'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit'

The gospels tell us that Jesus prayed the psalms as he hung on the cross. Matthew and Mark record the opening verse of Psalm 21(22), 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' Scholars remind us that to refer to a psalm by its opening words is a way of referring to the entire psalm, and that we should imagine Jesus praying his way through the whole of it.

Likewise for another of Jesus' last words, 'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit'. This is recorded in Luke 23:46 as the last statement from the lips of Jesus, uttered as he breathed his last ('breathed forth his spirit'). It too is a verse from a psalm, this time Psalm 30(31), a prayer of trust in God's protection. Like 21(22), Psalm 30(31) speaks about the suffering of the one striving to be faithful to God and about the confidence with which he entrusts himself to God's protection.

There is one striking addition to it: Jesus adds the word 'Father' at the beginning. A moment earlier he prayed to the Father to forgive those who were putting him to death. In these statements from the cross, along with his promise to the good thief that he would be with him in paradise, Jesus practises what he preached, placing his trust in the Father's care and seeking to reconcile those who persecuted him even as he offered forgiveness to the repentant thief.

The psalms are the prayers of Israel and it is not surprising that they should be the prayers of Jesus for he is Israel. More intimately still, we glimpse the love between the Father and the Son which Jesus came to reveal to us, that responsiveness and attention to the Father that is the Son's existence and life and mission. St Thomas Aquinas says of the psalms that 'these prayers will for ever be the words in which the Father has taught us by His Spirit to pray for the one thing that He wishes to give us, which is His Son'. The sacrifice of Christ is rightly interpreted by the words of the psalms. We know that his sacrifice is the prayer of the humble man that pierces the clouds and in reciting the psalms we align our prayers with his, our desires with his, our existence and life and mission with his.

These last words recorded in Luke 23:46 open for us the heart of God. We come to see the love God is, a love of Father and Son in the Spirit. The disciples very quickly realised the implications of this for understanding who Jesus is. Not long after, St Stephen follows in the footsteps of Jesus. His suffering and execution parallel in many ways the suffering and execution of Jesus. All the more striking, then, that when Stephen comes to utter his last words what he says is 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit' (Acts 7:59-60).

Stations of the Cross

'In truth I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise'

Paradise Lost - and Restored

One of the thieves has just confessed that he is a sinner, justly being punished, and he has also confessed his belief that Jesus is innocent and is the Messiah (Luke 23:43). He has asked to be remembered by him as he comes into his kingdom. What is most significant here is not that he recognises Jesus as the messiah, sent by God – other such incidents have already happened in Luke’s gospel – but that he is the first to recognise Jesus as the messiah precisely in the midst of his suffering and imminent death. Again, it is not the first time that Jesus has told someone that today they have entered into the blessings of salvation, but it is the first and only time it is expressed in terms of being with Jesus in Paradise.

This is the one place in Luke’s Gospel that the word ‘paradise’ is found. Why use the term here? It is based on the Hebrew word for garden and as such harkens back to the story of the Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve communed with God, walking with God, peacefully enjoying God’s provision. At its centre was the tree of life from which humanity had, following their sin, been prevented from eating of its life-giving fruit. The Jews looked to a return to the blessings of Eden, of Paradise, and of eating of the tree of life again.

I think it is significant that in confessing his sin and his belief in Jesus, the thief is looking at a suffering man dying nailed to a cross, often referred to as a tree (eg Acts 5:31, 10:39, 13:29). He sees in this man his hope of salvation. And Jesus takes up the situation they are both in, with all its horror, and makes of it a reference to the return to Eden. In effect he is affirming and deepening the faith of the thief in a crucified Christ, inviting him to recognise that in looking at Jesus nailed to the cross, he is looking at the tree of life, and in faith eating its fruit. He has already entered into the blessings of paradise, enjoying the close presence of God, even in his sufferings. And of course, not only are sufferings not a barrier to receiving God’s life but neither will death be. Jesus assures him that after they have both died that very day they will enjoy each other’s presence beyond the grave.

All this indicates a Lucan theology in which God is already at work saving the world and being glorified on the cross and in suffering as well as through and after the cross. The crucified Christ is the gateway to Paradise. Death need no longer exclude us from Paradise, but embraced in faith it is the means by which we enter into the fullness of its blessings. The cross will bring us the blessings and life of Paradise, but we can already taste and enjoy its blessings and life in faith now. It is no longer the instrument of a cursed death, but is the tree of life.

Dominican Chant During Lent

Our brother Innocent Smith, O.P., of the St. Joseph Province, has prepared a thoughtful and reflective presentation about our Order's distinctive Lenten chants for Compline.

You can find more examples of the chants mentioned above on the Godzdogz YouTube channel where there are many examples of the Oxford brethren using these chants during the liturgy.

'Father forgive them for they know not what they do'

Today we begin a series of posts on the seven 'last words' of Christ. The last words of dying people are treasured and it is not unusual that different members of a family, or different friends, hold on to different things said by a dying person in the last days of their life. So we find seven words recorded in the Gospels. Matthew and Mark give us just one, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me', the opening line of Psalm 22. John gives us three - 'I thirst', 'Behold your son', and 'It is finished'. And Luke gives us a further three, 'Father, forgive them for they know not what they do', 'Today you will be with me in paradise', and 'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit'.

A traditional devotion of Holy Week is to meditate and preach on these seven last words and composers over the century have set them to music. The most recent such setting is that by James MacMillan, renowned Scottish Catholic composer and Lay Dominican.

Luke's three words show us Jesus practising what he had preached. The message of reconciliation, forgiveness, and trust in God's mercy which so characterises the ministry of Jesus in Luke's gospel finds its most powerful expression in his attitude towards his executioners, towards the thief dying alongside him, and towards his Heavenly Father.

The first of these words is 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' (Luke 23:34). How can we expect to be forgiven if we do not forgive, he had asked the disciples more than once. 'They know not what they do' is a reason he gives for this forgiveness. This can be heard on two levels: they are blinded by the agitation of the mob, the confusion of the situation, and the passion that has taken hold of their hearts. Some of those involved might have said they were 'just doing their job'. On a deeper level it refers to the divine plan which, unknown to them, is working itself out through their actions: they do not know it but their actions are contributing to the work of the world's salvation. We read later in the Acts of the Apostles that Jesus was 'delivered up by the definite plan and foreknowledge of God' (2:23). On one level he is put to death by the hands of lawless men. On another level it is a divine plan that is unfolding.

When we find difficulty in forgiving others we should remember the forgiveness of Jesus. We have all received it, and hope to receive it in the future. We have much for which to ask forgiveness, from Him and from each other. There is much to be remembered about those who have done us harm or have become our enemies, children of God like ourselves no matter how difficult it may be for us to love them. Jesus dying on the cross gives us his most powerful teaching about the love of enemies, in asking the Father to forgive the very people who were carrying out his execution.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

At some point all of us have to face death in some form: the loss of a loved one, a relative, a friend, or the recognition of our own mortality in the face of sickness or old age. We have all spoken words of comfort to those who mourn and, no doubt, felt that such words do not really do justice to the situation. Sometimes as we utter such condolences, we can feel the presence of a contradiction arising between what we see: death and grief, and what we profess to believe: the resurrection and eternal life.

Feeling helpless in the face of death should not surprise us, indeed, feeling a gulf between the unseen life eternal and the visible, tangible reality of death is no uncommon reaction. The grief that such separation brings is very real and we see clearly that painful reality in today's Gospel. Lazarus, a close friend of Jesus, is dead and Mary and Martha are mourning the loss of their brother as they face an uncertain future. Jesus enters into their grief and is moved by their plight, in fact he is deeply troubled by the outward reality that is death. What He does in the face of this death is quite astonishing and in raising Lazarus He gives the people a great sign by which they might know that He is the Christ.

But it is not simply in the action of restoring Lazarus to bodily life that we see the glory of God at work, it is in the way that he clearly shows the women and his disciples that He is the bridge between the seen and unseen, the visible and the invisible. He is the very real and true link by which our apparent contradiction in grief is removed. “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

Much of what we see in life is fleeting, we catch glimpses of events and people but the reality of what underpins these moments is much more precious. We can see two people talking or laughing together but the friendship or love which binds them to one another is much more compelling than the surface impression, it is something altogether greater and more powerful. We have to lift our eyes and raise our minds to appreciate such things, we have to try to see beyond what is fleeting to what is eternal. Christ helps us to do this in His very person as He did with the mourners at Bethany. Indeed, through His subsequent passion and death, He reveals to us all the reality of that which we cannot see without the eyes of faith. If we allow Him to show us the truth of unseen things, then the perceived contradictions between that seen and that professed , even in the midst of suffering and death, will be resolved in Him. Like Martha we will be able to answer; “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

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Lent Week 4: Saturday

Readings: Jeremiah 11:18-20; Psalm 7; John 7:40-53

In contemporary Western society many people are simply ignorant of the message of Christianity: they might have a few vague ideas about what it involves, but not the kind of knowledge that would be needed in order to recognise Christ and to make a commitment to living a Christian life.

Those of us, however, who have been educated in the Faith, who hear a sermon at Mass every Sunday (or perhaps even more frequently), have no such excuse: indeed, we can often run the risk of being like the Pharisees in today's Gospel. They knew the Scriptures inside out, and were experts in the finer details of the law: if anyone was going to see in Jesus the fulfilment of the prophecies about the Messiah it should have been them. Instead, though, they are so confident in their own interpretation of the Scriptures that they simply reject all contrary evidence and see it simply as a threat: 'this crowd, who do not know the Law, are accursed,' they say (John 7:49). And yet it is members of 'this crowd', not the Pharisees, who recognise him, saying, 'This is the Christ.' (John 7:41)

So also we must not allow our faith to become a dry collection of facts and practices, deprived of any actual relationship with Jesus, the Christ. How is this to be done, though? In a sense, this is the wrong question: it's not something to be done, but rather something we must allow to happen in us - the flourishing of the life of grace which was given to us in our Baptism. In place of the pride of the Pharisees, we must seek to imitate the humility of Christ who, as the prophet Jeremiah foretold, went to his death 'like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter' (Jeremiah 11:19). In that way, not only will we ourselves be drawn closer to Jesus, but our preaching of his good news to our society will be more effective, for it will not be our work, but the work of his Spirit dwelling in us.