Palm or Passion Sunday – Year C
This Sunday’s Readings
Gospel at the Procession with Palms
Luke 19:28-40
Jesus sends his disciples for a colt and then rides into Jerusalem.
First Reading
Isaiah 50:4-7
The Lord’s Servant will stand firm, even when persecuted.
Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 22:8-9,17-20,23-24
A cry for help to the Lord in the face of evildoers.
Second Reading
Philippians 2:6-11
Christ was obedient even to death, but God has exalted him.
Gospel Reading
Luke 22:14—23:56 (shorter form: Luke 23:1-49)
From the cross, Jesus speaks words of forgiveness and promises that the good thief will be with him in paradise.
The Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, also called Palm Sunday, represents the gate through which we enter into Holy Week. This is a time in which we contemplate the last moments of the life of Jesus. We recall Jesus’s entrance into Jerusalem, welcomed by a festive crowd, and then we recall his Passion. As early as 400, a procession with palms took place.
The liturgy is entirely characterized by the theme of Jesus’s Passion. This is true particularly regarding the Gospel texts which, according to the liturgical year, present the passion narrative. The first reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (the Song of the Suffering Servant, Isaiah 50), becomes a prayer in Psalm 22 with the refrain “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” The terror that Jesus bore in obeying the Father “to the point of death, even death on a cross” is attested to in the Second Reading from the Letter to the Philippians. This is not so much the celebration of “grief” and “lament”, as much as a week that expresses the “heart” of the Paschal Mystery when Jesus gave His life for our salvation. Jesus became man because he loves us, and because of love He gives His life. It is through this obedience that Jesus loves the Father and loves the men and women He came to save.
On Palm Sunday, we are offered an interpretation of our life and destiny. All of our sufferings and grief find a response in Jesus. In the face of every question regarding why there is suffering, why there is death, why there are so many choices that are incomprehensible to the human mind, Jesus does not give us vague responses. With His life, he has told us that He is with us, at our sides. Until the end. We will never be alone – neither in our joys nor in our sufferings. Jesus is with us. It is a celebration that is understood through silence and prayer rather than through words, so as to enter into it with the heart.
Vatican News
Who am I, before my Lord?
Pope Francis
This week begins with the festive procession with olive branches: the entire populace welcomes Jesus. The children and young people sing , praising Jesus.
But this week continues in the mystery of Jesus’ death and his resurrection. We have just listened to the Passion of our Lord. We might well ask ourselves just one question: Who am I? Who am I, before my Lord? Who am I, before Jesus who enters Jerusalem amid the enthusiasm of the crowd? Am I ready to express my joy, to praise him? Or do I stand back? Who am I, before the suffering Jesus?
We have just heard many, many names. The group of leaders, some priests, the Pharisees, the teachers of the law, who had decided to kill Jesus. They were waiting for the chance to arrest him. Am I like one of them?
We have also heard another name: Judas. Thirty pieces of silver. Am I like Judas? We have heard other names too: the disciples who understand nothing, who fell asleep while the Lord was suffering. Has my life fallen asleep? Or am I like the disciples, who did not realize what it was to betray Jesus? Or like that other disciple, who wanted to settle everything with a sword? Am I like them? Am I like Judas, who feigns loved and then kisses the Master in order to hand him over, to betray him? Am I a traitor? Am I like those people in power who hastily summon a tribunal and seek false witnesses: am I like them? And when I do these things, if I do them, do I think that in this way I am saving the people?
Am I like Pilate? When I see that the situation is difficult, do I wash my hands and dodge my responsibility, allowing people to be condemned – or condemning them myself?
Am I like that crowd which was not sure whether they were at a religious meeting, a trial or a circus, and then chose Barabbas? For them it was all the same: it was more entertaining to humiliate Jesus.
Am I like the soldiers who strike the Lord, spit on him, insult him, who find entertainment in humiliating him?
Am I like the Cyrenean, who was returning from work, weary, yet was good enough to help the Lord carry his cross?
Am I like those who walked by the cross and mocked Jesus: “He was so courageous! Let him come down from the cross and then we will believe in him!”. Mocking Jesus….
Am I like those fearless women, and like the mother of Jesus, who were there, and who suffered in silence?
Am I like Joseph, the hidden disciple, who lovingly carries the body of Jesus to give it burial?
Am I like the two Marys, who remained at the Tomb, weeping and praying?
Am I like those leaders who went the next day to Pilate and said, “Look, this man said that he was going to rise again. We cannot let another fraud take place!”, and who block life, who block the tomb, in order to maintain doctrine, lest life come forth?
Where is my heart? Which of these persons am I like? May this question remain with us throughout the entire week.
Palm Sunday 2014
Conversation between two dying men
Kathleen Rushton
Luke 23:35–43 has a significant two-verse dialogue between Jesus and another condemned person.
“With me”
“Then he (the wrongdoer) said: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus replied: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23: 42-42). In this exchange in Luke’s gospel we have the last words spoken by a human being to Jesus. And Jesus’ last words to a human being in his pre-resurrection life. How we treasure the last words of one we love.
The wrongdoer is the first person with the confidence to address Jesus in familiar terms for nowhere else in any gospel does a person address Jesus as “Jesus.” Elsewhere his name has qualifications suggesting reverence, for example, “Jesus Son of God” (Mark 5:7; Lk 8:28)) or “Jesus Son of David” (Mk 10:47; Lk 18:38). Raymond Brown describes the wrongdoer as having “disciple-like spontaneity.” Disciples are distinguished by their willingness to accept Jesus’ invitation and to follow him spontaneously. However, the wrongdoer does not wait for an invitation. He anticipates the words of Jesus to disciples: “Ask and it will be given to you.” (Lk 11:9).
This dying companion asks Jesus to remember him. And Jesus offers much more, for he not only saves but shows intimacy by including him as a disciple. At the last supper, Jesus says to the twelve: “You are those who have stood with me in my trials.” Because of this he promises them that they shall eat and drink at his table in his kingdom (Lk 22:28–30). Jesus promises the wrongdoer that he “will be with me.” Being with Jesus, suggests he will share more than Jesus’ company in paradise for like the twelve he will share in his resurrection. Jesus begins with “Truly (Greek text, amen) I tell… ” which gives solemnity to that which follows. Nothing can separate Jesus’ dying companion from God’s loving mercy.
Luke Adds Hope
Luke reshapes the abandonment and rejection of the execution scene in Mark’s gospel to one of hope and forgiveness. He inserts Jesus’ prayer of forgiveness (Lk 23:34). The people who stood watching are contrasted with the religious leadership who scoff, the mocking soldiers and the other wrongdoer. They deride Jesus with variations of: “Save yourself.” In contrast, “the other” (Lk 23:40) does not specify what “save” means. He owns his wrong-doing and acknowledges the justice of the punishment. His is the fourth acknowledgement of Jesus’ innocence (Lk 23:40; 23:14, 15, 22).
During his trial Jesus is clothed by Herod and his soldiers in “a splendid (white) garment” which suggests his innocence (Lk 23:11). The word lampros meaning radiating or shining is translated as splendid, white, elegant or rich. Australian scripture scholar, Michael Trainor, suggests that Jesus died still clothed in this garment — Jesus is “accompanied to his place of death by Earth’s wood and becoming transfixed to it; now he is clothed in Earth’s linen.”
Ancient Context
Luke calls those crucified with Jesus by a generic term meaning an evildoer, criminal or malefactor (kakourgos), which has an unambiguously criminal sense. We find this word three times: the two are led away to be crucified (Lk 23:32); they are one on his right and one on his left (Lk 23:33); and one of them derides Jesus (Lk 23:39). Mark and Matthew call them bandits or revolutionaries (lestai). Luke uses this word when Jesus protested at his arrest: “Have you come out with swords and clubs as if I were a bandit?” (Lk 22:52); when the Samaritan fell among bandits (Lk 10:30); and when in cleansing the temple Jesus accused the sellers of making God’s house into a den of bandits (Lk 19:46). Only John calls Barabbas a bandit.
Although crucifixion was used as punishment by many ancient peoples, there are very few descriptions and these come from Roman times. No ancient writer wanted to dwell on this cruel practice. In fact, the most detailed accounts are the gospel passion narratives. The frequency and the brutality of crucifixion as a tool of Roman oppression has been diminished by the tendency of Christians to theologise away its horrors, or particularise it to Jesus alone. This hideous form of execution threatened men and women. Men are recorded as being punished by crucifixion (defeated armies, piracy, threat to male leadership) and 22 cases of women’s crucifixion have been traced (violating the rights of a husband, sacrilege, child abuse, sorcery, extermination of a race/kinship group, punishment for abortion).
As Jim Consedine points out in his recent article (Tui Motu Sept 2016:4-5), prisons are a recent phenomenon. Punishment of offenders at the time of Jesus was in the hands of those who could impose penalties as they saw fit. In the case of crucifixion, the caprice and sadism of executioners were given full rein. The emphasis was on shame and public humiliation. Burial, an act of piety for Jews, was denied as the body was left for scavengers.
Re-membering
What does the request of Jesus’ dying companion mean for the Christian community today and for the condemned ones we call prisoners? Mary Rose D’Angelo says:
“re-membering conveys together the ideas of bringing what has been hidden out of the shadows of history, of putting together what has been dismembered and of making someone a member of oneself, of a community or the tradition in a new way.”
As death approaches, Jesus completes a final act of liberation which recalls his ministry declaration in the Nazareth synagogue: good news is given to a poor one, the captive is released and the oppressed one goes free (Lk 4:18-19). Jesus’ emphatic “today” points to now and links this incident with moments of salvation or revelation in this gospel story (Lk 2:11; 4:21; 5:26; 13:232–33; 19:9; 22:34, 61).
Holy Week: with “a heart as big as the world”
Romeo Ballan, MCCJ
The beginning of Holy Week, the great week of the love to its extreme consequences (Jn 13:1), this year is marked by the narration of the passion and death of Christ told by the evangelist Luke (Gospel). That Passion is not just a story of the past: the same events are repeated today. Yesterday’s characters (Caiaphas, Herod, Pilate, Pharisees, priests, Peter, Judas, the Cyrene, the pious women, the soldiers, the centurion, Joseph of Arimathaea…) are symbolic of what is happening today with regard to Christ and those who suffer, with whom He identifies himself (see Mt 25:35ff). Each person, each one of us may find him/herself to be, today, in good or evil, one or the other of the characters we meet in the passion of Christ. Today, each one of us may be, for instance, like the pious women who accompany Jesus in his suffering; or like the Cyrene, capable of carrying someone else’s burden; or like Mary at the foot of the Cross.
Three modern witnesses for the missionary world can certainly guide us in the understanding and celebration of the Paschal Mystery on which the Holy Week is centred. Their word is born from the personal experience of identification with Christ who died and rose again. So their witness has a universal echo: they help us to live Easter in the width and the depth that originate in the Heart of Christ.
“With eyes fixed on Jesus Christ”
St. Daniel Comboni (1831-1881), a missionary who worked intensely for the salvation of Africa, in the Rules for his Institute (1871), warmly urged the future missionaries to lovely contemplate Christ crucified so as to develop a necessary “Spirit of Sacrifice”:
«The constant thought of the great purpose of their apostolic vocation must engender in the students of the Institute the spirit of sacrifice. They will develop in themselves this most essential disposition by keeping their eyes fixed on Jesus Christ, loving him tenderly and seeking always to understand more fully the meaning of a God who died on the Cross for the salvation of souls. If they contemplate and appreciate a mystery of such great love with living faith, they will consider themselves blessed to be able to offer themselves, to lose everything and to die for him and with him.» (From the Writings of Daniel Comboni, n. 2720-2722).
“I am thirsty!”
The total dedication of Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta (1910-1997) to the missionary cause originated from contemplation of the words of Jesus on the Cross: ‘I am thirsty!’. Her attention to those who were lowest on the social scale was born in her through the desire to slake the thirst of Jesus.
«‘I am thirsty!’ said Jesus when, on the Cross, he was deprived of all consolation. Renew your zeal to slake his thirst in the pitiful features of the poorest of the poor: ‘You did it to Me’. Never separate these words of Jesus: ‘I am thirsty’ and ‘You did it to me’». (Mother Teresa of Calcutta: free translation from Italian).
Celebrate Easter with a heart as big as the world
This is the teaching of Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero (1917-1980), archbishop of San Salvador, killed while celebrating Mass in the evening of 24th March, 1980.
«Only the person who knows how to love, how to pardon, can celebrate Easter with Christ, and can bring to bear the greatest power that God has placed in the human heart: Love. The Church feels that its heart is like that of Mary, as big as the world, with no enemies and no resentments.» (From the catecheses of Archbishop Oscar A. Romero, Holy Week 1978).
Gospel reflection – Luke 22:14–23:5
Fernando Armellini
All the evangelists devote so much space to the passion and death of Jesus. The following outline and the facts are basically the same, though narrated in different ways and with diverse perspectives. Each evangelist then puts in episodes, details, underscores that are his own. These show the care and interest for some themes of catechesis, considered significant and urgent for their communities. Today’s version of the story of the passion being proposed to us is that of Luke. In our commentary, we will only highlight the specific aspects.
In his Gospel, Luke never lets the opportunity to emphasize the goodness and mercy of Jesus slip. He does so even during the passion.
Self-defense is the instinctive reaction in the face of an attacker who wants to kill. When given the news that, during a scuffle, a mobster had the worse and was injured, many rejoice and some people become sad if someone rescued him.
The reaction against the aggressor is spontaneous, understandable and, from the human point of view, also justified. In the Garden of Olives, the apostles did not hesitate to implement it. To prevent the abuse of power, violence, and injustice, the first thing they think to do is put the sword up. The phrase: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? In the original text is not presented as a question but as a decision: “Lord, we now have recourse to the sword.” And indeed, before waiting for the opinion of the Master, one of them goes to blows and falls off the right ear of the high priest’s servant (Lk 22:49-51).
Jesus intervenes and severely rebukes Peter for the rash action done. Then—and this is the detail that only Luke mentions—he takes care of the wounded and healed him (Lk 22:51). The message that the evangelist wants to give is clear: the disciple not only cannot attack anyone but is always ready to remedy the troubles caused by others. He also takes care of those who did and still continues to want to hurt him.
The Christian has opponents; he cannot not have because, like the Master, he has to deal—even the hard way—with those who make choices of death, deform the face of God, pursue an unacceptable project of man and of society. But the Christian has no enemies. The enemy is one who must be annihilated, crushed, humiliated, and eliminated. The opponent is not destroyed but faced to help him grow, break free from his bondage. Weapons are used by those who have enemies to defeat, not by those who, as the only mission, has to transform adversaries into brothers.
A little further on we find another touching particular.
As Mark and Matthew, Luke also says that, after denying the Master in the house of the high priest, Peter went out and wept. He alone notes that the Lord turned and looked at Peter (Lk 22:61-62) and he uses the Greek word emblepo (look inside) and not blepo (see).
Jesus’ gaze is moving: it is not a reproach, but a gesture of sympathy for the weakness of his disciple. We consider the outward action, the cowardly gesture, vile words of Peter. Jesus, as he usually does, looks inside, sees the heart of his disciple and discovers that he does, yes, a cowardly act, but deep down he loves him and remains faithful. Stressing this look, Luke indicates to Christians of all times how they should consider their own and their brothers’ fragility: they are looked at with Jesus’ eyes; eyes that instill confidence and hope, eyes that discover, even in the biggest sinner, a spark of love and help him to restart.
During the passion, the disciples do not make a good impression: Judas betrays, Peter denies, all others flee (Mk 14:50). The evangelists point this vile behavior. Only Luke seeks to attenuate the responsibility of the apostles. He does not mention their flight, in fact, he says that, on Calvary, “all his acquaintances stood at a distance” (Lk 23:49). He does not relate the reproach of Jesus to Peter: “Simon, are you sleeping? Couldn’t you stay awake for one hour?” (Mk 14:37). He also finds an excuse to explain their sleep: “They were worn out of grief” (Lk 22:45).
Luke is the example of the shepherd of souls who, while not justifying sin, he understands it, attributes it to ignorance, human misery that unites us all. He does not emphasize the mistake done, does not accuse because he knows that who is humiliated and ashamed, who does not feel welcomed and respected despite his weaknesses, ends up dangerously withdrawing in himself and makes any way to recovery impossible.
There were martyrs who died despising those who killed them and threatening on them the vengeance of heaven: “do not think that you are going to remain unpunished!”—says one of the Maccabees to his executioner (2 Mac 7:19).
The disciple of Christ does not know this language, no swearing, no cursing, no invoking of punishments against those who do evil (Lk 6:27-36). Even in the most dramatic moments he just says words of love.
This attitude is the only one compatible with that of the Master. He—says Peter in his letter to the persecuted Christians of his community—”did not return insult for insult and, when suffering, he did not curse” (1P 2:23).
In the passion narrative, Luke relates a phrase that every disciple has to keep in mind when he is called to bear injustice, oppression, harassment. Only Luke records that, moments before his death on the cross, Jesus still has the strength to say: “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk 23:34). He was not referring to the soldiers, intent on dividing his garments, but the real culprits for his death: the religious authorities of his people. Jesus did not limit himself to ordering his people to always forgive and without conditions, but he gave the example. It will be imitated by Stephen, the first martyr who, with bended knees under the blows of stones hurled at him, will cry out loud: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60).
We all know by heart the story of the institution of the Eucharist: we hear it repeated at every Mass. Perhaps not all of us know that only Luke refers to the Lord’s order: “Do this in memory of me” (Lk 22:19).
Undoubtedly Jesus wanted that the rite of the breaking of bread and sharing the cup repeated over the centuries by the Christian communities, but his words are not only an invitation to repeat his act liturgically. The “breaking of bread” for Jesus has an extraordinary symbolic value. In it he wanted his entire life, broken and given to people summarized and represented.
“Do this in memory of me” is an invitation to assume his own choice. Only one who enters into this logic of the Master, only one who, like him, breaks his own life for others can “break the bread of the Eucharist” with purity of heart. Otherwise repeating, the liturgical gesture is reduced to an empty ritual and, sometimes, even hypocritical.
What is the disease, the cancer that destroys our communities? It is the frenzy to occupy the first places to be superior, to dominate, to impose upon the other, to get privileges and honorary titles. It is this passion that provokes envy, criticism, gossip petty, divisions, and discords among Christians.
This disease is not of today. The Gospels report several unpleasant incidents, frequent and petty arguments between the apostles eager to define the priorities, to determine who among them was the greatest. They did not in any way accept the proposal of the Master to be small, to come down to the last place, to be at the service of the poorest, to become slaves of others.
How to make Christians understand that this teaching of Jesus is the fundamental law upon which the community is based? Luke has an idea: to present this theme at the Last Supper (Lk 22:24-27). Placed in this context, the Master’s words take on a maximum value: they become his testament, his final request. Therefore, they should be regarded as sacred and inviolable. Who of us would dare to not do what the father asks before he dies?
After the institution of the Eucharist—Luke says—the apostles began to scramble because each of them wanted to be first. Jesus then took the floor and explained that, in the new community, the authority was not to be understood according to the criteria of this world. What do the leaders of nations do? They have the power, they command over others, accumulate money, demand greater respect, claim privileges, personal aircraft. This should not be so in the Church! In her, the authority is the only service. Mind you: to serve does not mean to decide on behalf of others, to impose one’s way of thinking, to force others to do what one believes is right. This is still to dominate. To serve means to occupy really the last place, to respect, to dialogue, to understand, and to find for each a ministry to be carried out with joy for the brothers and sisters.
The term agony for us shows the last moments before death. Its etymological meaning, however, is different. It indicates the fight, the competition of athletes and it is used in the Gospel story in this sense.
From the beginning of his public life, Jesus was confronted in combat with the forces of evil—with Satan—and won. But the fight did not end after the first clash. Luke notes that “when the devil had exhausted every way of tempting Jesus, he left him, to return another time” (Lk 4:13).
Here, in fact, at the beginning of the story of the passion, the enemy returns for the final assault: “the feast of unleavened bread was drawing near … Then Satan entered into Judas.” The forces of evil are embodied in one of the twelve apostles and unleash the offensive.
Jesus, as every athlete before the competition, must prepare himself and Luke—more than the other evangelists—emphasizes how he prepares himself: with prayer. The story of the agony begins with the recommendation of Jesus to the disciples: “Pray that you may not be put to the test,” then he continues: “he went away a little further and kneeling down, he prayed… Having entered in agony he prayed more earnestly … Then he rose from prayer … And he said the disciples: Get up and pray” (Lk 22:39-46). An insistence on prayer which aims to indicate to all Christians how to obtain victory.
In this context, Luke introduces some significant details. He first says that “an angel from heaven appeared to give him strength” (v. 43). It is the effect of prayer. When the Bible speaks of angels one must not immediately think of spiritual beings who take human form. They often indicate a revelation of God that took place in the person. In Gethsemane, Jesus was tempted to escape and to choose different paths from those tracked by the Father. Prayer, dialogue with the Father, has made him understand the meaning, the value of his death. He asked the Father to take the cup from him and his prayer was answered: he was not spared from suffering, not taken away from death, but was enlightened and, supported by the Spirit. He gave his unconditional adherence Father.
Luke wants to tell every disciple who, so as not to be overwhelmed by the temptation, to overcome human weakness and fragility, need to pray “intensely,” as the Master. In the same context of Jesus’ preparation for the upcoming test, Luke, the physician, notes another detail: “As he was in agony, he prayed even more earnestly, and great drops of blood formed like sweat and fell to the ground” (v. 44). The traditional interpretation explained this as an effect of Jesus’ discouragement. But this does not make sense after the consolation given to him by the angel. The phenomenon (hematohydrosis)—known in antiquity—for the evangelist assumes a significance tied to competitive sports: It indicates the tension of the athlete in the vicinity of the race. He wants to tell us that Jesus is very concentrated, sweats, and is seized by trembling. He knows that he is going to deal with “a strong man, well-armed,” but he also knows to be infinitely stronger (Lk 11:21-22).
There is another episode that only Luke relates: Jesus’ encounter with Herod. He was the son of the famous Herod who, for fear of losing power, had ordered the killing of the children of Bethlehem (Mt 2:16). He was neither a shrewd politician nor a maniac like his father. He was only a weak, corrupt, a man with no personality. Several times he had heard of Jesus and the miracles he performed. He imagined that he was a sorcerer, a soothsayer, an expert in the occult arts. When, during the passion, Pilate sends for him to hear his opinion about the accusations against him, he rejoices immensely. He hopes to see some miracle. To him, however, Jesus does not answer not even a single word. Why? The emphases on Herod’s moods are significant: first he feels a “great joy” (v. 8), then, after the disappointment at not getting what he expected (v. 9), he goes to insult and finally to mockery (v. 11). The Greek word translated to insult really means: to destroy. For Herod who was only interested in miracles (Lk 9:9), Jesus does not count anymore.
Luke wants to warn those who seek Jesus only as a doer of wonders: they will not receive any response. They will not find what they are looking for because he does not lend himself to this game. Christianity is the place of listening to the Word, is the religion of love and the gift of life for the brothers and sisters, not the market where you can buy prodigies. Jesus calls those who think this way: “Evil and unbelieving people” (Mt 16:4).
Luke is the one who, more than any other, speaks of women who, during the public life, accompanied the Master (Lk 8:1-3). He is also the only one who says that, along the way to Calvary, Jesus meets a group of women who weep and beat their breasts (Lk 23:27-31). They are not responsible for what is happening, they weep for the sins of others. Stressing this particular, Luke wants to, once again, take up the defense of the weak, of those who pay the consequences of the sins of others. They are the men who, many times, create disasters, unleash wars, provoke violence and the women bear the consequences and cry.
All the evangelists say that Jesus was crucified along with two bandits. They were not petty thieves, but criminals who had killed people. Matthew and Mark report that both insulted Jesus. Luke instead tells the fact differently. He says one outraged him, but the other did not, indeed, he reproached his companion and, calling Jesus by name, asked him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The dying Lord answered him: “Truly you will be with me today in paradise” (Lk 23:42-43).
At the beginning of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus manifests himself to the shepherds: the last, despised people, the unclean of Israel.
Then he spent his public life among tax collectors, sinners, prostitutes.
At the end with those who die: not with the saints. Also at the end—it was to be expected—he is among those he most loved: the sinners. On the cross, he has beside him two unfortunate poor ones who have it all wrong in life. He came from God, completed his pilgrimage on this earth and now he returns to the Father. He returns with one who represents all people: a sinner regained by his love.
Fernando Armellini
Italian missionary and biblical scholar
https://sundaycommentaries.wordpress.com
