Through the cross, "it is finished".

Homily: Commemoration of our Lord’s Passion

Although it may seem obvious to many of you, I don’t think that it is a bad idea to take a step back today and to ask ourselves, “Why do we celebrate the Passion of our Lord?”  There is, of course, the obvious reason: that, as believers, we have an obligation to commemorate this event through which we have all been redeemed—that is, the event through which our sins find the possibility of forgiveness.  An obligation so that we “never forget” that it is in and through Jesus Christ and his self-sacrifice that the possibility of a life beyond the suffering of this world is made possible for us.  Just as, for us citizens of the United States, we can “never forget” the events of 9/11, or Pearl Harbor, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and thus we must commemorate them, Christians can “never forget” the events of Good Friday through our yearly commemoration.

Perhaps a less-obvious reason, but one particularly poignant this year, is that we often need a reminder that suffering, embraced and endured for a good end, is never meaningless.  This year, through no fault of our own, we have been ordered to make sacrifices and, thus, to suffer, for the good of others (and, ultimately, ourselves).  This should give us a sense of solidarity with Christ who, Isaiah prophesied, would be one who had done no wrong but who nonetheless suffered as if he was a great sinner.  This same one who, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews testified, learned obedience from what he suffered and was made perfect, so as to become the source of eternal salvation.  On the surface, Christ’s suffering appeared meaningless: a cruel abuse perpetuated by authorities who wrongly convicted him.  Christ knew the good end for which he was suffering, however, and so he could persevere and even find strength to endure it to the end.  Although it may seem that we are suffering unjustly these days, I pray that we can see the good end for which we are suffering—saving lives—and thus find strength in knowing that our suffering has value so as to persevere in it until the threat of this pandemic ends.

After these two more practical reasons, there is still another reason why we celebrate the Passion of our Lord.  This is to remind ourselves of the truth that Jesus proclaimed from the cross: “It is finished.”  Here’s what I mean: There is so much anxiety among the faithful—all of you and myself included—for being separated from the sacraments.  I’m grateful for this anxiety as it shows a great longing in you to be free of this world and so untied to God.  There’s an anxiety, in particular, to be able to confess our sins and receive absolution (and, again, I feel that anxiety with you!).  Because of this, we perhaps feel a particular anxiety and a desire to weep in sorrow for our sins before the cross: the instrument of torture on which our Savior suffered precisely because of our sins.  While such a desire is completely appropriate to this day, I don’t think that this weeping is what we are called to do today (at least, not exclusively).  Rather, I think that we are called to acknowledge and to celebrate that “It is finished” and, thus, to make deep acts of faith in the truth that we proclaim during the Stations of the Cross: that is, that “by his holy cross, he has redeemed the world”.  These acts should give us consolation that, while God has given us the sacraments as our surety of his grace, he, nonetheless, is not bound by them.  Rather, he is "bound" by the perfect obedience of his Son, which won redemption for all who, in turn, obey him.

Friends, the Passion of our Lord is presented to us in narrative form so as to remind us that God worked out our salvation in the thick of our human messiness, so as to remind us that it is not by making our lives some idyllic perfection of piety and devotion that we come to salvation (as good as that would be), but rather that it is by embracing the cross—that is, taking up our daily sacrifices in the midst of our daily messes for the good of those around us—that salvation comes to us.  Today, in a special way, we unite the "mess" of this pandemic—and all of the sufferings that have come with it—to the cross of Christ: asking for its swift end, of course, but also that the redemption he won for us might be found and accepted in the midst of it.

May our veneration of the cross today remind us that the work of our redemption truly is finished; and, thus, give us hope to persevere through this trial and every trial still to come.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 10^th, 2020

7 Last Words: "It is finished."

Here is my reflection on one of what is traditionally known as "the seven last words of Christ".  This reflection is on his last words, "It is finished."

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            Although it’s difficult for us to forget something that we already know, let’s imagine for a moment that we are hearing these words for the first time.  Let’s imagine that we don’t know, as Paul Harvey would say, “the rest of the story.”

            Imagine a mother and a friend, looking up on the one they love so dear now horribly disfigured—and how their own countenances have been disfigured by their sorrow.  Intense fear and agony overwhelm them, yet we can imagine that there was still hope: hope that in spite of all the mocking and jeering he may yet work a miracle that would save him from this death.  “It is finished.”  Even for these, the ones who were closest to Christ’s heart, as the resurrection was yet unknown to them, these words must have cast a shadow of doubt on their hope in the fulfillment of all that God had promised them throughout the ages.

            Imagine also a crowd of priests and soldiers, looking with anxiety to ensure the execution is completed.  As the intensity of their fervor diminishes—as the intensity of their mocking and jeering subsides— imagine that a certain uneasiness crept into their hearts.  “It is finished.”  Outwardly, they agree and are satisfied; yet inwardly their consciences continue to question.

            Imagine the disciples who didn’t follow their master to that hill, those who were afraid and hid away.  Imagine their questions to those who returned.  “What happened?”  “Did they kill him?”  “Did he say anything before he died?”  “It is finished.”  The intensity of their fear spikes as they hear these words.  Immediately they are flooded with confusion and doubt about their future, about what it will mean to be a follower of his way.  In the days following, fishermen will return to their nets, women will prepare the final burial spices, and pilgrims will walk the long road back to their homes questioning how this could have been the end.

            It is only the light of the resurrection, however, that can reveal that what is finished—that is, what has ended—is not our hope in one who can save, but rather our slavery to sin.  Christ proclaimed these words as a definitive statement to the evil one that his reign had ended and that death—Satan’s last power over man—had been forever destroyed.

            Friends, listen closely to these words of Christ.  In these words he says to each of us, “Your life of sin is over.  It is finished.”  May this end that we remember today lead us to begin anew our lives in Christ.

 

~ Given at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, Carmel, IN - April 6, 2012