The evangelists were not chroniclers. They did not consider themselves bound by the precepts of fair and accurate reportage that, even today, are not consistently observed. This is not to say that they spun fibs, because the numerous similarities in their accounts of the Passion of the Lord make it clear that they were working with the same historical material. Almost any child who has received adequate catechetical instruction will be able to recount the main episodes—and often the result will be what is known as “conflation,” writing one story by merging the four accounts of the four evangelists. The result is that you have such a thing as “The Passion according to Franco Zeferelli” (one of my favorites) and “The Passion according to Mel Gibson.” But the evangelists were men of faith (as far as we can tell, we can discern no woman’s hand—although in Luke’s Gospel, particularly, women figure prominently!) writing for communities of faith, and they professed their faith in the narratives they wrote. Each Gospel is better thought of as an extended homily, rather than as a chronicle of events. Each—Mark, Matthew, Luke and John—is a consummate artist in his own way and what each produces is a portrait of the Jesus of his faith and that of the community, emerging from the fertile soil of the apostles’ encounter with the historical Jesus! And the Gospel we many times be found in the details of their narratives.
Preparing for his entry into the holy city of Jerusalem, Jesus commands his disciples to go ahead, to a house where they will find a tethered colt and an ass. And when the owner is to ask them what they think they are doing with his animals, all they are to answer is: “The Master has need of them.” More frequently, we are asked to ponder the meekness of Jesus who, rather than astride a horse, enters Jerusalem on a lowly animal. But the very answer Jesus prompts his disciples to give the owner—“The Master has need of them”—makes clear the messianic undertone: Jesus is asserting nothing less than kingship. Sequestering animals for transport and carriage was a prerogative of rules and conquerors, much like commandeering vehicles is a state prerogative under our laws. Jesus exercises this power. No further explanation needed —“The Master has need of them.”
“He to whom I give this morsel, he will betray me.” It was a very quaint way of identifying the traitor, but there was a message in it for all of us now. He who is fed by the hand of Jesus betrays him. And then, of course, one will stop naming Judas alone but think also of oneself, and all the nurturing one has received from the Lord, and rue all the betrayal and the perfidy. A variant of the narrative has Jesus saying “He who dips his hand into the dish with me.” The traitor is one who enjoys table-fellowship with Jesus. In those days, you ate meals only with people you loved, cared for and trusted. And Jesus identifies his betrayer as one who ate with him. Does that not mean me to?
Et erat nox…And It was night. This is what John says after Jesus identifies his betrayer and tells him to go about his dastardly business quickly. Judas left the room…and it was night. Treachery always brings nightfall. But it is also the nightfall of the world. Nocturnal, sepulchral, sinister: These are usually associated. But it was night too when the angel of death passed through Egypt’s streets, visited death on the first-born of the oppressors and passed over the houses of God’s people. It was night when the people of bondage became people of freedom. All that richness of sacred history and theology is suggested by that very brief remark: “And it was night.”
“Pilate brought Jesus out and sat [him] down on the judgment seat…” The ancient texts actually make possible two variant readings: first, that it was Pilate who sat on the judgment seat; second, that Pilate made Jesus do so. The first of course, is the more probable, but the accepted rule of exegesis is to prefer the more unlikely reading, because the more likely the reading, the easier it is to have been the result of emendation. On this reading, Jesus is really the Judge. And this is exactly how John portrays the Lord throughout the trial before Pilate. Even if it looks like it is Pilate, as governor, who is presiding over the hearing, it is Jesus who declares without equivocation: “My kingdom is not of this world.” Sino ang baliw? asks a Filipino pop tune. That is the same question John’s story of Jesus before Pilate asks: Who is truly the judge?
And when the moment of death comes, John writes “Et tradidit spiritum eum”…and he handed over his spirit. “Handing over” is not the same thing as “giving up.” In John’s theology, then, the moment of Jesus’ death is also the moment that he pours his spirit forth into the world—hands it over to a world parched by its own sinfulness. This is further dramatized by the flow of blood and water from the side of Jesus “struck” by a lance…a verb so reminiscent of Moses striking the rock from which water gushed that quenched the thirst of God’s people.
May the Crucified Lord bear all our pain and suffering with him, and make us walk with him in the path of the Resurrection!
rannie_aquino@csu.edu.ph
rannie_aquino@sanbeda.edu.ph
rannie_aquino@outlook.com