On the Passion, Third Sermon

Among all the works of God’s mercy, dearly beloved, which from the beginning have been bestowed for the salvation of mankind, none is more wonderful and none more sublime than that Christ was crucified for the world. For all the mysteries of the ages before led up to this mystery, and every variation that God’s will ordained in sacrifices, in prophetic signs and in the observances of the Law foretold that this was fixed and promised its fulfillment. So now types and figures are at an end, and we find our profit in believing accomplished what before we found our profit in looking forward to. In all things, therefore, dearly beloved, that concern the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the catholic faith holds and requires that we acknowledge that two natures met in our Redeemer, and that, while their properties remained, such a union of both natures was brought about that, from the time when “the Word became flesh” in the blessed Virgin’s womb, as the cause of mankind required, we may not think of him as God without what is man, nor as man without what is God. Each nature does indeed show its real existence by actions that distinguish it, but neither separates itself from its connection with the other. Nothing is lacking there on either side: in the majesty the humility is complete, and in the humility the majesty is complete. The unity does not bring in confusion, nor does the distinctness destroy the unity. The one can suffer, the other cannot be harmed; and yet the degradation belongs to the same Person as the glory. He is present at once in weakness and in power, at once capable of death and its conqueror. Therefore God took on himself the whole of manhood, and so blended the two natures together by his mercy and power that each nature was present in the other, and neither passed out of its own properties into the other. [a]

But because the plan of that mystery, which was ordained for our restoration before the eternal ages, was not to be carried out without human weakness and without divine power, each “form” does what is proper to it in communion with the other: the Word, that is, doing what belongs to the Word, and the flesh what belongs to the flesh. One of them shines with miracles; the other gives way under injuries. The one does not depart from equality with the Father’s glory; the other does not leave the nature of our race. And yet even his very endurance of sufferings does not so far expose him to a share in our lowliness as to separate him from the power of the Godhead. All the mockery and insults, all the persecution and pain that the madness of the wicked inflicted on the Lord, were not endured out of necessity but taken on of his own free will. “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” And he used the wickedness of his persecutors for the redemption of all in such a way that, in the mystery of his death and resurrection, even his murderers could have been saved, if they had believed. [b]

And so, Judas, you are shown to be more criminal and more wretched than all. For when repentance should have called you back to the Lord, despair dragged you to the noose. You should have waited for the completion of your crime, and put off your ghastly death by hanging until Christ’s blood had been shed for all sinners. And among the many miracles and gifts of the Lord that might have stirred your conscience, those holy mysteries at least might have rescued you from your headlong fall, which you had received at the paschal supper, when you were already found out in your treachery by the sign of divine knowledge. Why do you distrust the goodness of him who did not drive you away from the communion of his body and blood, who did not deny you the kiss of peace when you came with crowds and a band of armed men to seize him? But, O man whom nothing could convert, O “spirit going and not returning,” you followed your heart’s rage, and with the devil standing at your right hand you turned the wickedness you had prepared against the life of all the saints to your own destruction, so that, because your crime had gone beyond every measure of punishment, your wickedness might make you your own judge, and your punishment let you be your own hangman. [d]

So “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself,” and the Creator himself was wearing the creature that was to be restored to the image of its Creator. And the divine miracles had been performed which the spirit of prophecy had once foretold: “Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, and the ears of the deaf will hear; then the lame man will leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute will speak plainly.” Then Jesus, knowing that the time had now come for his glorious passion to be fulfilled, said, “My soul is sorrowful even to death,” and again, “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.” And these words, expressing a certain fear, show his desire to heal what our weakness suffers by sharing it, and to check our fear of enduring pain by undergoing it. So in our nature the Lord trembled with our fear, that he might fully clothe our weakness and our frailty with the completeness of his own strength. For he had come into this world from heaven as a rich and merciful Merchant, and by a wonderful exchange had made a bargain of salvation with us, taking what was ours and giving what was his: honor for insults, salvation for pain, life for death. And he whom more than twelve thousand of the angel hosts might have served for the destruction of his persecutors preferred to take on our fears rather than use his own power. [f]

How much this humiliation did for all the faithful, the most blessed apostle Peter was the first to prove. After the fierce blast of threatening cruelty had dismayed him, he quickly changed and was restored to strength, finding his remedy in the great Pattern, so that the suddenly shaken member returned to the firmness of the Head. For the servant could not be “greater than the Lord, nor the disciple greater than the master,” and he could not have overcome the trembling of human frailty had not the Conqueror of death first felt fear. So the Lord “looked back at Peter,” and amid the slanders of the priests, the lies of the witnesses, and the injuries of those who flogged him and spat on him, he met his dismayed disciple with the eyes with which he had foreseen his dismay. And the gaze of the Truth entered into him, in whose heart correction had to be worked, as if the Lord’s voice were making itself heard there and saying: “Where are you going, Peter? Why are you withdrawing into yourself? Turn to me, put your trust in me, follow me. This is the time of my passion; the hour of your suffering has not yet come. Why are you afraid of what you too will overcome? Do not let the weakness I share confound you. I was fearful for your sake; you be confident in me.” [i]

“And when morning came, all the chief priests and elders of the people took counsel against Jesus to put him to death.” This morning, you Jews, was for you not the rising but the setting of the sun. The usual daylight did not visit your eyes, but a night of blackest darkness brooded over your wicked hearts. This morning overthrew for you the temple and its altars, did away with the Law and the Prophets, destroyed the kingdom and the priesthood, and turned all your feasts into everlasting mourning. For you resolved on a mad and bloody plan, you “fat bulls,” you “many oxen,” you “roaring” wild beasts, you rabid “dogs”: to hand over to death the Author of life and the Lord of glory. And as if the enormity of your fury could be excused by using the verdict of the man who governed your province, you led Jesus bound to Pilate’s judgment, so that, with the terrified judge overcome by your persistent shouting, you might choose a murderer for pardon and demand the crucifixion of the Savior of the world. Christ was condemned more by the cowardice of Pilate than by his power: with washed hands but a polluted mouth, Pilate sent Jesus to the cross with the very lips that had pronounced him innocent. After this the unchecked people, obedient to the looks of the priests, heaped many insults on the Lord, and the frenzied mob vented its rage on him, who meekly and willingly endured it all. But because, dearly beloved, the whole story is too long to go through today, let us put off the rest until Wednesday, when the reading of the Lord’s passion will be repeated. For the Lord will grant to your prayers that by his own free gift we may fulfill our promise, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen. [j]