Homily Lent (ABC) Passion Sunday - Look Up!

Structure

1. Today is Passion Sunday – holiest week, the greatest love

2. Figures of the Passion - Fra Angelico

3. Mantegna’s Crucifixion

4. Acres of Diamonds

5. Oblivious Soldiers

6. Jesus is my Lot

7. Look up!

Intro

Today is Passion Sunday. Nothing I could say would ever do justice to this infinite love. And yet we’ve got to try, don’t we?

Figures of the Passion

One way I like to enter into the Gospel is by way of the different people who appear. We can step into their sandals, see with their eyes, and feel with their hearts.

When Blessed Fra Angelico painted frescoes of the Crucifixion for the cells of his confreres, he often painted St Dominic and other Franciscan friars at the foot of the Cross. We could do something similar. We could ask, of all these bystanders, which one is most like me?

In my fear of the cross, do I flee like Peter, or do I face it like John? Does my heart ache with gratitude for my Savior, like the broken Mary Magdalene? Or does my stoic heart justify its misdeeds, like Pontius Pilate, saying, “What is truth?” Or am like his wife, meaning no harm, perhaps, but still keeping Christ at a safe distance, adopting as my motto, “Have nothing to do with that man.” Or, on the contrary, do I allow Christ to reshape my every thought, like the reverent Nicodemus? Perhaps we all wish we could be more like the Blessed Mother, who stands in silence, repeating the words she said from the start: “Let it be done to me according to your word.” Perhaps the there is a Judas in all of us, too, for in consenting to many sins we have betrayed our greatest friend.

In my life, whenever this momentous feast comes around after a long Lenten journey, I often feel like Simon of Cyrene…unprepared. No matter how hard I try to ready my heart for this moment, it seems to catch me by surprise. I collide with the cross. His death lies only a few steps away.

But as I reconsider this Gospel scene today, I’m captivated by another group of people which may be far more significant than we are inclined to imagine. A Renaissance painting actually helped me discover an important lesson for my own spiritual life.

Mantegna’s Crucifixion

The epic depiction of the Crucifixion by Andrea Mantegna is well-known for the artist’s meticulous eye for details. If we were to go to the Louvre in Paris and gaze upon it, three tall crosses would stand impressively over us. Mantegna features the cross of Christ front and center. Jesus’ arms stretch wide across the composition, and a long rivulet of blood flows all the way to the ground. Jesus is flanked by two thieves, whose crossbeams angle toward him in a symmetrical fashion.

A stone pavement littered with skulls reveals several pre-established holes in the ground, evidence of previous executions in the same spot. This of course is Golgotha, which we read about in the Gospel. The Aramaic expression means Place of the Skull, or in Latin, Calvaria, from which comes the more familiar Calvary.

On the left side of Mantegna’s painting, St John gazes on Christ with sorrowful devotion. Near him, the Blessed Mother withers in the arms of the holy women. But none of these holy people are situated in the center of the scene.

Instead, closest to the cross, a band of soldiers is casting lots on top of a colored disc. Perhaps more than any other artist of his day, Mantegna is careful to get their weaponry and armor exactly right. But it is their posture which speaks to me most. The soldiers who sit in the shadow of the Savior are so engrossed in their game that they remain utterly oblivious to his infinite gift. Meanwhile, they lust after a worthless souvenir.

You know what I say when I see them? THAT’S ME!! A story will help me explain why.

Acres of Diamonds

It’s the true story, which took place about 130 years ago, and is told in a best-selling book by Russell Conwell, who founded Temple University on the proceeds of telling and retelling this story in dozens of cities across America. The book is called Acres of Diamonds.

It’s the story of a farmer who didn’t have much: just an old ox, an old plough, and an old shack. With his meager earnings, he provided as best he could for his wife and family.

One day a traveler passed by and took refuge under the farmer’s tree. In the shade, he told him about his adventures in India, where men had discovered diamond mines and were raking precious gems out of the riverbeds with their bare hands.

The farmer was so taken by the prospect of turning from pauper to prince overnight that he couldn’t sleep. He resolved right then to sell everything: the plough, the ox, the whole farm. In the morning, he kissed his wife and children goodbye and said, “When I come back, I’ll be a rich man.” And off he went to chase diamonds.

His exploits brought him first to South Africa then to India, and he eventually ended up in Spain. Wherever he heard news of a diamond rush, he hastened after his dream. After a time, his resources ran dry. Realizing that all his striving had been in vain, he plummeted into despair. He threw himself into a raging river and drowned.

* * *

I know what you’re thinking. What a chipper story Father!

Yes, I know, but I’m afraid the saddest part is still to come. You see, there’s something I didn’t tell you. Before the man abandoned his home and family, he sold his property to a local farmer. Day after day, the new farmer set to work in the same old field with the same old plough and the same old ox.

Honestly, his labor was hardly glorious and far from fun. Silence and sweat were his daily bread, especially because the field he was trying to till was littered with bothersome stones. One day, he unwittingly split one open with his plough. When he bent down to examine the shattered remains, he glared in utter amazement. It seemed to him, Conwell writes, that a rainbow had been trapped inside.

He carried home the precious stone and set it over his mantel, where he could admire its beauty.

One day the local priest came by to pay the farmer a visit. The two of them were exchanging pleasantries, when the priest stopped mid-sentence. His eyes had caught sight of the stone on the mantel. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh that? Yes, isn’t that something? I found it, working in the field.”

“Do you know how special this is?”

“It’s quite lovely, but I suppose it can’t be all that rare. I’ve got thousands of black stones just like this one.”

The priest was astounded. “Thousands? Sir, I must tell you that I was once a jeweler. I can assure you that this is no ordinary stone. This is a diamond! Of course, you have to chip away this rough exterior, but inside… Did you say you have more?”

“Oh yes. Would you like to see?”

So they rushed out the door and into the field. Soon they were on all fours, laughing and singing as they raked up diamonds with their bare hands! And not just one or two dozen, but literally… acres and Acres of Diamonds.

* * *

Well, would you believe me if I told you this was the most significant discovery of diamonds in the 19th c.?

I love that story. It’s wonderful and tragic at the same time, and I believe it contains a profound lesson for all of us. We easily point a finger at that poor man who didn’t know what he had, but maybe we are the ones, who, here and now, are oblivious to the hallowed ground on which we stand.

Back to Mantegna – Oblivious Soldiers

We are like these foolish soldiers, so engrossed in our petty little world, that we don’t see the vast universe that he would open up to us if we would just LOOK UP.

Perhaps this is the reason Mantegna painted those soldiers as he did, in such a prominent place. Then again, perhaps he was just reading the Gospel. Sure enough, immediately after Jesus’ crucifixion, we find soldiers casting lots for his garments.

And when they had crucified him, they divided his garments among them by casting lots (Mt 27:35).

Is that not shocking? Although the Gospels are painfully discrete in describing Jesus’ sufferings and many other details that I, for one, would be very curious to learn about, all four Gospels are intent upon showcasing this seemingly secondary detail.

When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier; also his tunic (John 19)…

Ok, fine, now let’s move on. But no, the evangelist feels the need to tell us how the tunic was sown.

…But the tunic was seamless (oh!), woven in one piece from top to bottom (ooh!), so they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be.”

Who cares? Where are we going with this? Why are we even talking about these dirty clothes in the first place?

When you find enigma in the Scriptures, don’t run away! This is a call to contemplate more deeply.

There must be something here. This detail is evidently so important that it is the first thing that must be said once we reach this climactic moment in the Gospel. We have just pegged the Son of God to a tree. Wow! Then what happened? Did the earth spin out of orbit? Did the sun implode? No, says the evangelist. Get this! The soldiers cast lots and divided his garments among them. What!? Some lucky soldier went home with a souvenir from the Miracle-Man so he could sell it later on eBay? Why must the gospel writer even include that?

(Do you want to know the real answer. The evangelists are crazy about sewing and crochet. Look at how this tunic is woven in one piece…what fine work!)

Why then? Perhaps we could image Matthew saying. “Listen, that’s just how it happened. I’m just reporting the facts here.”

I don’t think so. John gives us a major clue…

This was to fulfill the Scripture which says, “They divided my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.”

Hmm. So this event actually fulfills an age-old Scripture. That does indeed seem important, but what does it mean?

Of course, we can crack the code because in today’s liturgy we have the cheat sheet. A Psalm of David, inspired by God, written some 1000 years before Christ, said, “they divided my clothes among them, they cast lots for my robe.”

I invite you to marvel at this fact for a moment. How awesome is our God! He called his shot long ago. So long ago, we didn’t see it coming. But he did. He had a plan from the very outset, and now that plan, in all its minute details, is reaching its fulfillment in the Passion, death and Resurrection of Christ. At last we see the master hand of a true Artist; we hear the rhymes you make not with words but with events of human history.

But we have to go even deeper. Why did this divine Poet use this rhyme? Why specifically the image of casting lots?

The Language of Lots

First of all, you’ve got to know that a “lot” is a specially marked object, such as a pebble, a piece of pottery, or a stick, used to decide something. By extension, it comes to mean that which is assigned by lot or simply given as a portion or share. You win the lottery, by casting lots.

Portion, share, lot – these are words scattered all over the literary landscape of the Bible, all over the book of Joshua, for example. Once the People of Israel are led out of the slavery of Egypt, through the wilderness, and into the Promised Land, each tribe gets its territory. A portion goes to Gad…another to Napthali…a big old slice for Manasseh. But what’s the one tribe that gets no slice of that Promised-Land Pie?

The Levites!

And why? Because God hates his priestly tribe? Has he short-changed his most beloved servants?

No! He saves the best portion for them. Numbers 18:20 says…

And the Lord said to Aaron, “You shall have no inheritance in their land, neither shall you have any portion among them. I am your portion and your inheritance among the people of Israel.

You see, even from the beginning, the Lord intended to apportion more than material gifts to Israel; he wanted to give himself to his beloved people. The Promised Land was only an earthly sign of an even greater Heavenly Treasure.

And evidently Israel got the message, for in the Psalms all would sing:

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.

Or as another translation beautifully runs,

The Lord is my allotted portion and cup; In you my destiny is secure.

See, the Lord does not just offer us an inheritance; he is our inheritance. He is the pearl of great price!

Look up!

If only we would open our eyes and see. If only we would look up.

God wants to give you infinitely more than what we are seeking for yourself. Look up!

He his dying to pour his own divine life, his own divine love into your heart. Look up!

He holds nothing back, but gives you all of himself. Look up!