(Stock Photo – Canva)

By Richard Mantyak

My home parish during childhood was Sacred Heart Parish in the Village of Lebret, with family connections dating back to the construction of the church building in the late 1920s. Early in life, we became aware of the importance of attending Sunday Mass. I really did not fully understand why until I went through the preparation for receiving Holy Eucharist for the first time in the early 1950s. We were aware that Jesus is present at Mass, and it helped me understand how this occurs. Even though the language was still foreign to me, I now had a white Sunday Missal (with pictures) so I could better understand the parts of the Mass, and the tinkle of the bells alerted all that the Spirit had converted the elements into the Body and Blood of Christ.

In that era, an older brother, a younger brother, and I were still at home on the farm with our parents. Our three older siblings were off pursuing their careers. Across the lake from the parish church was the Oblate Scholasticate (closed in the 1960s), from which seminarians and priests would often be involved in the liturgies, particularly the Easter Liturgies. With chanting and a combined choir of seminarians and female voices from the RNDM Convent, experiencing these liturgical celebrations really was special. In those days of fasting from midnight to receive Communion, we attended the 8:30 a.m. “low” mass with no chanting or singing. Although the Easter liturgies were special, they were also longer.

This is how my “Pilgrimage of Hope” began. During the first years of life, we are under the guidance and tutelage of our parents, including their hope that their children will grasp and hold onto the faith they feel obligated to pass on to us. But then we are on our own, and it is up to us to hope God’s plan for us will lead to his kingdom at our end time. My commitment is based on Christ’s commandments of Love – of God and of neighbour. I also committed to Christ’s Gospel message of service when he says, “I’ve come to serve and not to be served.” Thankfully, in my waning years, I can journey on.

We know that each of the four Evangelists give an account of the Passion, but each tells the story with his own style and emphasis. The Passion account for Palm Sunday always is from the Synoptic authors, Matthew, Mark and Luke, depending on the liturgical year. That of St. John is reserved for Good Friday. The St. Joseph Sunday Missal gifted to me in 1963, has the 5th Sunday of Lent as Passion Sunday followed by Palm Sunday. Post Vatican II saw the Church combining the two Sundays, which we will observe on Sunday, April 13th, hearing from the Gospel according to Luke.

The readings chosen for this Sunday all touch on the idea of the “suffering servant” who, in the end, receives some form of vindication. The prophet Isaiah speaks of a “servant of the Lord” who was struck, faced the indignity of having his beard plucked and the ultimate insult of being spat upon. But in the end, this servant is vindicated with the help of the Lord. It delivers a strong message that a true disciple is one who perseveres in the face of adversity, dying to self. The psalm response says it all: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The author sees his adversaries as savage dogs casting lots to divide his clothes. Both are strongly suggestive of Jesus’ final journey. St. Paul alludes to the humility of Jesus in surrendering himself in loyal obedience, “to the point of death – death on a cross.”

Subject to both accolades and criticisms, the depiction of the Lord’s Passion in the movie The Passion of the Christ (2004) was the most explicit, violent depiction of the suffering Jesus endured during his ordeal. Movie producers make it easy for us. We can sit back with popcorn and have someone else project their version of Christ’s suffering for humanity.

Suffering on a screen is different from experiencing it first-hand. I was a goaltender during my high school years, and during one practice, a shot hit my left ear, severing my ear lobe. Stitches re-attached the lobe as well as closing a gash in the skull behind the ear. That Easter, I recalled this incident in relation to Christ’s suffering and, in particular, the thorns that pierced his skull and even Jesus re-attaching the severed ear of the soldier.

I thought about lifting bales of hay or straw, one after another, for the comfort of the livestock. After a time, the bales seem more burdensome, and one slows down and stops for a rest. Something I related to was Jesus having to endure the weight of the cross.

Ever stepped on a nail? I did! Several times, rusty ones, which caused infection, pain and suffering. Imagine the size of the spike pounded into Jesus’ hands and feet. All these inspire me to reflect on how Jesus Christ suffered multiple times more to pay for the sinfulness of humanity.

Physical pain and suffering come to all in every stage in life, but the pain of loneliness and abandonment is every bit as painful. The large crowds that cheered and hailed Jesus as king would, in a matter of hours, turn on him. Jesus knew the disciples would abandon him, and they scattered like frightened bunnies. As hard as Peter tried not to be, disputing the predication of denial, in the end, fear overcame him, and he too faded away into the crowd.

In life, I dare say that at some point, we all will experience abandonment. Relationships end; a best buddy becomes someone else’s best buddy. Ageism can come into play, or you are no longer valued in the workplace. Someone is not there just when you need that person the most. Jesus experienced all these things for us. Judas betrayed him. His disciples could not stay awake to pray for strength against temptation; he was left in agony to fend for himself.

In service to our parish community, for over twenty years, I presided at Funeral Vigil Services. Not so much anymore! For individuals who were not devoutly religious, Vigil Service G from the Order of Christian Funerals Book would be utilized. The title is OUR HOPE OF GLORY.

 As a message of Hope, I most often would end my reflection with the consoling prayer composed by Thomas Merton in his publication Thoughts of Solitude p.79.

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore, I will trust you always, though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Amen.