Reflection for March 29, 2026

​Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion (A)

Isaiah 50:4-7 | Psalm 22:8-9, 17-18, 19-20, 23-24 | Philippians 2:6-11 | Matthew 26:14—27:66 or 27:11-54

​Today, we’re entering the most solemn week of our liturgical year. The readings invite us to reflect on Jesus’ journey to the Resurrection through the Cross. Let’s pray for patient endurance, humility, and discernment. 

​The story of Fr. Matthew Chu Li-teh SJ is a powerful witness to patient endurance. Arrested in Shanghai for the simple act of preaching Christ, he was thrown into prison—his only “crime” was faithfulness. His trial was nothing but a formality, a hollow imitation of justice, and he was sentenced to 27 long years behind bars. Yet he did not grow bitter. He did not lose heart. In the silence of suffering, he chose to remain steadfast. Within those prison walls, something extraordinary happened. Through quiet courage and enduring faith, he continued to share Christ. Prisoners listened. Even jailers began to ask questions. Hearts were stirred—not by force, but by the gentle power of a life that refused to give up on God. After 27 years, he emerged not defeated, but fulfilled. He wrote, “Both prisoners and jailers asked many questions… God was better served by our presence in prison than if we had been free.” It was not resistance, but patient endurance that opened souls. His suffering became a doorway—through which many came to know God.

The first reading shows us a servant who remains faithful even when rejected, insulted, and hurt. He listens to God, speaks the truth, and refuses to turn away from his mission—even when it costs him everything. This is the heart of patient endurance. It’s natural for us to want revenge when we are hurt. When people mistreat us, our first instinct is often to fight back, to prove ourselves, or to get even. But the servant in Isaiah shows a different way. He does not resist violence with violence. He accepts suffering without losing his identity, his purpose, or his trust in God. His strength comes not from overpowering others, but from remaining anchored in truth. Patient endurance, then, is not weakness. It is quiet courage. It is the ability to stand firm in what is right, even when misunderstood or wounded. It is trusting that God sees, that God knows, and that God will vindicate in His time. In our own lives, we may face criticism, rejection, or unfair treatment. These moments become opportunities—not for retaliation—but for transformation. When we endure patiently, we allow God to shape our hearts, purify our intentions, and lead us closer to Him.

A young climber once asked his guide how to reach the summit safely. The guide replied, “When the mountain grows steeper, don’t lift your head too high—lower your stance, lean in, and stay close to the ground. Pride makes you lose balance.” At first, the climber resisted. He wanted to stand tall, to prove his strength. But the higher he went, the stronger the winds became. One misstep nearly sent him falling. So he followed the guide’s advice—he bent low, moved carefully, and trusted each step. When he reached the summit, he realized the truth: the higher you go, the more you must bow down and  humble yourself. So it is with life. Like Christ in His self-emptying, true greatness is not in lifting ourselves up, but in lowering ourselves in love and obedience. Your altitude is not determined by your aptitude, but by your attitude.

Our second reading reveals the depth of Christ’s humility. Though He was truly God, deserving of all honor and glory, Jesus chose to empty Himself and become a servant. He embraced our humanity fully—even to the point of suffering and death. This was not weakness, but a deliberate act of love. Humanity fell through pride. Like our first parents, we are often tempted to rely on ourselves, to assert our own importance, and to forget our need for God. But Jesus, the New Adam, offers the antidote: humility. Through His obedience, He reverses the damage of pride and opens for us the path to salvation. On Palm Sunday, we see this humility in action. The King of Heaven enters Jerusalem, not in power and grandeur, but in simplicity and meekness. He comes not to be served, but to serve and to save. The message is clear: the way to life is not self-exaltation, but surrender. True greatness is found in recognizing our dependence on God. Like the crowds, we cry out with faith and trust: “Hosanna! Lord, come save your people!”

At a meeting of the Mother Butler’s Guild, the ladies were passionately debating: who was the better Miss Universe representative—Catriona Gray or Pia Wurtzbach? They admired intelligence, eloquence, advocacy, and grace. “It’s not enough to be beautiful,” one said. “She must have substance!” Just then, one stood up. “I’ll just drop by the barangay—Mayor Ramon ‘Boy’ Makisig is giving out groceries. I’m voting for him again. He gives every December!” Another replied, “Oh no, not me! I’ll vote for Mayor Carlo Reyes. He used to be an actor—so handsome. Perfect for the position!” A third shared, “My son is struggling to apply at a drugstore—he needs a college degree and NBI clearance.” Her friend laughed, “Then let him run for senator! No degree, no clearance needed!” They all laughed—missing the point. We set the highest standards for beauty queens, yet elect leaders with far less. How easily we choose Barabbas, while truth stands before us.

In the Passion, we witness a tragic failure of discernment. Faced with a choice between Jesus and Barabbas, the crowd chose wrongly. Barabbas—“son of the father”—represents each of us: guilty, flawed, and undeserving. Yet he was set free, while Jesus, the innocent Son, took his place. This moment reveals how easily we can misjudge what is truly good. Like the crowd, we are often swayed by noise, emotion, or convenience rather than truth. Poor discernment leads us to choose what is harmful, even when goodness stands right before us. Yet there is hope. Even in our wrong choices, Jesus steps in. He takes on our guilt, our consequences, and offers us freedom we did not earn. This is mercy beyond measure. The call, then, is clear: learn to choose wisely. In our daily decisions—big or small—let us not repeat the mistake of the crowd. Instead, let us choose Christ, who always chooses us first.

<enrique,ofs>