The True Story of Holy Week: Why Jesus Is Not the Messiah We Expected

 Palm Sunday, Year A

Holy Week invites us to reflect on whether we are truly hearing the story of Christ or projecting our own expectations onto him. While many expected a Messiah of power and violence, Jesus reveals a radically different path of love, service, and sacrifice. The rituals and stories of this week are meant not just to be observed, but to transform our hearts and renew our lives.

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Recently, there was a film released called Wake Up Dead Man, part of the Knives Out trilogy. I am not recommending the film, as it contains some coarse language, but it has generated significant discussion because of its religious themes. In the movie, we encounter two priests. One is not portrayed particularly well, while the other is a former boxer who experienced a profound conversion and became a priest.

One of the main characters, played by Daniel Craig, is the detective Benoit Blanc. He is something of an exaggerated character. At one point, he enters a church and speaks with the former boxer priest, leading to a striking conversation about faith.

Benoit Blanc admits that he has no faith. When asked how he feels in the church, he initially describes the emotional effect created by the architecture and the light through the windows. But as he continues, something shifts. It becomes clear that his past experience of religion was negative. He says that being in the church makes him feel as though a story is being imposed on him, one he does not believe, a story he associates with violence and misuse.

The priest responds thoughtfully. He acknowledges that the Church is full of rituals and rites, and that these are indeed forms of storytelling. But he poses a deeper question: do these stories convince us of something false, or do they resonate with something profoundly true within us, something that cannot be expressed except through story, ritual, and symbol?

That question leads directly into what we celebrate this week. As we begin Holy Week, we encounter a series of powerful rituals, rites, and stories. We enter into the Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. We will witness the washing of feet, the veneration of the cross, and the blessing of the fire at the Easter Vigil. These are not random actions. They are stories enacted.

Holy Week draws us into what is most central to our faith: who God is and how we are called to live. These rituals and stories are meant to transform us, to shape our understanding and deepen our faith.

Today, on Palm Sunday, we are presented with two different stories, and we are invited to ask which one we are truly hearing.

When we hold palms, we are not simply reenacting a moment of praise. We are also being challenged. The people who welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem had expectations. They believed he would be a Messiah like Judas Maccabaeus, who, about 150 years earlier, had driven out foreign oppressors through force. In the Book of 1 Maccabees, we read that palms were waved as he entered Jerusalem in victory.

So when the crowds waved palms for Jesus, many expected a similar story: a Messiah who would come with power, overthrow Roman rule, and restore their nation.

But that is not the story Jesus fulfills.

The Passion account shows us a very different kind of Messiah. Jesus does not come with military strength or political power. He comes in humility and service. He washes the feet of his disciples. He is betrayed, suffers violence, and responds not with retaliation but with forgiveness. He lays down his life in love.

This is the story we are invited to enter during Holy Week. It is not a story of domination, but of self-giving love. Not a story of overcoming violence with greater violence, but of transforming it through sacrifice and mercy.

Palm Sunday is our moment to choose which story we will embrace. It is an invitation to let go of false expectations and to receive the true story of Christ.

These rituals and stories are not meant to remain external to us. They are meant to shape us from within. As we enter this Holy Week, we are encouraged not only to attend the liturgies of the Triduum, but to participate in them deeply. To allow this story to enter our hearts, to change how we understand God, and to renew how we live as his disciples.

From Tomb to Life: Finding Hope in Christ’s Resurrection

5 Sunday Lent, 3rd Scrutiny, John 11

The raising of Lazarus reveals that while death brings real grief, Christ transforms sorrow into hope through his power over death. By pointing to his own resurrection, Jesus shows that the life he offers is not temporary but eternal, a victory we share through baptism. Even now, this new life is at work in us as Christ frees us from what binds us and invites us to live in hope.

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Water, light, and life. These are the three themes we have been contemplating over these past Sundays as we have listened to these important stories from the Gospel of John. They invite us to reflect more deeply on our baptism: the light of faith we receive, the cleansing water that makes us a new creation, and the gift of the Holy Spirit poured into our lives.

Today, we turn to the theme of life. In the story of the raising of Lazarus, we are invited to reflect on how, in baptism, we are joined to the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. We receive the life of Jesus not only for the present, but also the promise of resurrection after death.

As we have seen in recent weeks, John tells his stories with multiple layers, offering different ways of seeing so that we may grasp a deeper truth. Today’s Gospel is no exception. In the raising of Lazarus, we are invited to contemplate three different tombs and to see how what Jesus does speaks directly to us, especially in relation to our baptism. 

The first tomb is the most obvious: the tomb of Lazarus. This is a deeply emotional story. Lazarus, a close friend of Jesus, has died, and those around him are filled with grief. Mary and Martha mourn. The community gathers in sorrow. And we hear one of the shortest yet most powerful verses in Scripture: Jesus wept.

Here we are reminded that death touches every one of us. When a loved one dies, grief is real and profound. There is a story told of a child at a funeral who asked his grandmother, “Why do people cry if we believe the person is with God?” She replied, “Because love does not end when someone dies, and when love has nowhere to go, it becomes tears.” The child paused and said, “So crying is just love that is missing someone.” “Yes,” she said, “exactly.”

Jesus weeps. He knows the pain of loss. In the tomb of Lazarus, we see how death brings grief into our lives.

But John does not want us to remain there. He does not want us to stop at weeping. He wants our sorrow to be transformed into hope.

This leads us to the second tomb: the tomb of Jesus. Throughout this Gospel, John intentionally draws connections between the raising of Lazarus and the resurrection of Christ. Both tombs are caves sealed with a stone. In both stories, Mary is present in mourning. In both, there is an important role for Thomas. And in both, there are burial cloths.

When Lazarus comes out of the tomb, he is still wrapped in burial bands, with a cloth covering his face. Jesus instructs those present to unbind him. Lazarus is restored to life, but he will one day die again. He still needs those burial cloths.

By contrast, when Jesus rises from the dead, the burial cloths are left behind in the tomb. They are found there by Peter and the beloved disciple. Jesus does not need them again. His resurrection is not a return to earthly life but the definitive victory over death. He will never die again.

This is the heart of our hope. Jesus not only raises Lazarus but points forward to his own resurrection, which conquers death completely. And through baptism, we are united to him. Because Christ has died and risen, we trust that we too will rise.

This brings us to the third tomb: our own.

This Gospel invites us to reflect not only on the death of others but on our own mortality. Yet it calls us to face death with hope. As Saint Paul teaches, if we have died with Christ, we will rise with him. In baptism, we are already united to his death and resurrection.

Even more, this new life is not only something we await in the future. It is something we begin to live now.

We see this in Jesus’ conversation with Martha. She already believes in the resurrection on the last day. But Jesus deepens her understanding when he says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Eternal life is not only a future promise. It is a present reality for those who live in relationship with him.

Through baptism, we already share in this new life. We are made new in Christ.

And just as Lazarus is unbound, so too we are called to be unbound. The Lord desires to free us from whatever holds us back. As we approach Holy Week, we might ask: where do we need to be set free? From resentment, from fear, from habits that weigh us down, from anything that keeps us from living fully in the life Christ offers?

Today’s Gospel is about life. It is about seeing the tombs of Lazarus, of Jesus, and of our own lives in a new way. As we draw closer to Holy Week, let us ask for the grace to live more deeply the gift of our baptism, trusting that Christ has come to give us new life, both now and forever.

 

Seeing the World with the Light of Faith

4 Sunday of Lent, Second Scrutiny

Faith shapes the way we see and interpret the world around us. In the Gospel of the man born blind, Jesus not only restores physical sight but leads the man to a deeper vision of faith, recognizing him as Lord. Through the gift of baptism, Christ gives us the light to see God’s presence in both the blessings and struggles of our lives.

Listen to homily here:

Read Homily here:

Faith can be, for many of us, a struggle. Believing that God exists, believing that God is close to us and cares for us, can be difficult, especially at times in life when things are hard. At those moments we may ask ourselves important questions. What does it mean to have faith? How do I know if I have faith? What does faith look like concretely in my life?

Faith can be described in different ways, but the Gospel today, the story of the man born blind, teaches us that faith has something to do with how we see the world. Faith has to do with how we see reality and how we interpret what is happening around us.

When we think about it, all of us have different lenses through which we view the world. We interpret reality in different ways. Recently I have noticed that objects at the back of the church are becoming a little blurry. I am having a harder time seeing things that are far away. So last year I went to the eye doctor for the first time to have my eyes tested. The verdict was that my eyes are getting older and that I will probably need glasses soon, though not quite yet. Many of you who wear glasses know how much difference the right lenses can make. With the proper lenses we see things clearly. If we put on glasses with the wrong prescription, we cannot see properly at all.

The lenses through which we view the world matter greatly. Sometimes the lens through which we see reality is shaped by our temperament, our upbringing, or our personality. One common distinction people make is between the optimist and the pessimist. Neither way of seeing the world is perfect. The optimist sees things with hope but may sometimes overlook suffering or difficulty. The pessimist may see problems clearly and be pragmatic, but may also fall into discouragement or hopelessness. Another lens is that of cynicism. As someone once said, the cynic knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.

The way we interpret the world has a great impact on how we live.

In today’s Gospel we see that Jesus gives us something new. He gives us faith so that we can see the world differently. Faith allows us to interpret what is happening around us and to recognize God present in it.

At first glance the Gospel is simply about Jesus restoring sight to a man who was born blind. But this is the Gospel according to John, and in John’s Gospel there are always deeper layers. The story is not only about physical sight. It is about something more important.

We see this from the very beginning when Jesus says, “I am the light of the world.” Light and darkness are central themes in John’s Gospel. When we have light, we can see and walk clearly. When we are in darkness, we cannot see.

As the story unfolds, several people witness what Jesus has done, yet they interpret the event very differently.

Some respond negatively. The religious leaders investigate what happened, but they focus on the fact that Jesus performed the miracle on the Sabbath. Because of the lens through which they interpret events, they conclude that Jesus must be a sinner. They refuse to see the good that God has done before their eyes.

Others respond with hesitation. The parents of the man who was healed know that their son can now see, yet they remain cautious and distant. Their faith does not lead them to recognize who Jesus truly is.

Finally we encounter the man who was healed. He grows gradually in his understanding of Jesus. If we listen carefully to the titles he uses for Jesus throughout the story, we see the progression of his faith.

At first he simply calls Jesus a man. Later, when speaking to the religious leaders, he calls Jesus a prophet. His understanding has grown. Finally, when he meets Jesus again at the end of the Gospel, he calls him Lord and worships him.

This man experiences two miracles. The first is the restoration of his physical sight. The second is the growth of faith. He comes to see Jesus for who he truly is.

Faith allows us to see the world differently as well. We may see good things happening around us and think they are simply coincidences. We may encounter suffering and conclude that God is absent. Faith is the lens that allows us to interpret reality differently. Faith allows us to recognize God’s goodness in our lives and to trust that God is present even in difficulty.

To have the eyes of faith means recognizing that Christ, who suffered and died for us, remains close to us when we suffer. It means believing that God continues to accompany us.

This kind of faith is a gift that we first receive in baptism. Once again, John’s Gospel contains several layers. On one level the man receives his sight. On another level the story is about faith. On yet another level it points to baptism.

Consider the way Jesus heals the man. He makes mud with his saliva and places it on the man’s eyes, and then sends him to wash in the pool. There is an anointing and there is washing with water. Many commentators have seen in this an image of baptism.

In the early Church this Gospel was closely connected with baptism. Jesus, the light of the world, enlightens those who are baptized so that they can see the world differently. In fact, in the early Church baptism was sometimes called photismos, a Greek word meaning enlightenment. Catechumens preparing for baptism were called those who were about to be enlightened, and the baptized were called the enlightened.

In baptism we receive a new way of seeing.

As we continue our journey through Lent, we might ask ourselves a simple question. What is the lens through which I see the world? Do I see the world with the eyes of Christ? When I experience blessings in my life, do I recognize them as gifts from God? When I encounter suffering, do I trust that Jesus remains with me?

Let us pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit so that the grace we received in baptism may grow stronger within us. May we receive the faith to see the world with the light of Christ.