Main news for 24 January 2024

Entering Jerusalem, Jesus weeps over its fate. He clearly foresees the city's sad destiny: in A.D. 70, after the anti-Roman revolt raised by the Zealots and the war that followed, Jerusalem will be razed to the ground by the Roman army sent to suppress the revolt. In the Middle Ages, and partly also in modern times, an opinion was widespread and popular among Christians that this catastrophe became a punishment for the Jewish people's rejection of the Messiah sent to them. Yet Jesus Himself looks at the situation differently. For Him this is above all a tragedy, a national catastrophe. He does not look at it as just retribution. For Him it is rather a rejected and therefore missed opportunity.

In the lives both of individuals and of whole peoples, there are crossroads at which the direction of further spiritual movement is determined and set for years ahead, if we are speaking about a person, or for centuries ahead, if we are speaking about a people. There is nothing predetermined here, no program written in advance, no fate or doom. On the contrary, such a crossroads is always a moment of highest freedom. A moment of that choice when the person himself or the people themselves choose and determine what later may look to them like doom or fate. The day of the Savior's entry into Jerusalem became such a moment for the Jewish people.

Of course, one can say that the enthusiasm with which the crowd met Him in the streets of Jerusalem was not worth much: the enthusiasm of crowds never lasts long. But the people did have the possibility of a choice, a serious choice determining further history for centuries ahead, and Jesus understands this perfectly. He also understands something else: like all such choices, this one essentially comes down to whether to follow God or one's own opinions, traditions, and habits. And the second option is always catastrophic. The only question is how soon this catastrophe will come. That it will come is beyond doubt: missed opportunities always exact a price, and the greater the opportunity, the more terrible the catastrophe will be if that opportunity is missed.

That is why Jesus weeps over Jerusalem. He understands as no one else does what has been given and what has been missed. And He also understands what the consequences will be.

When we read that our task is to imitate Christ in everything, we mostly take these words as a convention. This Gospel text can be read from that point of view. In such a situation a person either waves his hand in resignation and says, "That is how it turned out," or reaches open gloating: "There, we told you that you could not do this, that you had to do it this way; now suffer and be tormented."

But Jesus, "looking at it, wept over it." He is powerless to impose Himself; everyone is free to receive Him or not receive Him. But the result of refusing life with Christ is so terrible that God weeps when He thinks about it. This is not despair from powerlessness, but grief over the choice a free person makes. And this even though Jesus knows that such refusal will lead Him Himself to the cross in a few days. Yet He does not weep over that; He weeps over what the people chosen by God are casting themselves into.

Here is the utterly clear portrait of God: He created the human being free; He will die a terrible death because the human being chose to kill Him; knowing this, He weeps over how terrible the life of the person who made this choice will be. This is what He calls us to imitate.

The day has come of which the prophets of Israel spoke with fear: God has visited His people. From deepest antiquity people waited for this coming of God and placed all their hopes on it. Not only Israel, but many other peoples at the beginning of the first century of our era expected the appearance of someone who would bring them peace and open the way to life. To some degree even we, after two thousand years, have inherited this expectation and hope for God's visitation. The prophets proclaimed that the sun would be darkened on that day and all creation would change, sin would cease, and people would be redeemed from death. "Oh, that You would tear the heavens and come down!" exclaimed the author of the second part of the book of Isaiah. "The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes, leaping over the mountains, bounding over the hills", as the Song of Songs presents this day as a happy meeting of lovers.

And now He comes. A multitude of disciples, perhaps several hundred people, praise the great works of God and bless His coming. But right there, among the distrustful crowd, there are those who consider it necessary only to reproach Him for immodesty: "Forbid Your disciples to praise God and You!". And almost no one thinks about what He called for many times through the prophets: "Amend your evil ways, so that you do not perish on that day." Only His Most Pure Mother and close disciples are given to feel His sorrow. He comes, and even on this day we do not know that to meet Him we must stop doing evil and learn to do good. How should we meet Him, and by what can we deserve His favor? What should we do so that He will bless us and help us? "Seek good, and not evil, that you may live," He said through His messengers. But we think that we must perform certain rites and arrange splendid celebrations. As if this would serve for our peace and give us peace in this meeting with Jesus.

If He does not enter Jerusalem today, we will not be able to become partakers of His Body and Blood. If He does not give Himself up for us, we will remain prisoners of death. But His chosen ones do not recognize the time of visitation; they do not recognize that the expected and foretold day has come. And therefore Jesus weeps. Recently the Lord spoke in one of the passages about what His disciples should rejoice in. Today we understand what we need to fear: failing to recognize the time of visitation.