Sunday reflections

Fifty days after Easter we celebrate the events of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples who were gathered. They were alone, waiting and wondering. Jesus had ascended into heaven. Now, at Pentecost, there was the coming of the Advocate, the Paraclete, as promised by Jesus at the Last Supper before his death.

The Italian composer Giacomo Puccini wrote famous operas such as La Boheme, Madama Butterfly and Tosca. It was during his battle with terminal cancer in 1922 that he began to write Turandot, which many consider his best work.

We are still in the Easter season celebrating a new creation. But John’s gospel takes us back before the Easter event as we hear another part of the farewell spoken by Jesus before his death.

John’s vision of a new heaven and a new earth speaks of a time when sorrow, death and suffering will be no more. Some two thousand years later we might think that John’s utopian vision is little more than wishful thinking. Moreover, if we take the words of Jesus in this week’s Gospel – “You must love one another as I have loved you” – we can also recognise that Christians honour this commandment more in the breach than in reality.

The image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd tenderly carrying a sheep on his shoulders was one of the earliest images of Jesus in Christian art. It was found in the Roman catacombs, the ancient cemeteries outside the city of Rome where the early Christian martyrs were buried. It has remained a much-loved image of Jesus throughout the centuries.

This week’s gospel presents a scene so familiar that we can almost picture it happening on an Aussie beach. After all, what’s more Australian than a feed of fish and chips by the water after a long day?

Fear can be such a paralysing emotion. With its familiar twin, anxiety, it keeps us from acting or thinking constructively and clouds our awareness of grace. In this week’s gospel reading, the disciples are gathered in fear behind closed doors. They are terrified about what may happen next.

There was a Russian Cossack, who had two sons in the First World War. Their names were Peter and Gregory. One day the father received a letter from the front. Unable to read he handed it to his daughter.

The liturgy of Palm Sunday is designed to reflect the dramatic mood swing that accompanies the events of that day when Jesus was triumphantly welcomed into Jerusalem, only to face his rejection and crucifixion a few days later. On one occasion, I experienced the excitement, especially among the children, when a live donkey led the procession into the church. More difficult is the challenge of helping the congregation adjust to the change of mood as we read the Passion a few minutes later.

During Lent have we passed judgment on anyone?  On social media say, which thrives on it, or at home, at work, perhaps in church, wherever we find ourselves. Often, we criticise others so we feel satisfied we’re not like them, and as we do, we happily deflect attention from our own lives.