Good Friday, April 7
Matthew 27.11-61: Among the features of Matthew’s version of the story are the ways he ties it to the Sermon on the Mount. One of these ways is through the theme of the Father in heaven—the Father in heaven to whom we ourselves direct our most important prayer.
This heavenly Father appears everywhere in the Sermon on the Mount. The disciple’s constant thought and remembrance is the heavenly Father. In all things—whether in fasting, prayer, or almsgiving—he endeavors to please this Father, “who sees in secret.” It is in Him that the believer puts his entire trust, convinced that the heavenly Father knows his every need, even before he prays. It is the heavenly Father’s glory that he seeks above all things. The disciple’s love for others is simply his endeavor to imitate the perfection of his Father in heaven. If he forgives, it is for the sake of being forgiven by his Father in heaven. His sole interest is in doing the will of the heavenly Father, to whom he prays. He does all of these things for the purpose of being a son of the heavenly Father. He seeks his reward only from the Father in heaven.
Such a preoccupation with the Father in heaven is exactly what we find in Matthew’s description of our Lord’s Passion. Jesus is aware that the heavenly Father would answer His slightest wish to be supplied with twelve legions of angelic warriors, were He to request it. He will not request it, however, convinced that this is not the Father’s will.
Indeed, the resolve to do the will of His Father is obviously what most deeply moves and strengthens Jesus in the Passion. Having instructed His disciples, in the Sermon on the Mount, to pray that the Father’s will should be done on earth as it is in heaven, Jesus models this petition when He prays at the beginning of the Passion. Three times, Matthew tells us, Jesus makes the same prayer:
O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” Indeed, the Greek text for “Thy will be done”—genetheto to thelema Sou—is identical in the Sermon on the Mount and the Agony in the Garden. In both cases this prayer is specifically addressed to the Father. Thus, the prayer of Jesus in his Passion exemplifies the prayer given in the Sermon on the Mount. In the conscious intention of His Passion our Lord illustrates the formal moral principle of the Sermon on the Mount.
The moral teaching of the Sermon on the Mount, if it is not to be reduced to an abstract and idealistic ethical code, must be understood and interpreted in the way that Jesus modeled it in His Passion. It is imperative that those resolved to follow the Sermon on the Mount be conscious that nothing less is involved than the mystery of the Cross, in which God’s Son gave himself in selfless obedience to the will of the heavenly Father. From the Mount of the Sermon it is a short step to the Mount of Golgotha.
Zechariah 13: Maintaining his emphasis on the Lord’s Passion and Death, the prophet goes on to speak of the striking of the Shepherd and the consequent dispersal of His disciples (verse 7), a text interpreted for us in Matthew 26:31 (cf. Mark 14:27; John 16:31).
This is the event by which the false gods are defeated (verse 1). These are the demonic forces brought to naught by the death of the First Born. Questioned about the marks of the wounds in His flesh, the Lord responds, “These wounds I received in the house of My friends” (verse 6).
Cyril of Alexandria wrote in the fifth century: “when the Only Begotten Word of God ascended into the heavens in the flesh to which He was united, there was something new to be seen in the heavens. The multitude of holy angels was astounded, seeing the King of glory and the Lord of hosts being made in a form like ourselves. . . . Then the angels asked this, ‘What are these wounds in Your hands?’ And He said to them, ‘These wounds I received in the house of My friends.’” These are the wounds that He will show to His disciples after His resurrection. He bears these wounds in his glorified flesh forever, as He stands before the Father, “as though slain,” being the one Mediator between God and Man (Revelation 5:6).
Holy Saturday, April 8
John 19.38-42: Because Jesus could not rise from the grave unless He had been buried, an explicit insistence on His burial may be noted in the Church’s earliest proclamation. Paul himself, who knew its importance from the earlier tradition (1 Corinthians 15:4), included it in his own preaching (Acts 13:29) and writing (Romans 6:4). All the canonical Gospels, moreover, agree that Jesus was buried by Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Sanhedrin.
Joseph had purchased for himself a special burial vault that was situated, says John (18:41–42), in a garden not far from where Jesus had died. According to Matthew and Mark, this tomb was carved out of solid rock. Luke and John both mention that it was brand new.
This elaborate burial arrangement suggests that Joseph of Arimathea
was a man of some means. Indeed, Matthew (27:57) explicitly records
that he was rich. This detail is, furthermore, of theological significance,
because God’s Suffering Servant, according to prophecy, was to be buried
“with the rich” (Isaiah 53:9).
Zechariah 14: A nun from Gaul, named Egeria, who visited the Christians at Jerusalem in the late fourth century, left us a description of the various liturgical practices of that ancient church. In the course of it, she described how, on Ascension Thursday, the believers gathered on the Mount of Olives, from which Jesus had ascended into heaven. And what did they do? They read the entire account, from the Gospel according to John, of the Lord’s suffering and death.
This remarkable detail reveals how closely related the Christians of old thought the various actions of the Lord by which we were redeemed. They did not think of redemption as taking place solely on the Cross, where the price of our sins was paid by our Lord’s blood (1 Peter 1:19), but as involving also the other events integral to the mystery of the Cross. The accomplishing of our redemption included also the event we celebrate today, Holy Saturday, when Jesus descended into the nether world to free the bondsmen whom Satan held there (3:19).
It included likewise his rising from the dead on Easter, inasmuch as Jesus “was delivered up for our offenses, and was raised because of our justification” (Romans 4:25). As was suggested by Egeria’s account of the celebration of Ascension Thursday, the mystery of our redemption included also our Lord’s ascent into heaven and his assumption of the throne at the right hand of the Father, having been made for ever a priest according to the order of Melchizedek. This latter theme, of course, provides the major images of the Epistle to the Hebrews.
With this in mind, we should not be surprised that the Book of Zechariah, in the final chapter of its section dealing more explicitly with the sufferings of our Lord, prophesies also his standing on the Mount of Olives (verse 4); this mountain is symbolically divided, much as, in the Old Testament, the Red Sea and the River Jordan were divided. His ascent from the Mount of Olives will cause to flow the living waters of redemption (verses 8-9) and the reunion of all God’s people in the Holy City (verses 14-21).
Easter Sunday, April 9
Exodus 1: Israel’s sojourn in the land of Egypt was, for a long time, a period of prosperity: “But the children of Israel were fruitful and increased abundantly, multiplied and grew exceedingly mighty; and the land was filled with them.” If we look at this description closely, it is clear that the Israelites were following the Law God first gave to the human race: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it” (Genesis 1:28). Indeed, they resembled Adam in his original state: “Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it” (2:15).
This resemblance of the Israelites to our first parents is more than a literary parallel. The narrative structure of this book, founded on the gift of the Torah to Israel, continues the account of God’s endeavor to restore humanity to its original state, in which Adam and Eve, prior to the Fall, enjoyed great prosperity, including intimacy and friendship with the Creator. As though to foreshadow that blessing, the Israelites in Egypt are here described as living in the grace of God’s first command, the injunction to prosper, multiply, and fill the earth.
This story contains another prophetic correspondence in Genesis, inasmuch as Israel’s sojourn in Egypt had been prefigured in the story of the father of the Hebrews: “Now there was a famine in the land, and Abram went down to Egypt to dwell there, for the famine was severe in the land” (Genesis 12:10). The conditions of Abram’s eventual departure from Egypt also foreshadowed the circumstances; as we shall see in due course, the similarities between the two events are striking.
To the final editors of the Pentateuch, Israel’s time in Egypt foreshadowed the later sojourn of the Chosen People in Babylon. It was to them that Jeremiah wrote, “Build houses and live there; plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, so that they may bear sons and daughters—that you may be increased there, and not diminished” (Jeremiah 29:5-6).
Indeed, this account of Israel’s time in Egypt became a source of instruction to Jews of later times, when their lengthy exile from the Holy Land obliged them to live and—as far as possible—to thrive among the other nations of world.
These sundry examples, moreover, convey a lesson for believers at all times, inasmuch as God’s elect do not have, in this world, “a lasting city.” Living in society with the rest of mankind, they remain aliens and sojourners on the earth, finding their strength, hope, and solace in the remembrance of the higher Jerusalem to which God calls them.
Monday, April 10
Exodus 2: Throughout the opening chapters of this book Moses, who was, after all, raised at court, appears as a person quite at home addressing the political power of Egypt. St. Stephen observed, “Moses was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and was mighty in words and deeds” (Acts 7:22).
Nonetheless, Moses was aware that he was a Hebrew, and his sense of belonging to this oppressed people prompted him take a stand. This chapter describes his falling out with the Egyptians. He seems never to have thought of himself as an Egyptian. From the first bit we know of him, he identified himself with the Hebrews, whom he knew to be an oppressed people.
He expresses this self-identification in a bold act when he was about forty years old: He kills an Egyptian who was oppressing a Hebrew. Perhaps this incident took place in the context of the slave labor of the Hebrews mentioned in the previous chapter.
We observe something about his action, however, which demonstrates that he took precautions with respect to it: He made sure no one was watching: “So he looked this way and that way, and when he saw no one, he killed the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.” At this point Moses had no intention of starting a slave uprising.
The author, however, is thinking of the bigger picture, especially Moses’ mission as the rescuer of the Hebrews. In his murder of the Egyptian we have a prophecy, as it were, of his activity; before Moses is finished, many more Egyptians will die.
The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, one of our earliest exponents of this text, comments: “By faith Moses, when he grew up [literally ‘got big’—megas genomenos] declined to be called a son of Pharaoh’s daughter, choosing to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the passing pleasures of sin, esteeming the disgrace of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt; for he looked to the reward” (Hebrews 11:24-26).
On the other hand, we may detect a more-than-slight reliance on the enthusiasm of youth in what Moses does here. His act was not brave. On the contrary, he was careful to kill the Egyptian secretly, and he was shocked to find out, “the thing is known.” The zest and spontaneity with which Moses threw himself into this action is to be contrasted with his great reluctance, in the next two chapters, when God gives him the difficult task of actually delivering His people!
Tuesday, April 11
Exodus 3: The story of the Burning Bush here requires two chapters, being the longest “call story” in the Bible. The medieval Jewish commentator Rashi speculated that the event took an entire week! As the story begins, Moses is curious. As usual, he takes the initiative. He will attempt to approach the divine presence on his own!
Moses covers his face but bares his feet, such being the proper response to the presence of holiness, particularly a “holy place.” Holiness is not abstract; it is revealed in concrete physical experiences. The removal of the sandals in this context is found with regard to Joshua (Joshua 5:13-16) and the veiling of the face with regard to Elijah (1 Kings 19:13).
St. Paul explains the deeper significance of the veiling of the face in 2 Corinthians 3:18—4:6. God identifies Himself here as the same God who spoke of old to the patriarchs, and this description of God’s meeting with Moses bears comparison to some similar patriarchal narratives (cf. Genesis 17:1-3; 28:16-19; 32:31.
The divine commission distinguishes Moses from all that went before. From time to time the patriarchs had been told to do certain things (cf. Genesis 12 and 22, for instance), but they were never, strictly speaking, given some task to which they were to devote their entire lives. Moses is the first and prototype of the man called to the exclusive service of God and ministry to God’s people. After him the Bible will describe many such calls.
Beginning at verse 11 we observe Moses’ reluctance to accept his arduous prophetic call. Indeed, this will become a normal response of several of the prophets and other leaders at the time of their call. For example, Gideon (Judges 6.14-18), Jeremiah (1.4-8), and Jonah 1.1-3).
This chapter introduces what Etienne Gilson called “the metaphysics of Moses,” the primary thesis of which is, ego eimi Ho On—”I am He Who Is.” Christians understand this declaration to mean that God is the eternal, personal, and necessary Being, the One who, if He does exist, must exist.
This is an entirely biblical idea, and it marks a new idea on the face of the earth. The God “whose being is to be” never entered the mind of classical philosophy. Neither Plato nor Aristotle nor any classical philosopher identified God in such terms. This God is not an abstraction, “being” as impersonal. This God is Ho On, “He who is.” This God is not the neuter to hen (“the One”) of Plotinus.
In the early 2nd century Hermas of Rome laid out the biblical teaching succinctly: “Before all else believe that there exists only one God, who created and finished all things, and brought all things into being out of nothing.” (The Shepherd, “Mandata” 1.1).
Wednesday, April 12
Exodus 4: All through this chapter Moses anticipates resistance from the chosen people, as had been the case back in 2:14. Popular resistance to the prophetic word was to remain a common biblical theme (cf. Amos 7:10-13; Hosea 9:7; Acts 26:24, etc.).
In the case of Moses the disposition to disbelieve him was to continue to the very end of his ministry. Even in the New Testament, in fact, one observes the sustained complaint that the Israelites were still not taking Moses seriously (John 5.45-47; 7:19.37-39; Acts 7:37-39).
The first stage of this discussion between God and Moses goes through two stages. First, Moses is given three “signs” by which to convince the elders of Israel of the truth of his message. He complains that they will never believe him. It appears, however, that the first unbelief to be overcome is that of Moses himself. Only then will be able to convince the Israelites, and finally, the Egyptians must be convinced.
In the second stage Moses objects that he has never had “a way with words.” Truly so; although at this point in the story he is 80 years old, the Bible records only one sentence from him prior to this time, and that one sentence had been totally ineffective (Exodus 2:13). God reminds Moses that he won’t be speaking for himself (cf. Mark 13:11). We recall that Jeremiah also used an alleged speech deficiency in attempting to escape the prophetic call (cf. Jeremiah 1:4-8).
Time has run out for Moses, but in response to his pleading, God makes the concession that the new prophet is to receive some help. For the first time we learn that Moses has an older brother. Aaron will do the talking, but Moses is not relieved of his own responsibility. Aaron will be his spokesman, but he himself will continue to be God’s spokesman.
This extended dialogue between Moses and God reveals the prophet’s ability at haggling, which is a normal part of business transactions in that part of the world. In fact, one is reminded of Abraham as someone who “drove a hard bargain” with God (cf. Genesis 18:24-32).
Later on in the Exodus account, much will be said about Moses’ ability as an intercessor with God; on one occasion the people will be saved from swift destruction solely by reason of Moses’ ability to “haggle” with the Almighty.
Thursday, April 13
Luke 24.36-54: All of Christian doctrine is rooted, I believe, in the instruction that the risen gave to the Apostles and other disciples during the time between Easter and his Ascension. In today’s final verses from Luke, we see him once again explaining how the Scriptures were fulfilled and how they were to be understood — “The Law of Moses, and the Prophets, and the Psalms.” It was in his Resurrection that “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David,” demonstrated that he “was worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals.” He was worthy to do this because He was slain and had redeemed us to God by his blood (Revelation 5:5, 9).
Jesus interprets Holy Scripture—indeed, he is the interpretation of Holy Scripture—because he “fulfills” Holy Scripture through the historical and theological events of his death and Resurrection. His blood-redemption of the world is the formal principle of Christian biblical interpretation. This is what we mean by “Christian doctrine.”
Exodus 5: The declaration, “Thus says the Lord” (cf. also Exodus 32:27), places Moses squarely in the prophetic tradition.
This is, in fact, the Bible’s first clear encounter of a prophet with a king, an encounter that will be repeated with the likes of Samuel and Saul, Nathan and David, Elijah and Ahab, Isaiah and Ahaz, Amos and Jeroboam II, Jeremiah and Zedekiah, Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar, John the Baptist and Antipas, Paul and Agrippa.
It is instructive to remember that, on the sole occasion when Abraham was called a prophet, it was in connection with a local ruler in the Negev (cf. Genesis 20:1-7 Psalms 105 [1-4]:13-15).
The source of Pharaoh’s problem is that he does not “know the Lord” (verse 2). Before much longer, nonetheless, he will have ample opportunity to make the Lord’s acquaintance (Exodus 8:22; 9:29).
Moses’ encounter with such a man may be compared to David’s confrontation with Goliath, who also did not “know the Lord (cf. 1 Samuel 17:45-47).
Pharaoh reacts “that same day,” taking the initiative away from Moses and Aaron, thereby making them look inept in the eyes of the Israelites (verses 4-9). “Thus says the Lord” is met by “thus says Pharaoh” (verses 10-14).
Here there is a series of complaints: the overseers to the foremen, the foremen to Pharaoh, Pharaoh to the foremen, the foremen to Moses, Moses to God. Pharaoh’s tactic is to divide the people that he wants to oppress. He does not discredit Moses directly; he acts, rather, in such a way that the people themselves will turn on Moses.
The scene in verses 15-21 will be repeated many times in the next 40 years. On each occasion when things do not go well, the people will blame Moses. And when the people blame Moses, Moses will often enough blame God, as he proceeds to do now.
Friday, April 14
John 20.1-10 and 1 Corinthians 15.20-34: From the beginning, the proclamation of the Gospel has always involved a claim that the full weight of universal human wisdom declares to be impossible: the resurrection of a man who had been dead in his grave for a couple of days—as distinct from the mere resuscitation of someone who was presumed to be dead.
This claim, without which there is no Gospel, is the primary component of the “folly” mentioned by the Apostle Paul as inevitably characteristic of the Christian message. That is to say, those who proclaim the Gospel must face the fact that everybody knows it cannot be true!
For this reason, those who believe the Gospel inevitably find themselves separated from what the rest of the human race considers normal and sane. They willingly place themselves outside of every premise and expectation common to the race of men.
From the minute they accept the Gospel thesis, they implicitly declare that they no longer care a fig about what the rest of the world thinks; they are prepared to be regarded as fools on the earth. Believers go for broke. They have burned their bridges with respect to this world. All their eggs are in the Easter basket.
This detachment from the expectations of the world is the source of an immense practical freedom for the Christian people. Believers are aware that the world—if it is wrong with respect to its most fundamental premise and most tenacious preconception—may be wrong with respect to just about anything.
Consequently, they may now start from scratch with respect to human opinion on any matter whatever. If they cannot concede to human wisdom at least that point—the physical finality of death—there is never again a compelling reason to concede any point to human wisdom. They have nothing to fear from the world!
The first preachers of the Gospel were well aware of this fact, being quite familiar with the world’s ingrained prejudice about death. They faced the problem squarely, armed only with the convictions of conscience.
They were especially careful not to let the Resurrection of Christ be interpreted as referring to some sort of “spiritual” experience. Had they spoken of the risen Christ as a kind of incorporeal vision or phantom, someone who spiritually “lived on” after death, their message would surely have met acceptance from many of their contemporaries. The world would—at least—have tried to make an accommodation.
Christians did not succumb to that temptation, however. They insisted that Jesus rose in his very body, the body numerically identical to the one in which he died on the cross.