Christmas is fast approaching, that one feast of the year where about everybody comes to Mass, which is encouraging to the soul but a logistical nightmare for liturgical and parking planning. My pastor announced on Saturday night [December 21] that the doors of the church would be unlocked at 2:30 PM on Christmas Eve, or 90 minutes before the first Mass at 4 PM “for those planning to save seats.” My church has two Christmas Masses at 4 PM, the second one in our social hall. I commiserate with my pastor on the “saving seats” matter: I have never attended the 4 PM Christmas in my present parish, but as a pastor in previous sites I know firsthand that—how do I put this--territorialism survives where the front row is concerned on Christmas Eve.

Sixty years ago, there was no such thing as a crowded cocktail hour Mass on Christmas Eve. The first Mass of Christmas was Midnight Mass in the Roman Missal. As an altar boy in the 1950’s I remember Midnight Mass as the premiere adult Mass of the Church year. Even parents with kids sent one adult representative to Midnight Mass, which was preceded by a majestic hour of the church choir climaxing with “O Holy Night” at 11:55. In my middle school years I would stand at the sacristy door in my surplice and cassock and get goose bumps. I even have olfactory memories of Midnight Mass in East Buffalo: there was a unique air about this Mass—a mix of incense, candle wax, perfume, tobacco, whiskey, and bad breath. There was a loophole in Church Law that nobody in authority seemed in a hurry to fix: the codes of the time clearly stated that one’s communion fast began at Midnight. Many of you may still remember that law. It is fair to say that a fair number attended Midnight Mass as the nightcap to an evening of celebration that just might have included alcohol. Even my maternal grandparents hosted a family party on Christmas Eve where the Genessee, Utica Club, and Iroquois beers were enjoyed, responsibly of course as we kids were present.

The fact that we as Catholics now have a late afternoon Mass [or multiple vigil Masses] on Christmas Eve is a direct result of Vatican II, which opened the doors again to a custom of celebrating high holy days with Vespers or Evening Prayer on the eve of the feast. [ Ruling by Pope Paul VI, December 1969.] Within a decade, the “Saturday Night Vigil Mass” became de rigour in most of the United States, in no small part because families could more easily attend Christmas Mass together. Under the older pre-Vatican II directives in Latin, the first Mass of Christmas, according to the Roman Missal, was a midnight celebration with its own set of prayers and scripture readings. If you owned a hardcover “daily Missal”—and some people followed the Mass that way as missalettes were still years down the road--you would find that the Roman Catholic instructions provided for three distinct formulas for Christmas Mass: Midnight, Dawn, and “during the day,” each with its own biblical selections and prayers.

With the liturgical changes of the 1960’s, it was soon obvious that the Christmas Mass schedule needed some fine tuning. Most urgent was a new Biblical format for a proposed Vigil Mass on Christmas Eve. [Readings available here in their entirety.]  The challenge was finding a fitting Gospel for the Vigil. The most detailed Christmas text was and remains St. Luke’s account, [see below], but it had been the staple of Midnight Mass liturgy for centuries. People today come to Mass expecting to hear St. Luke’s narrative. St. Mark has nothing on Christ’s birth, nor does St. John aside from the poetic and doctrinally rich hymn which opens his Gospel with Jesus’ baptism as an adult. The only option open to the missal writers was to insert the text of St. Matthew’s Gospel into a new Christmas vigil Mass on the drawing board. [see below] There were two problems with Matthew, though. The first is that his Christmas narrative begins with Jesus’ genealogy, which lists the forty-two generations between Abraham and Joseph. The second issue is Matthew’s limited information on the details of Jesus’ birth itself.

Of course, the editors left themselves an emergency exit by adding to the Lectionary a generous note for the Vigil Mass of December 24, which gives the celebrant of the vigil Mass the option of omitting the genealogy altogether and thus beginning the Gospel with Joseph and the Angel. However, by the time I was ordained in 1974 St. Luke’s Midnight Mass Gospel was becoming the unofficial “Christmas text” proclaimed at most or all Masses on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. The other Christmas Mass Gospel readings have distinct beauty and certainly inspired truth. So, if come Tuesday you get the onerous job of saving seats for your twenty-six relatives, and it is an hour till Christmas Mass, join me for a quiet stroll through all the Christmas Mass Gospels and some amazing genius from the evangelists. All the texts cited below should be available in your worship aid in your pew or from your phone by clicking the brown links to the New American Bible.

THE CHRISTMAS VIGIL MASS: [Missal: for use between 4 and 11 PM on Christmas Eve]
One might have expected to see St. Mark, the earliest evangelist, in the first Christmas Mass, but in fact St. Mark’s Gospel has no Christmas narrative at all. In fact, Mark’s Gospel has been called “A Passion Narrative with a long Introduction.” Mark has no mention of Jesus’ early life. The message of Mark is the cost of discipleship—i.e., the Cross.

St. Matthew’s entire Gospel is intended to establish the identity of Jesus as the new Moses, the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures. So, it is not surprising that St. Matthew’s Christmas narrative begins with a genealogy from Abraham to Joseph, concluding with this sentence: “Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.” This is a clever phrasing, something like “If Mary’s child had not been conceived by the Holy Spirit, my son would be of Abraham’s blood.”

Moving on to the next portion, we have Matthew’s “annunciation” account, though in this case an unnamed angel lays out for Joseph the divine plan for Jesus’ birth. That Joseph, and not Mary, is featured in this account is reflective of Jewish culture and the role of the father in the family. Something to remember here is that the Church will be celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany in about ten days after Christmas. Matthew is the only evangelist to narrate the visit of the wisemen, and hence the Church saves a major portion of Matthew’s Christmas narrative for the Epiphany, where his Gospel is read every year.

THE MASS DURING THE NIGHT [Missal: for use between Midnight till before dawn.]
This Gospel text from Luke is reflected in your home Nativity setting, though to be liturgically correct, the three wise men do not belong there till January 6. But if I were a parent, I would put all three wisemen and the shepherds and the angels and the little drummer boy, if it helps, and tell my kids the Christmas story as you know it instinctively. When they grow up, they can read “The Catechist Café” for the subtleties. It is important to note for your adult study that Luke portrays the first people to behold the Savior as blue-collar workers. Matthew, by contrast, has royalty from the East.

Luke’s Gospel has become the “Christmas Gospel,” just as the Magi have become Matthew’s unique “Epiphany Gospel.” Whatever time you attend Mass on Christmas, expect to hear Luke’s Gospel.

THE MASS AT DAWN [Missal: Dawn]
On a few Christmases I celebrated a 6 AM parish Mass, using this Dawn option from the Missal. The Gospel text from Luke is a shorter piece taken from his longer Midnight Mass Gospel text. In every parish that I have been associated with, there was always a contingent of parishioners who craved a sunrise Mass or a 6 A.M. Mass. My recollection is that attendance was surprisingly good at Christmas and Easter dawn Masses, with lots of children [!] who had not opened their Santa presents yet. We had no music, and I led two or three favorite carols from the sanctuary. I ignored my prepared Christmas sermon and talked straight to the children about the shepherds waiting for their present from heaven. A three-minute sermon. [“Boy, can you do that every week, father?”] As a celebrant, I enjoyed this dawn Mass immensely. The kids all behaved despite their nervous apprehension about what Santa might have brought them, and the senior citizens looked like they were in heaven.

Look at all three Scripture readings for this dawn Mass. They are all unusually brief. On purpose? Did St. Nick bring the Vatican Cardinals extra cigars and brandy during the planning phase years ago? If I learned anything from three months in Ireland, it is possible to experience Mass as devout, simple, and brief.
 
MASS DURING THE DAY [Missal: During the Day]
It is unfortunate that we do not hear St. John’s Gospel more often—and particularly this Gospel text used on Christmas Day as soon as the sun rises. St. John’s Gospel is not one of the three Gospels in the three-year liturgical cycle. St. John is reserved for major feasts—Holy Thursday, Good Friday, the three Lenten Sundays of the Catechumenate—and of course Christmas, though the text and the subject matter of John’s is not always recognized as “traditional Christmas.” But this text is among the most sacred of the entire New Testament. It is the inspiration for the doctrinal formulations of the Nicene Creed, a summary of everything we believe about Jesus the Christ. You probably won’t hear it at your Christmas Mass this week but find time to read and pray over the text.

The next Café post will be later in the week. But the Café is open 24 hours! Margaret and I will be attending the 7 PM Vigil Mass in our parish. As we age, we are sliding earlier. We used to go at Midnight, then we went earlier at 9 PM, and now we go at 7 PM, where we always find a good seat. Will we ever go at 4 PM? In a word, no. 

What will be read on Palm Sunday?
One advantage we have today is the standard numbering of the Bible texts, which probably coincides with the invention of printing and mass distributions of the sacred scriptures. In arranging the 1970 Lectionary for the Mass, the Church appoints Chapters 14 and 15 as Mark’s “Passion Narrative,” though one could argue that 16: 1-8 flows neatly into the narrative, too.
 
The Conspiracy [14: 1-2]
The narrative begins with the Jewish scribes and chief priests caught between a rock and a hard place. Jerusalem is filling up for the solemn Passover, and there is temple fear of “a riot among the people.” Anthony Saldarini’s Jesus and Passover [1984] is a fascinating source for this setting. The population of Jerusalem hosted as many as 100,000 pilgrims for Passover, or ten times its normal number. So many meals were cooked/grilled outdoors during Passover that smoky fog was a considerable problem. If you have watched “The Chosen” you already know that the Romans were skittish about any local public gatherings. Jesus has already been the center of one such event, Mark 11, the passage read with the blessing of the palms.
 
Interestingly, this is the second conspiracy gathering to plan Jesus’ death. In Mark 3:6, “The Pharisees went out and immediately took counsel with the Herodians against him to put him to death.” Planning for his death was beginning as early as chapter three! His enemies want him dead, but they are cautious not to create mayhem.
 
The Meal at Bethany [14:3-9]
This gathering at the home of Simon the Leper is recorded in three of the four Gospels. Mark does not name the woman who bursts on the scene and anoints Jesus with rich ointment. Other Gospels suggest this is the “Mary” of the Mary-Martha-Lazarus family. Presumably the Twelve were in attendance but Mark is not clear on this point. The woman is not weeping or washing his feet with her hair. Rather, she breaks open a precious vessel of body oil and pours it on Jesus’ head. This is a gesture of royal respect and love.
 
If the apostles were present, their collective howl of protest puts them in a poor light, for Mark describes their comments as “indignant,” that the cost of the oil poured upon Jesus was wasteful and better spent on charities. Jesus, for his part, accepts the gesture and defends the woman. He also puts her ritual into its historical setting, noting she has prepared him for his burial. “Amen, I say to you, wherever the Gospel [good news] is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of me.” The negative reaction of the other diners—particularly the Apostles’ chiming in—is a sign that after all their time with Jesus, nobody really understands the nature of Jesus’ Messianic mission.
 
Look at how St. John, writing decades later, edits Mark’s account in John’s Gospel. “But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages. He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.” St. John edits the story such that Judas is the sole villain and the apostles, by then revered in the memory of the Christian people, are forgiven of their moment of weakness. [John 12: 4-6]
 
The Betrayal by Judas [14: 10-11]
This brief account shows, among other things, that Judas was not a total stranger to the chief priests and their concerns, particularly in avoiding creation of a public disturbance. They are paying him to learn “the right moment” for arrest.
 
Preparation for the Passover [14: 12-16]
A Passover meal, properly prepared, was a “big deal.” That all the pieces of Jesus’ Passover plans fell together so smoothly in so short a time is a subtle way of saying that the divine plan is unfolding as planned. Some scholars take note of the man carrying the jug of water, a task normally reserved for women. All the Gospels are fairly clear that only the chosen Twelve were present, the best proof being St. John’s lengthy Last Supper discourse preparing the Apostles for the future.
 
The Betrayer [14: 17-21]
One thing we can say for certain is that the Passover led by Jesus, the “Last Supper,” did not look like da Vinci’s rendering, grand as it is. The practice of the time was to eat reclining. When Jesus reveals that his betrayer was at the table, there is true amazement among the eleven disciples who each exclaim, “one by one” in Mark’s words, “Surely it is not I?”
 
There is something that may catch the reader unawares. How is it that only Jesus and Judas knew the ugly secret in this tight circle? See my essay, “Dropping like Flies.” The scripture scholar Francis Moloney contends that the people around Jesus, including the Apostles, were drifting further and further away from his message. Perhaps the twelve were drifting apart from each other, too.
 
Why did Judas betray Jesus? Many years ago, the musical Jesus Christ Superstar includes a song from Judas, where he laments [blames?] Jesus for predestining him to be the historical villain in Jesus’ own plans. As the evangelists were neither father confessors nor psychoanalysts, alas we shall never know for certain.
 
The Last Supper [14: 22-26]
Often overlooked in this sacred moment of history is Jesus’ statement, “Amen, I say to you, I shall not drink again the fruit of the vine until the day when I drink it new in the Kingdom of God.” Is Jesus speaking of an imminent arrival of the kingdom or a distant one? Will he drink the future wine soon? Mark says no more about the point. Matthew and Luke both report that the crowds beneath the cross offered him wine, which he refused. But in the last Gospel, St. John [John 19:30] reports: “When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit.” John completes the earlier understanding of Mark as he describes Jesus’ drinking the wine of the new kingdom and conferring the Holy Spirit upon the earth.
 
Peter’s Denial on the way to the Garden [14: 27-31]
The essence of this encounter is well known. What is somewhat confusing is where the disciples would regroup and meet Jesus after the Resurrection. In Mark, Jesus says, “But after I have been raised up, I shall go before you to Galilee.” [Mark 14: 28] The original text of Mark records no later meeting. On the other hand, Matthew reports that Jesus met his intimates in Galilee, while Luke and John report encounters with Jesus in Jerusalem itself. The variety of reports reflects the overall theological understandings of each evangelist.
 
The Agony in the Garden [14: 32-42]
One of the Church’s most important beliefs is the fullness of Jesus’ divinity and humanity. Here we see the full humanity of Jesus. Some find this episode disturbing, that Jesus, in profound mental anguish, would plead three times [!] that “the hour might pass by him.” The struggles of Peter, James, and John to “keep watch” [for the armed guards of the temple?] are well known, though a Passover feast of multiple toasts of wine had probably rendered them into a stuporous state. Interestingly, the later Gospel of John has no mention of a garden agony, given John’s tendency to emphasize the divinity of Christ.
 
The Arrest [14: 43-52]
The crowd that came to arrest Jesus can only be described as motley. Judas appears to be the organizer. There does not appear to be much interest in helping the poor servant who lost his ear. In Luke’s account, Jesus heals the man. But here Jesus questions—why all the hardware? “Day after day I was with you teaching in the temple area, yet you did not arrest me.” Mark has identified this crowd as lackeys of the chief priests, scribes, and temple elders, and he is laying this mayhem at the feet of the temple personnel. Hated as they were, the Roman authorities get a pass from Jesus [via Mark] for this violent scene.
 
Just about all of Jesus’ followers fled the scene or, like Peter, dropped out of sight. The theme of abandonment is clearly emphasized. Mark, in fact, is the only evangelist to tell us that a young man, about twenty years old, was seized by the mob, and that he escaped by slipping out of his linen cloth and fleeing naked. A lot of ink has been spilled over the centuries explaining the bare elements of this escape. My guess: the escape is a metaphor for the fear and panic to escape association with Jesus and the rigorous courage necessary for discipleship. It is also true that when Mark writes of the discovery of Jesus’ tomb on Easter Sunday morning, the women meet a young man dressed “in a white robe.” And of course, sometimes you can just overthink something to death.
 
The Trial before the Sanhedrin [14:53-65]
Mark’s Gospel has the shortest account of Jesus’ “trial,” perhaps Mark’s subtle way of expressing his contempt for the whole proceeding. The “witnesses” were outright liars who contradicted each other. It is Jesus himself who brings this pitiful parade to an end by making the Sanhedrin itself a collective body of perjurers. Jesus announces that he is indeed the son of the Blessed One: “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power and coming with the clouds of heaven.” Interestingly, Jesus is not calling himself God or Yahweh, but for the Sanhedrin his claims are extreme enough to make him “deserving to die.”
 
Peter’s Denial [14: 66-72]
Mark records that Jesus is not present when Peter swears violently—thrice—that he does not even know Jesus. Luke, on the other hand, records that Jesus looked at Peter during the denial. Witnesses to Peter’s denial note his strong Galilean accent. Galilee was 80 miles from Jerusalem, far enough away to have its distinct accent easily recognizable to citizens of Jerusalem in those days.
 
Pilate [15:1-15]
Jesus’ “trial” by the Sanhedrin occurred during the night, and the elders and scribes brought Jesus to Pilate early in the morning. It is not clear from the Gospel text what grounds the Jewish leaders were using to ask for an execution other than the charge that Jesus was claiming to be either God or the king of the Jews, which in fact he was not claiming. Verse 15:10 is a giveaway that Pilate saw through the plot: “For he knew that it was out of envy that the chief priests had handed him over.” In fact, when Pilate asks the crowd why he should execute Jesus, they cry out louder “Crucify him!” Ultimately, Pilate’s reason for killing Jesus was “to satisfy the crowd,” as Mark records in 15:15.
 
It should be noted here that the behavior of Jewish crowds and leaders recorded in all four Passion narratives has been used by Christians as an excuse to kill, harass, segregate, and denigrate the entire Jewish race. Sadly, it continues today. In researching the Council Vatican II [1962-1965] for another post, I was surprised at the opposition of many high-ranging churchmen and bishops to the Council’s work of reconciliation with our Jewish brethren. The Catholic Church today holds that antisemitism is sinful, and that the excesses of behavior at Jesus’ trial are not representative of the Jewish faith.
 
The Crucifixion [15:16-15:32]
The actual execution of Jesus as recorded by Mark is remarkably brief compared to the other Gospels. The torture by the soldiers described by Mark was probably standard fare for political pretenders of any sort. “Hail, King of the Jews!”
 
Several Gospels, including Mark’s, make mention of Simon, a Cyrenian, in assisting Jesus with his cross. The New American Bible translation of Mark has Simon carrying the cross, suggesting that Jesus was already seriously weakened and close to death as he approached Golgotha.
 
 
When Jesus arrived at Golgotha, he was offered “wine drugged with myrrh,” probably a narcotic of some sort, “but he did not take it.” [15:23]
 
The terrifying act of crucifying a human being is described in just four words: “Then they crucified him.” [15:24] Mark records that Jesus was crucified at “nine o’clock in the morning” and died at “three o’clock.” Given that the telling of time in the first century was not an exact science, many scholars believe these times stand for primitive worship observances on the annual observance of Jesus’ death by Christian communities.
 
That said, Mark is describing a full day of unthinkable agony, a human body supported by spikes through the wrists. The text shows particular interest in the verbal insults from the crowd; the irony here is that every insult recorded by Mark is true: Jesus is the Messiah, he would rebuild the new temple in three days, i.e., his own body, and so forth.
 
Mark highlights the insults of the two “revolutionaries” crucified with him, “Those who were crucified with him also kept abusing him.” [15:32] There is a remarkable word play in the text. The Greek word ονειδος is translated into English as “to abuse.” But its full meaning in Greek is much more violent: screaming, raging, cursing. The word is used only twice in the New Testament, both times in this Gospel. [see below.]
 
Jesus’ Death [15: 42-47]
Several Gospels report darkness: Mark says it was dark for three hours before Jesus died. That would rule out an eclipse, which lasts 2-4 minutes. Often the evangelists use terms like “darkness” and “nighttime” to signal the temporary power of evil. The reverse is true, too. In John’s Gospel Jesus converts the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well “at noon.”
 
Jesus’ cry from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” is a quote from Psalm 22. It is another sign that Jesus has fully embraced the human experience of full dependence upon the Father. It is not a sign of moral despair.
 
Jesus refuses the last offering of wine and dies with “a loud cry.” Several remarkable things happened next. First, “The veil of the [temple] sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom.” The perfect offering of Christ’s life has turned the point of liturgical worship upside down.
 
St. John’s Passion describes the piercing of Jesus’ side by a soldier as synchronous with the Passover lambs being slaughtered in the temple.; the blood and water that splash from his side in John are the first outpourings of the new worship, baptism and eucharist. This description is read at the Liturgy of Good Friday.
 
Mark’s second noteworthy event at Jesus’ death is the profession of faith of the centurion at the foot of the cross: “Truly this man was the Son of God.” When nearly all of Jesus’ intimates have abandoned him, there is considerable irony that this pagan soldier steps forward to respect him. Mark also notes that there were women followers of Jesus “looking on from a distance” and waiting to minister to the burial needs of Jesus if that would be possible.
 
A brave and generous man [15: 42-47]
Mark has gone to some trouble to keep us informed of the time, and with good reason. If Jesus died at 3 PM, then a good deal must be done to bury him before sunset, the strictly religious practice of devout Jews. The first thing necessary was to obtain the body from Roman authorities. Here we are introduced to Joseph of Arimathea, “a distinguished member of the Council who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God.” Joseph meets Pilate who, strangely, was surprised to hear that Jesus was already dead. Crucified individuals were known to linger for several days.
 
Pilate consults with “the centurion” [yes, that one] and, upon his report, Pilate releases the body to Joseph. Joseph spares no expense: he transports Jesus and “laid him in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock.” This is no simple tomb; all the evangelists agree that the door to this enclave was too large to be easily moved. Moreover, nowhere does Mark suggest that this tomb was Joseph’s own tomb. We can guess that Joseph bought it [for cash?] at a very hefty price. Little is known of Joseph who, like the centurion, must have recognized the profound nature of Jesus and his message.
 
However, Mark does not describe the preparation of Jesus’ body by the women after the crucifixion. There was none. With sunset approaching, there was no time for the women to complete a lengthy burial procedure wedded to their traditional faith. But think back to the opening of the Passion Narrative in Bethany where the unidentified woman pours precious perfumed oil on his head. Jesus observes that “she has anticipated anointing my body for burial.” [14: 8] With his other gifts, Mark is a master narrator. By the end of Chapter 15, we are down to two of the old guard followers: “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses watched where he was laid.” [15:47]
 
And then there were none. [16: 1-8]
Mark does not have full-blown resurrection narratives like the later Gospels. In truth, his only reference to Easter is the completion of the Passion account. The two Mary’s and Salome return to the tomb, having observed the Sabbath on the previous day, and discover it is already opened. They meet a young man dressed in white who announces the Resurrection and continues to instruct them to tell the disciples to go to Galilee where Jesus will meet them. Mark reports that they fled the scene, “seized with trembling and bewilderment. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” [16:8, the generally recognized conclusion of Mark’s entire Gospel.]
 
If you read all four of the Gospels, you will catch a common theme—the empty tomb caused more grief than joy. In St. John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene admits to an unrecognized Jesus that “someone has taken the body.” In Matthew’s text, the Jewish leadership pays hush money to the tomb guards and spreads the rumor that the disciples stole the body. It is indeed quite possible that some of Jesus’ followers believed his corpse was stolen or were genuinely confused by what was happening.
 
Before we jump to radical conclusions, remember that Mark wrote this Gospel three or four decades after the Resurrection. It was plain to Christians by then that the “Jesus movement” did not die two days after the Resurrection, even if the inner circle had been shaken to its core and some of their brethren had apostatized. Mark is not simply a historian: he himself has encountered the risen Christ—in person or in baptism--and he is a teacher and preacher. His original Gospel is a sermon about discipleship: it is easy to be friends with Christ when the road is downhill, but as danger and persecution mounts, it is easier to melt away and disappear. Mark, recall, was writing in the era of Nero; he knew the pressures to give one’s cross back to the Savior.
 
The later endings [16:9-20 et al]
Your bible will have multiple endings for Mark’s Gospel, mostly post-Resurrection appearance narratives added in later years because the original ending was so stark. These endings [the longer ending, the shorter ending, and the Freer logion**] were recognized as inspired by the Council of Trent in 1563.
 
One point worth addressing here is 16:14 where Jesus is quite angry with the disciples “for their unbelief and hardness of heart because they had not believed those who saw him after he was raised.” In this sentence the author uses the Greek ονειδος, the same word used to describe the two angry men as they raged at the crucified Jesus.
 
**The Freer Logion manuscript is stored in the Freer Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. but it is not available for public viewing. I made that mistake once in 1987. The guards laughed heartily. 

PALM/PASSION SUNDAY AND THE GOSPELS OF THE PASSION
 
On March 23-24 the Church will celebrate the Saturday/Sunday observance of “Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion,” as the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops’ cite refers to this multiple observance. The custom of cutting and carrying palms dates back as early as the third century, based upon Christ’s solemn entry shortly before his death. But the focus of the weekend’s observance is the proclamation of the Lord’s Passion. Since 1970—with the reformed rite of the Mass and Lectionary—the Church alternates the Passion narratives on a three-year cycle; this year, Year B in the rotation, features the Passion according to Mark.
 
Prior to 1970, the Palm Sunday Gospel was always the Passion of St. Matthew. As the Paulist Biblical Commentary ​ observes, “From the earliest times it has been the preferred Gospel of the Christian Church, the most quoted by the fathers, the document that comes closest to providing the Church with a “constitution” for its life, structure, and mission.” [p. 900] But later modern scholarship discovered that [A] St. Matthew’s Gospel was not the first Gospel written; that honor goes to St. Mark. [B]. St. Matthew draws 80 percent of his material from St. Mark. [C] All four evangelists provide distinct and insightful “constitutions” for the life, structure, and mission of the Church, and thus each of the four must be solemnly proclaimed for the faithful in the Church’s worship. Consequently, we now have the three-year Palm Sunday rotation of Matthew, Mark, and Luke in successive years. [Again, 2024 is a year of St. Mark.] The Passion according to St. John is always proclaimed at the Liturgy of Good Friday.
 
FOUR TAKES
 
Naturally, all four evangelists are in unison with the Holy Spirit on the central truths of the Incarnation, Message, and Redemption manifested in Jesus of Nazareth. But each of the four evangelists was an independent theologian, stylist, and preacher—much like our later doctors of the Church—and creates  narratives which emphasize, as much as any four humans can do, a narrative of Jesus of Nazareth that open doors for us to marvel at new visions of divine mystery, much like turning a precious jewel to the light.
 
The art of Bible study includes the ability to analyze the differences between the four Gospels and to isolate the key ideas and themes. In some cases, this is obvious: St. Luke sees the Holy Spirit as Christ’s life in the Church till the end of time. St. Matthew sees Jesus as the ‘new Moses” come to fulfill Jewish messianic expectations. St. John, the last of the writers, is more mystical in addressing the Church about 100 A.D. of the reality of the humanity and divinity of Jesus. It does not seem to me that in catechetics or in preaching we study the Gospels helpfully, as individual works of literature. Instead, we toss the four Gospels in a blender and end up with a generic narrative that obscures much of the mystery of Jesus on earth. It is very noticeable at Christmas, where only St. Luke portrays the Bethlehem infancy, and two evangelists have no Christmas stories at all! It is also true with the Passion and Resurrection narratives.
 
WHO IS ST. MARK?
 
Strangely, the oldest copies of this Gospel circulating around church communities had no name attached to them. The earliest theological doctors of the Church, notably St. Irenaeus, record around 200 A.D. that this Gospel was written by a disciple of Peter whose name was Mark. In one of his own New Testament letters, St. Peter speaks of one Mark as a companion, a son, and dear disciple. [1 Peter 5:13] and a John Mark is mentioned in St. Luke’s Acts of the Apostles. There is historical confidence that Mark was a bona fide Christian who lived at Rome. Did his material come from Peter? It is possible that Peter and other Christians shared their memories, but not in a literal sense, as Mark’s arrangement of his Gospel is clearly his own as he develops a theological understanding of Jesus.
 
When I was growing up, Mark was still something of the ugly duckling Gospel. It was the shortest, at [barely] sixteen chapters. [Matthew has 27, Luke 24, John 21]. Liturgically, before the 1970 reforms, his Passion narrative was read on the Tuesday of Holy Week when few people attended Mass. People used to say that Mark’s Gospel was basically a Passion narrative with a long introduction. But in the twentieth century scholars came to agreement that Mark was the first to attempt a form of faith biography that was entirely new to Christianity. He “invented” the Gospel format. His Gospel was shortest because it was the first!
 
HOW IS MARK’S GOSPEL DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHERS?
 
It is generally believed that Mark’s is the only Gospel written before the fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. Both Rome and Jerusalem were going through hard times: Nero [37-68 A.D.] persecuted Christians mercilessly in Rome and is believed to have executed St. Peter. Jerusalem, meanwhile, had revolted against Rome in a four-year siege [66-70 A.D.] and ultimately destroyed by the Roman general Titus. The later Gospels, in describing the end of the world, borrow heavily from details of the last days of Jerusalem; Mark does not. The Paulist Commentary [p. 972] states that Mark may have been written in Rome for a Christian community deeply committed to St. Peter’s preaching and leadership—who were living in terror under Nero’s reign and missing their executed leader, Peter. [The Book of Revelation, written some years later, seems written for persecuted community as well.]
 
All the same, Mark’s Gospel is not just a rally to one community. The tenor of this Gospel is universal, intended for all who had been attracted to the words and deeds of Jesus. In a sense Mark teaches that there will always be a Nero and the Church. In fact, if this were the only Gospel to survive, the Church would identify itself as a community of intense believers who took Jesus’ invitation to literally take up the cross and follow him to death. Writing two decades later, St. Luke rephrased Jesus’ words to “take up your cross daily,” to soften the stark austerity. [Luke 9:23; Matthew also]  
 
Mark’s chief interest in writing this Gospel is to contrast the pains and terrors of the present time with the unspeakable glory that is to come. In St. Mark’s day, there were still many Christians who believed that the Second Coming was around the corner [as in St. Paul’s 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18, written in the 50’s A.D.] St. Luke was the first evangelist to fully understand that the Church may have a long future.
 
Something for us to contemplate on this year’s Palm Sunday is Mark’s effort to describe our challenges to be faithful disciples. The PC describes this Gospel as “a story about the disciples, who struggle to understand who Jesus is,” [p. 975] a story of growth, recognition, failure, and rebirth. In his excellent commentary The Gospel of Mark, Francis J. Moloney caries out the theme that as Christ’s death came to its final moment, everyone—crowds, intimates, disciples, The Twelve—had peeled away. I explain this further in my review of Moloney's work from 2008 linked here. This is the only Gospel without a formal recognition—and the last followers, the women who anointed him on Good Friday, flee from the empty tomb and even from the divine command to meet Jesus in Galilee. [The original text of Mark’s Gospel ends at 16:8. Two [possibly three] endings were added later and are considered inspired, but not from Mark’s hand.]
 
The next time we meet, we will walk through the Passion as it will be read on Palm Sunday this year. In the meantime, separate yourself from the other Gospels and imagine that all we know about Jesus, particularly his passion, comes from the pen of the inspired St. Mark.
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This coming weekend [April 9-10] marks the feast of “Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion,” which includes the traditional blessing and procession of palms and the proclamation of the Lord’s Passion and Death. Prior to the Vatican II reform, this feast was known popularly as Palm Sunday, though my 1956 missal refers to it as Second Passion Sunday or Palm Sunday. “Passiontide” encompassed the last two weeks of Lent when we old timers can recall that all the statues and crosses were veiled in purple.
 
Again, the missal of my youth observed Palm Sunday with the reading of the Passion according to St. Matthew, a Gospel which enjoyed a preeminence in the Church equaled only by St. John’s Gospel, whose Passion narrative was and continues to be the text of choice for the solemnity of Good Friday. Any altar server of the 1950’s will recall that the Passion according to St. Mark was read in Latin on the Tuesday of Holy Week, and that of St. Luke on the Wednesday of Holy Week, an elongation of the Masses of those days that made us late for school and/or breakfast.
 
The reform of the Mass, which produced the Missal we use today, also reformed the Lectionary of Readings for Mass, initiating the A-B-C Cycle with which you are familiar. In this new format, the Passion narratives of the three synoptic Gospels are rotated through Year A [Matthew]; Year B [Mark] and Year C [Luke]. St. John’s account of the Passion remains the annual Gospel for the Solemnity of Good Friday.
 
As we are in the C Cycle in 2022, the Passion according to St. Luke will be proclaimed in Roman Catholic churches around the world. [Alas, I am not familiar with the format and liturgical specifics of the Eastern Rite Catholic Churches.] I suspect that when we attend the Palm/Passion Mass each year, we go in with a kind of smugness that “we know the story” and our primary responsibility is to produce sorrow for our sins. While this is certainly the end game, consider that we would only need one Gospel and one Passion Narrative to move our souls. Why, in the Church’s ancient wisdom, did it specifically sanction four accounts as the corpus of our knowledge of Jesus and his message? Approving four narratives—each with a variety of differences from the others—took a considerable amount of courage from the Church Fathers, and the wisdom of their Spirit-filled choices continues to create marvel in the Church to this day.
 
All four of the Gospels take their origin from a basic oral script of the reality and meaning of the historical Jesus. St. Peter’s sermon in Acts 2: 22-24 is believed to be derived from the earliest description of Jesus in Christian preaching: “Jesus the Nazorean was a man commended to you by God with mighty deeds, wonders, and signs, which God worked through him in your midst, as you yourselves know. This man, delivered up by the set plan and foreknowledge of God, you killed, using lawless men to crucify him. But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it.” If this is indeed close to the earliest apostolic preaching, then obviously much work remained to be done, not least of which was to confirm the very divinity of Christ, a task which was not finally and formally resolved until the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D., which roughly coincides with the full Church acceptance of the four Gospels as the definitive truth of Jesus Christ.
 
 
But each of the four Gospels is a “Christology” unto itself, a particular thematic understanding of the nature and mission of Jesus. One of the best ways to study a particular evangelist’s theological outlook is to examine closely the differences between the Gospels. These differences can be subtle but always significant. Where St. Mark quotes Jesus as saying one must “take up your cross and follow me,” St. Luke rephrases the text to “take up your cross daily and follow me.” This one-word addition speaks volumes to Biblical scholars. Mark wrote his Gospel prior to the Fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. when the end times and Second Coming were believed to be imminent. Death by persecution was a very real prospect. Luke wrote his Gospel some years later with the insight that Christianity might indeed last for the ages, and consequently that the baptized would need daily attention over many years to successfully follow Christ.
 
Scholars agree that in writing his account of Jesus’ death, Luke worked from Mark’s shorter draft, adding to the narrative exclusive segments which express the evangelist’s unique understanding of the cross, his inspiration from the Holy Spirit.
 
Luke describes the passion as Jesus’ ultimate battle against the powers of evil. Luke’s passage [Luke 22: 35-38] is unique; spoken at the end of the Last Supper and on the way to the Garden of Olives, Jesus urges his disciples to arm themselves; “And the one who has no sword must sell his cloak and buy one.” Jesus is describing the battle for men’s hearts. Just moments earlier, at the table he warned Peter that Satan was striving for his [Peter’s] allegiance. The disciples take Jesus’ call to arms much too literally and certainly too superficially. “Lord, look, here are two swords.” It is literally and morally a pitiful response against the true powers of evil, not to mention the sizeable guard that would soon overtake them. Jesus replies, “It is enough,” to be understood as “enough of this kind of talk.”
 
Luke describes Jesus as in total command of all that would happen to him. Recall the very purpose of Luke’s Gospel, in his dedication of the book to Theophilus in Luke 1:1-4. If, as we believe, Theophilus was a powerful and inquisitive man of good will, it was imperative that Luke present to him the narrative of Jesus’ appalling suffering and death as preordained in the plan of God and fully embraced by God’s Son. Luke is the only evangelist to record the miracle of the restoration of the servant’s severed ear, cut off by Peter during Jesus’ arrest. The miracle indicated that had he wished, Jesus could have escaped his captors. But rather, he embraced willingly and freely his suffering and death that God’s glory might be made eternally evident in the Resurrection.
 
St. John would later pick up on Luke’s theme; in his Gospel Jesus observes to his captors in the Garden that at his command legions of angels could come to his defense and save him from arrest if he sought to summon them.
 
Luke embraced his suffering with composure.
 
Mark’s account describes Jesus as going through considerable anguish from his multiple prayers in the Garden to his last moments on the cross--“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” By contrast, as Reid/Matthews record in Luke 10-24, “the Lukan Jesus comports himself with restraint. He makes no direct confession of emotional anguish. He prays only once for the cup to be taken away…after assuming the more formal posture of kneeling, rather than lying prostrate.” [p. 587]
 
As it turns out, scholars have come to see Luke’s description of Jesus “in the mold of a philosopher, facing his death in the manner of Socrates.” [p.587] Luke’s description of Jesus above the fray created problems in the early centuries, feeding the popular misconception that Jesus was not truly human. Again, modern scholars have come to accept that Luke 22: 43-44 is a later addition to the text; this is the famous “bloody sweat” passage, which is not consistent with the thrust of the entire Lukan Passion narrative.
 
Luke is the only evangelist to involve King Herod in Jesus’ trial.
Why the Lukan Gospel includes an appearance of Jesus before King Herod as part of his judicial processing is open to multiple conjectures. Reid/Matthews see the Herodian interlude as an example of “the narcissism and callous indifference that rulers who hold power of life and death over captives often display. Though the fact that Jesus has been interrogated by Pilate on charges of insurrection suggests that his life hangs in the balance, Herod shows no concern for Jesus’s precarity…Herod hopes for Jesus to perform a sign—a magician’s trick or some comparable amusement—to satisfy his curiosity.” [pp. 596-97] Given Herod’s lack of faith, Jesus does nothing. Reid/Matthews sees this text in the context of powerlessness—where government structures are corrupt, the poor and the powerless suffer.
 
There is another issue to consider here. Luke is writing a “universal Gospel.” His emphasis is upon Jesus as the savior of humankind, not just the Messiah of Israel. His target audience includes laypeople like Theophilus, presumably a Roman. It would do his purpose no good to heap all the blame for Jesus’s death on the Romans. Bringing Herod into the picture as a co-sentencer suggests to the reader that Jesus’s own people had abandoned him and found him worthy of death.
 
It is worth noting here that at the moment of Jesus’s death, a Roman centurion makes his faith in Jesus’s righteousness and innocence. [Luke 23:47]
 
Luke is the only evangelist to include Jesus’s forgiveness statements.
 
Anyone who ever attended a “Seven Last Words” service is familiar with these two passages found only in Luke’s Gospel. As Jesus is being nailed to the cross, he prays, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And later, in response to the thief’s imploring, Jesus tells him, “This day you will be with me in paradise.” The Paulist Biblical Commentary presents a very insightful commentary on these two forgiveness clauses. In the first instance, Jesus prays that his Father [not Jesus] will forgive his persecutors. The PBC states; “It is pastorally helpful in that it shows Jesus praying that the Father forgive his offenders [an attitude more imitable than direct forgiveness of enemies carrying out an unjust execution.”] [p. 1098] Reid/Matthews make a similar point when they address the issue of abuse victims and their perpetrators.
 
But several hours later, when the “good thief” seeks forgiveness, Jesus himself assures him that he will have it. What has changed? Jesus has completed his work and the new age of grace has begun. Again, from the PBC, “The reign of Christ the King begins in the ‘today’ of the resurrection. This fulfills the prophesy of Jesus’s statement during the inquest before the Sanhedrin: ‘From now on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God.’” [pp. 1098-1099]
 
Luke is the only evangelist to recount Jesus and the Weeping Women of Jerusalem on the way to Calvary.
 
The curious thing about Jesus’s intervention here is that these mourners are residents of Jerusalem, which is the key to understanding the passage. The city was filled with people for the Passover, but Jesus addresses this specific population. Recall that Luke is writing some years after the Fall of Jerusalem, an event he sees as the consequence of the failure of the holy city to recognize Jesus. Again, from the PBC, “In effect, Jesus is saying to the women, if the Romans readily perform this unjust crucifixion now, when things are relatively orderly and peaceful [when the wood is green], what will happen in the days of war that will surely come [when the wood is dry]—as actually happened in the years leading up to the destruction of 70 C.E.” [p. 1098]
 
I have barely scratched the surface of Luke’s Passion narrative, but I think I have made the case that the early Church intended for us to read each Gospel carefully, remembering that Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John each bring a distinctive vision and narrative of the meaning of Jesus to the life of the Church. If you read your bible—and especially if you teach the Bible—do not throw the four Gospels into a blender! They are meant to be savored individually like fine wine.