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Year B

On this page you will find:

  • The readings from the Mass

  • The Mass leaflet with the choice of hymns

  • A sample universal prayer available for download

    • In PDF format

    • In editable Word format

  • A meditation on the Sunday Gospel

  • A commentary to better understand the Gospel

  • A word for the road

March 24, 2024

Palm Sunday

Solemnity

and of the Passion of the Lord

Palm Sunday

Jesus, finding a little donkey, sat on it,

as it is written:

Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.

Here is your king who is coming.

sitting on a donkey's foal.

John 12:14-15

Readings from the Mass

Lectio Divina

Mass leaflet


Universal Prayer


CELEBRATION OF PALM SUNDAY

AND OF THE LORD'S PASSION

HOMILY OF THE HOLY FATHER FRANCIS

Saint Peter's Basilica

Sunday, March 28, 2021


Each year this liturgy evokes in us a sense of wonder: we move from the joy of welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem to the sorrow of seeing him condemned to death and crucified. This inner attitude will accompany us throughout Holy Week . Let us therefore enter into this wonder.

Jesus immediately astonishes us. His people welcome him with solemnity, yet he enters Jerusalem on a humble donkey. His people expect a powerful liberator for Passover, but Jesus comes to fulfill Passover through his sacrifice. His people expect to celebrate victory over the Romans with the sword, but Jesus comes to celebrate God's victory with the cross. What happened to these people, who in just a few days went from acclaiming Jesus to crying, “Crucify him!”? What happened? These people were following an image of the Messiah more than the Messiah himself. They admired Jesus, but they were not ready to be astonished by him. Astonishment is different from admiration. Admiration can be worldly, because it seeks its own tastes and expectations; astonishment, on the contrary, remains open to the other, to their newness. Even today, many admire Jesus: he spoke well, he loved and forgave, his example changed history… and so on. They admire him, but their lives don't change. Because admiration isn't enough. You have to follow him on his path, allow yourself to be challenged by him: move from admiration to wonder.

And what is most astonishing about the Lord and his Passover? The fact that he attains glory through humiliation. He triumphs by embracing suffering and death, which we, under the sway of admiration and success, would avoid. Jesus, on the contrary—Saint Paul tells us—"emptied himself, […] humbled himself" (Philippians 2:7-8). This is astonishing: to see the Almighty reduced to nothing. To see him, the Word who knows all, silently teaching us from the throne of the cross. To see the King of kings with a gallows for a throne. To see the God of the universe stripped of everything. To see him crowned with thorns instead of glory. To see him, goodness itself, insulted and trampled underfoot. Why all this humiliation? Why, Lord, did you allow yourself to be subjected to all this?

He did it for us, to touch the very core of our human reality, to traverse our entire existence, all our suffering. To draw near to us and not leave us alone in pain and death. To reclaim us, to save us. Jesus ascends the cross to descend into our suffering. He experiences our deepest states of mind: failure, rejection by all, betrayal by the one who loves him, and even abandonment by God. He experiences in his flesh our most agonizing contradictions, and thus redeems them, transforms them. His love draws near to our vulnerabilities, reaches where we feel the most shame. And now we know that we are not alone: God is with us in every wound, in every fear: no evil, no sin has the last word. God wins, but the palm of victory passes through the wood of the cross. That is why the palms and the cross go together.

Let us ask for the grace of wonder. Christian life, without wonder, becomes drab. How can we bear witness to the joy of having encountered Jesus if we do not allow ourselves to be amazed each day by his surprising love that forgives us and gives us new beginnings? If faith loses its sense of wonder, it becomes deaf: it no longer feels the marvel of Grace, it no longer tastes the Bread of Life and the Word, it no longer perceives the beauty of our brothers and sisters and the gift of creation. It has no other recourse than to take refuge in legalism, in clericalism, and in all the things that Jesus condemns in Matthew chapter 23.

In this Holy Week, let us lift our eyes to the cross to receive the grace of wonder. Saint Francis of Assisi, gazing upon the Crucified One, was astonished that his brothers did not weep. And we, are we still able to be moved by God's love? Why have we lost our sense of wonder before Him? Why? Perhaps because our faith has been worn down by habit. Perhaps because we remain trapped in our regrets and allow ourselves to be paralyzed by our dissatisfactions. Perhaps because we have lost faith in everything and even believe that we are mistaken. But behind these "perhaps" lies the fact that we are not open to the gift of the Spirit, who gives us the grace of wonder.

Let us begin again with wonder; let us look at the Crucified One and say to him: “Lord, how you love me! How precious I am to you!” Let us allow ourselves to be astonished by Jesus so that we may return to life, because the greatness of life lies not in possessions or self-affirmation, but in discovering ourselves to be loved. That is the greatness of life: to discover ourselves to be loved. And the greatness of life lies in the beauty of love. In the Crucified One we see God humiliated, the Almighty reduced to rubbish. And with the grace of wonder we understand that by welcoming the rejected, by drawing near to those humiliated by life, we love Jesus: because he is among the least, among the rejected, among those whom our Pharisaical culture condemns.

Today, immediately after the death of Jesus, the Gospel reveals to us the most beautiful icon of wonder. It is the scene of the centurion, who, “seeing how he died, declared, ‘Truly this man was the Son of God!’” (Mark 15:39). He was astonished by love. How had he seen Jesus die? He had seen him die loving, and this astonished him. He suffered, yet he continued to love. This is wonder before God, who knows how to fill even death with love. In this unconditional and extraordinary love, the centurion, a pagan, finds God. Truly he was the Son of God! His words seal the Passion. Many before him in the Gospels, admiring Jesus for his miracles and wonders, had recognized him as the Son of God, but Christ himself silenced them, because there was a risk they would remain at the level of worldly admiration, at the idea of a God to be worshipped and feared because he was powerful and terrible. Under the cross, now, there is no longer any room for misinterpretation: God has revealed himself and reigns with the sole, disarming, and disarming force of love.

Brothers and sisters, today God still amazes our minds and hearts. Let us allow this amazement to fill us, let us look upon the Crucified One and say to ourselves: “You are truly the Son of God. You are my God.”

Go up to Jerusalem, go up to Golgotha

Christelle Javary


In the Bible, one doesn't simply go to Jerusalem, one ascends to it. Certainly, the city is situated at an altitude of over 700 meters, but the altitude often carries a spiritual meaning: the Holy City invites one to a summit encounter with the Most High. This is precisely what awaits Jesus, in the paradoxical and scandalous form of his elevation on the cross. He knows that everything will culminate in Jerusalem, in both senses of the term: the fulfillment of his mission and the end of his earthly journey. No one is unaware that his enemies are waiting for the opportune moment to finally gain the upper hand: "The disciples were on their way up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were terrified" (Mark 10:32). Jesus, resolute, walks ahead, and soon he will walk alone to his execution. The crowd that acclaims him upon his entry into the city will demand his death. The complete account of the Passion shows us a general rout. The disciples flee when their master is arrested. Peter denies him, paralyzed with fear before a mere servant girl. We wouldn't have done any better, no doubt, but what does it matter! We too must rise and go up to Jerusalem, following Christ. The liturgy never admits spectators, even less so on this Palm Sunday, at the threshold of Holy Week. We are actors in the drama unfolding. As in Gethsemane, Christ calls to us: "Rise! Let us go!"


Drawn towards the heights


Last August, young people from all over the world "left their couches" to walk to Lisbon and turn, together, to Christ. The Pope gave them the example of Mary, who in the Gospels walks a great deal, always uphill, "because it is only by climbing that one reaches the summit." With his characteristic, familiar tenderness, he encouraged these young people to walk behind Jesus, "the true Friend who accompanies you all along the way, helps you overcome your fears, and leads you to the heights, to the peaks for which you were made." And if we fall along the way? God himself lifts us up. Jesus climbs to Golgotha carrying the weight of our cowardice, our denials, our sin. He carries them, he takes them away, he delivers us from them. With his last breath, he takes upon himself the worst of human suffering: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" This heart-rending cry reaches our darkest solitudes. It is still to his Father, even in silence, that the Son speaks, faithful to the end, eliciting from the centurion this astonished exclamation: “Truly, this man was the Son of God!” Raised on the cross, Jesus has now descended into the tomb, confidently awaiting the coming of Easter. All is finished, all is accomplished.

in Magnificat

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