The Paradox of Suffering

April 13, 2014
Palm Sunday
First Reading: Isaiah 50:4-7
http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041314.cfm

“Anything worth living for is worth dying for.” It is hard lesson for us to learn. No one wants to go around dying, but of course, we all know that truly living for someone or something besides ourselves isn’t very easy either. The prophet Isaiah thrusts aside our hedging by presenting us with a stark contrast: a disobedient people who can’t even find their mother’s divorce certificate from God (Isa 50:1) and an obedient servant who willingly proclaims God’s message of repentance and deliverance in the face of terrible suffering (Isa 50:4-7ff). The passage selected for the First Reading is the words of that Suffering Servant.

Speaking of Tongues

This section of Isaiah begins with a self-description, starting with the tongue. It sounds a lot like other OT poetic passages where the poet describes his tongue and speech at the beginning of his song (Pss 35:28; 45:1; 51:14; 71:24; 119:172). Here though, the prophet Isaiah is not describing himself, but putting these words in the mouth of the Suffering Servant. The Lord has entrusted a special message to this servant. Indeed, his tongue is “well-trained” (50:4). The Hebrew word here, limud, is rare and indicates the kind of knowledge that results from discipleship. The point is not that the Servant has been inspired in the moment, but that his message is the result of a long period of training. He has been trained in righteousness, in the law of God.

Rousing the Sleepy and handing on the message

When the Servant goes to describe the purpose of his training, he surprises us. His “tongue training” is for the purpose of waking up the sleepy. His goal is to rouse, encourage, sustain and wake up others. He does not want to merely give people information, but to put heart into them. Isaiah is teaching us that encouraging is not just a gift, it is a skill. The Servant has learned how to rouse the weary. Of course, the kind of slumber we’re talking about is not mere physical sleep, but spiritual stagnation, acedia, sloth. The Servant will wake people up out of their sleepy spiritual approach to life.

The Servant emphasizes his role as handing on a message from God. “Morning after morning” the Lord speaks to him and day after day, he faithfully conveys the message he hears to others. So his mission involves both listening and speaking. God “awakens” his ear and conveys a message to him. Faithful listening leads to faithful speaking. One must first be awakened in order to awaken others. The Servant consciously passes along a message, a difficult message of repentance, a call to return to the Lord, but also a message of hope and restoration. He insists also on his fidelity. He says “I have not rebelled; I have not turned back.” However, his faithfulness to God’s message will cost him.

Suffering Servant

The Servant will suffer for speaking out, for conveying the message he hears from God. He mentions four specific forms of physical suffering he endures: 1.) beating on the back, 2.) beard plucking, 3.) buffets (or reproaches), and 4.) spitting. Rather than fleeing like a coward and getting wounded in the back, the Servant presses on through a frontal assault in order to complete his task, to convey his message. The specific forms of suffering he describes match up remarkably well with Jesus’ passion when he is flogged on the back, spat on, and subjected to the angry derision of the crowds. In fact, the lengthy Gospel reading from the Gospel of Matthew for this Palm Sunday includes some of these incidents (Matt 26:67, 27:26, 30). The Suffering Servant’s obedience in the face of persecution contrasts with the nation of Israel’s disobedience, which Isaiah points out early in chapter 50. Jesus himself fulfills the character of the Suffering Servant: he conveys the Father’s message of repentance to the people and suffers intensely in spite of his righteousness. He is unjustly condemned and treated with disdain.

Shame and Glory

In Isaiah 50:7 the Suffering Servant says, “The Lord GOD is my help,/ therefore I am not disgraced” (NAB). Normally, public humiliation is disgraceful. That’s the point of public punishments, whether being put in the stockade, wearing an orange jumpsuit while doing community service, or even being publicly executed. But Jesus’ public humiliation, while seeming to be disgraceful, actually isn’t. God the Father supports him, helps him, and honors him in the midst of human shaming.

A Face like Flint

Lastly, the Servant says that he has set his “face like flint.” That might sound odd, but flint was a very hard stone, often found as nodules in limestone deposits. Limestone is all over the Holy Land, as the typical building stone. It is soft and easy to work with, but flint is another matter. It can only be broken and shaped by “knapping,” the way cavemen made stone tools. The Servant looks to the future, to the completion of his mission, with the determination of the hardest rock. Jesus indeed “set his face” toward Jerusalem (Luke 9:51) and went up Mt. Calvary willingly. He chose the hard, but right path, the path of sacrifice and martyrdom, the path of redemptive suffering, rather than the easy road of doing what the crowd approves of. His moment of seemingly disastrous shame actually turned out for his glory. Through his suffering and death, Jesus becomes the Savior of the World.

His powerful example shows us that the vindication of the Lord is more important than the shaming of other people. He takes our suffering upon himself so we can be free and in the process teaches us that what seems glorious might actually be disgraceful and what seems disgraceful might turn out for our glory. Such a profound paradox can only be taught by example

Scripture Speaks: Palm Sunday

Gayle Somers

Palm Sunday’s Gospel is a drama that is at once both intensely human and profoundly supernatural—the mystery of Christ’s Passion.

Gospel (Read Mt 26:14-27:66)

On Palm Sunday, Catholics all over the globe, in every nation and time zone, in public and sometimes in secret, stand at attention to hear the longest Gospel narrative of the entire liturgical year. This riveting episode needs no interpretation. Young and old, male and female, educated and uneducated, sophisticated and simple—all of us are caught up in the story and understand it. Why is it so universally accessible? The answer must be because it is a truly human drama, with the kinds of characters, action, plots and subplots, emotions, twists and turns that all of us know, because we either have lived or are now living them. Who among us has not experienced something of betrayal, fear, humiliation, misrepresentation, powerlessness, malice from others, remorse, and dark foreboding? This Passion story is not one told in philosophical, theological, or metaphorical language. No, this story is our story, full of the truths of life that no one ever has to teach us.

Because of its length and density of details, a comprehensive commentary is not possible here (see Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week by Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI for a truly glorious examination of all the Passion Scriptures). Still, many of us can be helped to stay attentive (we need help because, alas, we are like the apostles who kept dozing while Jesus agonized in Gethsemane) as it is read at Mass by pondering beforehand one of the story’s most fascinating themes: irony.

Ever since the Garden of Eden, when the serpent promised “opened eyes” to Adam and Eve and instead caused spiritual blindness, the human experience has been laced with irony (words or events that seem to mean one thing but actually mean something else). We never grow tired of seeing it exposed, in others or in ourselves (that’s why we love it in literature, humor, and the daily newspaper). This Gospel story, being very human, abounds in irony. Let’s follow some of its threads:

At the Last Supper, all the apostles deny that they could possibly fail Jesus, yet all of them, except John, do (Mt 26:56). Judas kisses Jesus, a sign of fraternal love, but the kiss was one of betrayal. Those who arrest Jesus show up with swords and clubs, yet all they had ever seen Him do was sit peacefully in the Temple and teach. Both Caiaphas and Pilate, who conspired to kill Jesus, confess Him with their own lips as “Christ, the Son of God” (Mt 26:63) and “the king of the Jews” (Mt 27:11), without Jesus having to say anything except, “You have said so.” The man, Barabbas, whose name means “Son of God” and who was guilty of insurrection (sometimes translated as “robber”), is released from prison in exchange for the true “Son of God,” who paid the price for the release of all the rebellious “sons of God”—you and me. The crowd crying out for Jesus’ crucifixion calls, “His blood be upon us and our children”—and it was. However, His blood would not be the blood of guilt, as they supposed, but the blood of atonement, for their forgiveness. With their own lips, they welcomed it. Unthinkable irony!

And there’s more—the soldiers dress Jesus like a king with a robe, a crown, and a scepter. They think this is for His humiliation and exposure as a fraud, but instead it acknowledges that He is the king of a kingdom not of this world. Over His Cross, in a sign written in the three main languages of the Greco-Roman Empire, they unwittingly declare Jesus king of all nations. (Note: the three languages declaring Jesus as king are still make appearances today in the Mass. Kyrie is Greek; Alleulia is Hebrew; Sanctus is Latin.) Finally, in an attempt to make sure that no one could possibly steal the body of Jesus and claim He had risen from the dead, they secure the tomb “by fixing a seal to the stone and setting the guard” (Mt 27:66), thus guaranteeing that the only explanation for the re-appearance of Jesus, should it happen, would be His Resurrection. The “king” Who looks weak and impotent, dying at the hands of those who despised Him, would, by this very weakness and suffering, defeat Death, man’s most powerful enemy, the greatest ironic reversal of all time.

No wonder this is a story whose appeal will never be exhausted!

Possible response: Jesus, what is there to say to You in gratitude for what You endured for me? I owe You my life!

First Reading (Read Isa 50:4-7)

The prophet, Isaiah, because he lived during a time of great covenant unfaithfulness in God’s people (about the 8^th century B.C.), had to deliver dire warnings of coming catastrophe unless the people repented. He prophesied that judgment would inevitably fall, but Isaiah also spoke of a coming restoration, when their punishment would end, and the people would once again flourish in their land. Remarkably, Isaiah’s prophecies included detailed descriptions of a Suffering Servant who would play a significant role in this restoration. Through his innocent, willing suffering, the sin of the people would be forgiven. Here, of course, we have an astounding Messianic prophecy of Jesus, the Innocent One Who suffered on behalf of all people, making our redemption possible. There are several “songs” in Isaiah about this Suffering Servant. Today’s reading highlights the determination of the Servant to stay the course set out for him, regardless of the physical violence and acts of degradation against him. This prophecy was fulfilled in Jesus, Who “steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem” (Lk 9:51) and quietly endured contemptuous brutality, as we see in the Gospel reading. Although Jesus wrestled in the Garden with His natural desire to avoid suffering, He rose from His agonized prayer to fulfill Isaiah’s words: “I have not rebelled, have not turned back” (Isa 50:5).

Possible response: LORD, I need the courage and perseverance of the Suffering Servant to do Your will when I face opposition. Please grant me that grace in the Eucharist today.

Psalm (Read Ps 22:8-9, 17-20, 23-24)

We can’t read this psalm without being amazed at how accurately it describes some of the details of the Crucifixion. That is why we understand it as a Messianic psalm, written by David, King of Israel, hundreds of years earlier. David, like Jesus, was persecuted unjustly. His enemies wanted to destroy him, and his suffering made him cry out, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” However, in a verse not included in our reading, David acknowledges that God has not forsaken him: “For He has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; and He has not hid His face from him, but has heard when he cried out to Him” (Ps 22:24). This is the turning point of the psalm. David goes on to see a time when he will be restored and be able to “proclaim Your Name to my brethren in the midst of the assembly” (Ps 2:25), even being able to “eat and be satisfied” (Ps 22:26). In other words, David sees life after his suffering, something wonderful from God on the other side of it that will cause all Israel to “give glory to Him…revere Him” (Ps 22:23). Is it any wonder, then, that this psalm was on the lips of Jesus as he was dying on the Cross? The separation from God He experienced as He bore the full weight of all humanity’s sin made Him feel abandoned, as did David, but He had the hope of the psalmist, too: “Posterity shall serve Him; men shall tell of the LORD to the coming generation, and proclaim His deliverance to a people yet unborn” (Ps 22:30). We cannot doubt that this psalm, known so well to Jesus, gave Him courage as He drank His cup of suffering to its bitter end.

Possible response: The psalm is, itself, a response to our other readings. Read it again prayerfully to make it your own.

Second Reading (Read Phil 2:6-11)

St. Paul gives us a summary of the Incarnation and, with it, a preview of what lies beyond the sober details of today’s Gospel narrative. Jesus left His glory in heaven to become one of us, yet He became more “us” than we are ourselves! God made us for obedience to Him, which would enable us to live in His “image and likeness” and be truly happy. We, however, always choose disobedience, so, on our own, we never really reach who we actually are. Jesus chose perfect obedience for us, even unto death. Therefore, God gave Him the Name that will eventually cause every knee to bend and every tongue confess that “Jesus Christ is Lord.” In all our other readings today, we see the Suffering Servant, stripped of power and glory, the very image of weakness and defeat. In this epistle, we see King Jesus, exalted and glorified and worthy of praise—the perfect anticipation of the joy of Easter!

Possible response: King Jesus, help me to believe that the way of humility and obedience is always the path to glory.