Reflections for Holy Week: 1 Palm Sunday - Pilate's Wife

From a sermon by St Gregory Nazianzen:

'We are soon going to share in the Passover, and although we still do so only in a symbolic way, the symbolism already has more clarity than it possessed in former times because, under the law, the Passover was, if I may dare to say so, only a symbol of a symbol. Before long, however, when the Word drinks the new wine with us in the kingdom of his Father, we shall be keeping the Passover in a yet more perfect way, and with deeper understanding. He will then reveal to us and make clear what he has so far only partially disclosed. For this wine, so familiar to us now, is eternally new.

    

'It is for us to learn what this drinking is, and for him to teach us. He has to communicate this knowledge to his disciples, because teaching is food, even for the teacher.

    

'So let us take our part in the Passover prescribed by the law, not in a literal way, but according to the teaching of the Gospel; not in an imperfect way, but perfectly; not only for a time, but eternally. Let us regard as our home the heavenly Jerusalem, not the earthly one; the city glorified by angels, not the one laid waste by armies. We are not required to sacrifice young bulls or rams, beasts with horns and hoofs that are more dead than alive and devoid of feeling; but instead, let us join the choirs of angels in offering God upon his heavenly altar a sacrifice of praise. We must now pass through the first veil and approach the second, turning our eyes towards the Holy of Holies. I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honouring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified.

    

'If you are a Simon of Cyrene, take up your cross and follow Christ. If you are crucified beside him like one of the thieves, now, like the good thief, acknowledge your God. For your sake, and because of your sin, Christ himself was regarded as a sinner; for his sake, therefore, you must cease to sin. Worship him who was hung on the cross because of you, even if you are hanging there yourself. Derive some benefit from the very shame; purchase salvation with your death. Enter paradise with Jesus, and discover how far you have fallen. Contemplate the glories there, and leave the other scoffing thief to die outside in his blasphemy.

    

'If you are a Joseph of Arimathea, go to the one who ordered his crucifixion, and ask for Christ’s body. Make your own the expiation for the sins of the whole world. If you are a Nicodemus, like the man who worshipped God by night, bring spices and prepare Christ’s body for burial. If you are one of the Marys, or Salome, or Joanna, weep in the early morning. Be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself.

First reflection - Palm Sunday: Pilate’s Wife

‘While [Pilate] was sitting on the judgement seat, his wife sent word to him, ‘Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.’ Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed.’’

[Matthew 27.19-20]

 

Let me be clear, my husband is not a nice man, nor a wise one. He is a career soldier and an administrator, there to impose the emperor’s will, and appointed to keep the people of Palestine under control. To stamp insurgencies as they arose, and they occurred more than you might suppose. Trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went in that land, but then he was often the instigator of that trouble, trampling over the religious sensibilities of the people.

 

Ours was an arranged marriage, and whilst I tried to love him, he loved his job more, and yet I cared for him. (Of course, I did, my own comfort depended on his position, no one welcomes the wife of a disgraced governor into their home!) But it was more than just duty or protecting my own position that caused me to want to care for him, he could also be vulnerable underneath all that bluster, sweat and armour. (Yes, I’ll admit it, I had come to love him.)

 

Our arrival into Jerusalem on that Sunday was an odd one. We’d made that journey before, but now something felt different, the atmosphere felt off, fragile even. There were rumours in the air that even I, in the midst of a military parade as I was, could not ignore. Whispers of a new King arrived in the city, rumours of trouble in the Temple complex.  And then there was the smell, the smell of crushed palm leaves and donkey droppings in the air … Something was definitely not right.

 

And then there were my dreams, (they had have always been vivid; hag-ridden, demon haunted, or so they seemed at the time). Even as a child they had troubled me more than they did other children I knew. But the ones I’d been having recently were more so than ever I’ve experienced. Something was warning me about this man, Joshua, or was it Jesus? (These Jewish names confuse me, they all mean something, they all have religious significance.) Something was telling me that my husband should steer clear of him, let him go on his way, that nothing good would come of his arrest and trial. Of course, he would not listen to me, he rarely pays attention to those beneath him, or to the religious authorities who plague his every step. But I had to warn him ‘stay clear of this man Jesus! Have nothing to do with him’, so I sent word via a steward. I told him, tell my husband ‘have nothing to do with this man, nothing good can come of this!’

 

And look what happened. We’ve been summoned back in Rome to face the emperor’s wrath, or so my husband tells me.