Sunday, July 5, 2026

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 100

See, your king shall come to you;
a just savior is he,
meek, and riding on an ass,
on a colt, the foal of an ass.
He shall banish the chariot from Ephraim,
and the horse from Jerusalem....

Pharisees and Herodians in Jerusalem, as well as the Roman authorities, must have taken the Lord's entrance into Jerusalem as a farce. Jesus, riding on a donkey, seemed to intentionally mock the procurator, chief priests, and authorities who controlled the city. They knew he could not take control of the city, much less of the Roman empire, despite the excited shouting of the mob. Their “Hosannah to the Son of David!” would have been comical if it weren’t so dangerous. The whole business was nothing but ridiculous, so far as they were concerned. Centuries later, we might use a gentler word like parody to describe his entrance, but it was neither farce nor parody. It was irony. Comedians sometimes use irony to talk about politicians or policies, or about American ways of doing things. They make us laugh at ourselves and might help us make good changes. The authors of the Bible often use irony in the same way. The Book of Genesis tells us how Adam whined; he said to God, “The woman whom you put here with me—she gave me fruit from the tree, so I ate it.” He blamed God first of all, and then his own beloved wife, for what he had done! His stupidity should have been very funny and very obvious to everyone; but for many centuries preachers agreed with Adam and blamed the woman! “He’s right!” they said; and by saying that they also insulted God to his face. Very often, kings, dictators, and tyrants cannot see the truth when it’s represented with irony. Because they have no sense of humor about themselves, their duties, or their power, they are emperors in new clothing; blind to the obvious while the world laughs at them. The scriptures use irony but they often take it way past humor; they point to mysteries that baffle our minds. We see them; we describe them; we teach others about them; but they are bottomless pools. We may apprehend their revealed truths, but we cannot comprehend them. The Evangelist Saint John was a master of irony as he revealed the Glory of God in the trial, crucifixion, and death of Jesus Christ. In his Gospel,

  • Pontius Pilate turned the tables when he forced Jesus to sit on the Seat of Judgement. The mob judged the Judge, and we heard them shout, “Crucify him.”
  • Jesus wore a crown of thorns and a scarlet robe because he is the king of the universe, although the soldiers thought they were mocking him. But we would not know him as our savior if he wore a crown of gold and silver.
  • Even his cross is a throne on which he sits. And from that high seat of agony and death, the Son of God sees and judges the entire world with compassion and mercy.
  • While the crowd mocked him as a criminal, an innocent man died to atone for human crime.
  • In the same Gospel, before his crucifixion, Jesus prayed, “Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.” (John 12:14)

The most horrible crime in human history, the murder of God, shows us the supreme Glory of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These truths are presented with profound irony, and we recognize them with the eyes of faith; even as the world mocks us and our religion. Our sacraments are also laced with irony. Mercy, justice, and wisdom look like a drop of baptismal water, a smear of oil on the forehead, a small wafer of bread and a few drops of wine. We bow, genuflect, and cross ourselves in reverence before them. We might not even notice how small they appear to the world.

These mysteries were as clear to the prophet Zephaniah as they are to you and me. He saw a vision with the eyes of faith and believed the truth, but he could speak of it only with a parable, as we heard in today’s first reading,

Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion,  shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem! See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass.

When Jesus entered the Holy City on a donkey, the wealthy and powerful called it farce, and so did the poor; because everyone agreed that it’s better to be rich than poor; it’s better to be wise than foolish, it’s better to be strong than weak; it’s better to be famous than unknown, it’s better to stand on your own than to need help from others. Without faith, no one sees what Saint Paul told the Corinthians: the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. They do not believe that the Lord God of Heaven and Earth “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life for the ransom of many.” (Mark 10:45) True power – the power of Almighty God – does not serve itself. True power – real power – has a supreme sense of humor about itself. It freely hands over any part of its power – or all power – as God the Father did to his only begotten human Son. Our God loves us, but he does not love or serve his own power. Jesus taught us that when he told his disciples, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father.” And in his turn, Jesus eagerly, joyfully, gratefully gave everything back to God when he prayed, “Into your hands I surrender my spirit.” When Jesus entered the Holy City where he would be tried, convicted, and crucified, he was stripped of all beauty, influence, comfort, and security. His only possession was a wooden cross. For clothing he wore nothing more than a crown of thorns and gaping wounds. And then the most helpless and despised man in human history entered the Heavenly Sanctuary where he begged Almighty God for our salvation. His Father did not laugh at his wounds or his humility; but He may have laughed with supreme joy because his Only Begotten Son, a man like you and me, has conquered sin and death.