. Whenever He taught the crowds, Jesus desired for His Word to be received with love in the heart of each person who listened and He desired for His Word to abide there. It is the same with us whenever we meditate on His preaching and think about the words he used on these occasions.

We can also note that those who come to hear Jesus represent the whole gamut of humanity, and each person is differently disposed to hear Jesus and to receive his words. As we contemplate the crowd that listens to the Lord, let us try to imagine their diversity. They range from children to old persons; from illiterate laborers to learned scribes and priests; from the merely curious to those who are hoping that Jesus is the Messiah. They are comprised of men and women from every walk of life, wearing all types of dress and featuring all sorts of colorful faces and expressions. Most importantly, within the crowd we find a full range of responses to Jesus’ teaching: from those who hang upon his every word and have the stirring of love within their breasts to those who are full of contempt for what the Lord says and would like to kill Him. Perhaps as we contemplate the group that listens to the Lord, we can ask God what disposition He wants us to have when we listen to His Word and teaching. Moreover, we can ponder, what was Jesus’ specific teaching to the crowd at this time? What did he want them to take away from it and what was their actual reaction?

The second point is that because He did not find anyone to receive him in Jerusalem, Jesus returned to Bethany (Spiritual Exercises #288) or the Mount of Olives (Lk. 21:37). During these Spiritual Exercises, we have contemplated the way that Jesus radically plunges into the depths of our humanity, taking on human flesh in order that He might redeem it. He makes Himself so little and suffers so much because he longs to find a home in our hearts. He longs to dwell there and to rule there as our King. Thus it should make us very sad to see that, despite his ongoing labor and continuous preaching of the Kingdom, men’s hearts remain cold and refuse to grant Him entrance. Jesus had said earlier in Luke’s Gospel that, “foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head” (Lk. 9:58). Here this statement holds true regarding men’s’ hearts. There is no place for Him in the hearts of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so he returns at night to Bethany.

But the name Bethany reminds us that Jesus’ Word does find a welcome in some hearts. We recall Jesus’ special love for the inhabitants of Bethany: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. These eagerly welcomed Jesus into their home and more importantly into the interior abode of their hearts. This is precisely why Jesus came down from Heaven and laid aside his infinite glory. The abode of our hearts is precious to Him, more precious even than the glory of Heaven, and therefore He knocks at the door of our heart and begs access. Will we allow Him entrance so that He might dwell there and transform our cold hearts into furnaces of charity, no longer repositories of self-love but hearts directed to praise and service?

Text for Prayer: Luke 19: 41-44

Reflection:

All glory, praise, and honor
To you, Redeemer, King!
To whom the lips of children
Made glad hossanas ring.

You are the King of Israel,
And David’s royal Son,
Who in the Lord’s Name comest,
The King and Blessed One…

The above hymn that will be played in many Churches on Palm Sunday helps set the tone as the Church enters into Holy Week and reminds us of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. It is not difficult to picture Jesus, his fame having spread throughout Judea, riding into the city on a donkey, greeted by the crowds who cry out “Hossana!” as they wave palm branches in their hands.

But the same hymn and the image of the scene cannot help but raise a few questions in our minds. What type of king enters a city riding on a donkey? Why are people so eager to greet Him, especially when a few days later they are no longer crying out “Hossana!” but rather “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” How and why do they have such a quick change of heart?

By the time that Jesus rides into Jerusalem He has already established that He wishes to be a different type of king, one who serves others and is not served. The fact that He would choose to arrive in a Jerusalem on a donkey speaks to that desire of His, and His desire for us is that we follow His example.

The change of heart experienced by the people of Jerusalem is a more complex question to answer. Luke’s account of the entry into Jerusalem, however, can perhaps help us to gain some insight. Luke mentions that Jesus wept over the city as he approached it and lamented “If you only knew what lay before you…” (Luke 19:42) Luke, catering to his audience, might be referencing the fall of Jerusalem in the year 70 when the city was destroyed by the Romans. But could it not be, rather, that Luke is reminding us that sometimes we may want to recognize God in places where he cannot truly be found? Could it be that we want to make God into something He cannot be, and rather than seeing Him as He is, we only see Him as we want to see Him?

The people of Jerusalem may have wanted a king, and in Jesus, they weren’t getting the king they expected. But we, too, can sometimes place ridiculous expectations on God. We can think that God exists merely to answer our prayers or make us feel good about ourselves. When our prayers aren’t answered in a way that we prefer or if the good feelings disappear, we turn away. Similar to the change of heart experienced by the people of Jerusalem our cries of “Hossanna!” quickly turn to “Crucify Him!” We can think that God is merely out to get us and judge us or that he places too many rules and regulations on our lives that we can’t keep. We can be tempted to want to have Easter Sunday without Good Friday.

Palm Sunday and the start of Holy Week is a call to conversion. It is a call to put aside all of those preconceived notions of what God should be like and simply allow ourselves to be with God, with his Son, Jesus, to follow Him “on the way” that Luke mentions throughout his Gospel and stand beneath the Cross. Only if we make this journey can we fully enjoy Easter Sunday.

Questions: Do I place expectations on God that He cannot fulfill? Do I have any preconceived notions of what God should be like for me and for others? Are these expectations compatible with who it is that Jesus says He is and how He calls us to follow Him? Can I place these expectations aside and allow myself to be with Jesus on his journey to the Cross and allow myself to be with Him at the foot of the Cross?