Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, along with Bishop Baker, Father Jerabek, and all of us at the Cathedral of St. Paul and the Diocese of Birmingham, we wish you a blessed Palm Sunday and Holy Week. We welcome our visitors from near and far, and in particular, those following us on livestream services. In a sense, this is the opening talk of our in-house retreat. I urge you to take some time to enter more deeply into the mystery of God’s love through remembrance of Our Lord’s Passion and death on the cross, that ultimately leads to His resurrection and victory over sin and death.

With palms in our hands, we began today with acclamations of “Hosanna!” ringing from our lips just like the crowds that greeted Jesus in Jerusalem. Then, ironically, from the swell of adulation and praise as we began this Mass, we have just now listened to the Passion where the sentiments of the crowds shift on a dime. The “Hosanna” shouted a short time later segues to a new cry: “Let Him be crucified!” In a matter of minutes, we moved from praise to betrayal, from procession to glory to procession to Golgotha and the crucifixion. May I suggest that that is not just the story of Jerusalem long ago? It is, in many ways, the story of the fickleness of the human heart from the very beginning up to now. Yes, it is our story, too.

The Gospel we have heard from St. Matthew places us in the Upper Room, where Jesus speaks words that are both surprising and unsettling. He shockingly reveals to them in the solemnity of the moment: “One of you will betray me.” And what do the disciples say? Not, “that can’t be true!” But, one by one, they increasingly tremble in asking the One they knew and loved: “Surely, it is not I, Lord?”

That question echoes across the centuries into this Cathedral of St. Paul in downtown Birmingham today. Don’t we, too, tremble and shudder to say it as we gather around this altar of the Lord’s supper every week with Christ at the center and hear Him saying: “One of you will betray Me!” And don’t we, too, respond haltingly and with voices cracking: “Surely, it is not I, Lord?”

Because if we are honest with ourselves, there are those moments, quiet, hidden, perhaps unspoken, when we, too, are tempted to hand Christ over. Not with silver coins like Judas Iscariot, but in more subtle ways. When following Him becomes inconvenient and interrupts the inner tranquility of “my way.” When His teachings about faith and morals challenge us not to settle for what the world offers or our own preconceptions. When His presence unsettles the choices and decisions we want to make because we think we are somehow smarter or wiser or more important than what the Lord is proposing.

There are moments when we distance ourselves from Jesus:

• When truth – moral truth or Christ’s teachings - becomes uncomfortable, uneasy, disturbing.
• When fidelity to Him feels costly and we don’t want to make an investment in a relationship with Christ because of new distractions.
• When the Gospel asks more of us than we are ready to give and we complain: we’re too young, too busy, too focused on our personal goals.

Like St. Peter, we may not intend betrayal. But under pressure, we deny we even know Him. “I do not know the man,” Peter blurts out when challenged. We remain silent. We look the other way. We change the subject.

And so, the troubling question of the Apostles returns to haunt us every year as we reach the crossroads during our Lenten journey: “Surely, it is not I, Lord?” Are we going to remain with Him or walk away.

Yet, today’s liturgy does not leave us stuck in endless worry and guilt. The procession with palms, the hosannas we sang and way of the cross, leads us into Mystery of God. It is the Mystery of an ineffable love that does not turn away or look away from us. He looks at us in our sinfulness, our betrayals, our denials, when we find it hard to look straight at Him and, instead, we avoid eye contact.

Here’s an element, a scintilla of hope! Through the prophet Isaiah, we hear: “The Lord God is my help … I have set my face like flint.” This is the voice of the Suffering Servant, fulfilled in Christ. He does not retreat, even when rejected.

And St. Paul reminds us in his moving Letter to the Philippians that Jesus “emptied Himself … becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.”

Why? Because He knows us. He knows our weakness. And still, He chooses the Cross, out of love for our destiny! “Not My will, but Yours be done.” He will earnestly pray to His Father.

He does not wait for us to be perfect. He does not withdraw His love when we faulter. Instead, He enters into the very depths of our brokenness and carries it. The Cross is not simply the result of sin. For some see the Cross as defeat. Others see it as the revelation of His infinite love and mercy. The tree was our downfall in the Garden of Eden. A tree will become the means by which victory on Calvary is guaranteed and won.

Christ is crucified not only because of us but for us to repair the sin of our first parents and restore our relationship with God.

This fact enters into the heart of Holy Week: even when we are tempted to hand Him over, He never hands us over. Even when we turn away from His gaze, He doesn’t turn away from us. Even when we run away, He remains on the lookout, waiting for our return. He remains faithful, waiting, inviting, eager to extend mercy.

And from the Cross, a new horizon opens - one filled with promise, hope, and redemption. As St. Paul proclaims: “At the name of Jesus every knee should bend … and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”

Ah! This is not a mundane, boring statement. It is an invitation. An invitation to let Christ truly be Lord of our lives, not only in moments of comfort, but also in moments of despair - not only in public worship, but in the hidden places of the heart.

So, as we enter this most sacred week, I invite you to carry that question with you, not in fear, but in honesty. Think about your response to the Lord’s words, “One of you will betray me!” Muster the courage to blurt out: “Surely, it is not I, Lord?” And when you recognize those places where you are tempted to let Him go, to turn Him over, to neglect Him, do not despair. Return to Him. Stay with Him.

Walk with Him these days and let this mystery embrace you - in the Upper Room, in the Garden of Gethsemane, along the road to Calvary, and finally, to the amazement of an empty tomb.

Because this week reveals something astonishing: You are not just part of the crowd. You are not just a nameless bystander in the Passion narrative. You are not unknown. No! You are loved, personally, deeply, and completely, by the One Who gave His life for you.

May this Holy Week help us remember His Passion with greater devotion. With all who belong to Him, we truly confess to the glory of God, not only with our lips, but with our lives: Jesus Christ is Lord! May God bless you all!