And the crowd responded, “Let Him be crucified!”
What a sobering moment it is each time we read those words during the Gospel reading on Palm Sunday and Good Friday. This Gospel really helps bring the Passion to life. It helps us to envision the things that took place from the Last Supper through Jesus’ burial. The different voices and roles allow us to think about how some people defended and mourned with Jesus while others betrayed and denied Him.
The readings require the people attending mass to state those horrible words: Let Him be crucified! We say it not once, but twice. From where we sit in the pews, we can see the body of our Lord hanging on the crucifix. How can we look at His immense pain and suffering while simultaneously playing the role of those who demanded it to happen? We have all gathered here out of love for God, so how can we advocate for His suffering and death?
I’ve had several people tell me that they find themselves, year after year, incapable of saying those words at mass. It’s understandably difficult. But the unwillingness to say it, I think, isn’t as clear as we initially believe. So why is it that sometimes we find ourselves unable or unwilling to say those words?
The answer is deceiving. Our silence at that line can seem to be rooted in a love for Christ that is so strong that it prevents us from even reiterating the words that were once screamed by His accusers. But the reality is that the inability to say these words is often based on self-deception and pride.
The truth of the matter is that we all say those words every single day of our lives. We yell “crucify Him” when we neglect our prayer life, when we intentionally miss mass, when we push the boundaries of chastity with ourselves or with someone else, when we lie, when we take the Lord’s name in vain, when we judge others, or when we commit and/or cling to any type of sin.
The lack of desire we have to say those devastating words audibly and intentionally during the Gospel is natural. The lack of participation, however, is anything but natural. We like to separate ourselves from the sinners. We like to separate ourselves from the cross. We like to pretend we play the part of St. Peter when he says that he would lay down his life to defend Christ, when day-to-day we really play the role of Peter when he fell asleep in the garden of Gethsemane.
Are you asleep in your spiritual life? I know I have been. Most of the time I’m not fast asleep but rather just dozing off in a half-awake, half-asleep sort of existence. I find myself sleepwalking through the motions of going to mass and confession as if I’m sleepwalking my way toward sainthood. The Lord says to me as He did to Peter, “you could not keep watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” It’s an excellent annual wake up call.
I am not falling asleep on the Lord during His agony in the garden, but I am hitting snooze one too many times, which prevents me from making it to daily mass. I am choosing to scroll on my phone rather than praying the rosary with my wife. I am choosing my own rest and pleasure over the things that are pleasing to the Lord. The spirit is willing on Sundays, but the weakness of the flesh seems to overpower that spiritual willingness nearly all of my Monday through Saturday.
And that’s just in regard to the areas of my life where I find myself drifting into lukewarmness and spiritual sleepwalking. In other aspects, I am more like St. Peter in the outright denial of Christ. I fail to speak boldly about my faith. I place my own pride and fear for life, reputation, loss of friendships, etc. over my love of God and His call to acknowledge Him before others in Matthew 33:10, “But whoever denies me before men, I will also deny before my Father who is in heaven.”
During this Gospel reading, we must choose which role we see ourselves playing. We like to imagine ourselves as Veronica, the weeping women, or St. John, who courageously stood by Christ during his Passion. We want to be a hero in the narrative, but the Church asks us to put ourselves in the shoes of the villain. Because that is the part that we choose to play in our daily lives. The Church, like God, ultimately just gives us what we have selected for ourselves. Let Him be crucified. Who are we to resist the Church’s cooperation with our own self-selection by omitting those powerful, dreadful words?
The beauty in this painful experience is that God allows us to change roles. Through the cross, Jesus says that we, like St. Peter, can be transformed from a God-denying villain to one of the heroes of the story. This transformation, however, comes through repentance. That means that it isn’t a fruit of self-deception and pride, but rather one self-realization and humility. Our foolish human minds allow us to daydream about skipping the cross and heading straight to the glory. That’s not how it worked for Jesus and it isn’t how it will work for you.
Don’t allow yourself to just bypass this day. Enter into the passion and death of our Lord in a way that you never have before. Jesus was showing us the way to eternal glory when He made His way up Calvary some 2,000 years ago. Choose to follow Him.
Today, we play the role of the villain, so that we can better understand what Christ offered up to allow us a chance to become the hero. Don’t make a fool of yourself. Say those words. Feel their weight. And understand that it isn’t just during Palm Sunday and Good Friday that you can utter this horrific phrase, but that you state them each time you choose sin over righteousness. Say the words now so that you can be better prepared to avoid saying them with your thoughts, words, and actions in your everyday life.