Liturgy of the Passion (Year A, RCL)
61 results found.
The suffering of Jesus and Others (Palm/Passon A) (Matthew 26: 14--27:66)
Matthew's writing is terse. This hasn't stopped some from imagining grimmer details.
April 5, Passion Sunday A (Matthew 26:14–27:66)
The story of Jesus’ unjust trial and wrongful conviction must not be romanticized.
A letter from Paul to Christians in the US
Let me cut to the chase, brothers and sisters. Is this what you think living in Christ looks like?
The essential challenge of anti-Judaism in the Bible
Do antisemitic appeals to the Bible always constitute an abuse of scripture? Would that it were so simple.
by Greg Carey
The servant who perseveres (Isaiah 50:4-9a)
Isaiah’s suffering servant plays on our own ambivalent ideas about violence, passivity, and retribution.
The Betrayal of Christ, by Guercino
Art selection and commentary by Heidi J. Hornik and Mikeal C. Parsons
March 25, Passion Sunday B (Mark 14:1-15:47; Psalm 31:9-16)
In the hours before the Passion, the Jesus who was hidden becomes revealed.
The king of the Jews and the kin-dom of God (Matthew 2:1-12)
In Matthew, Jesus’ identity as king is the major source of conflict.
by Greg Carey
The many colors of betrayal
When does compromise descend into treason or apostasy?
Clash of cultures
Pontius Pilate shows us what happens when the historical and the eternal intersect.
Failing Jesus (Matthew 26:14-27:66)
Judas is hardly the only one who lets Jesus down.
What made early Christians a peculiar people?
“One second-century pagan critic of Christianity was willing to tolerate everything else about Christians if they would only worship the gods.”
David Heim interviews Larry W. Hurtado
April 9, Liturgy of the Passion
Isaiah 50:4-9a; Matthew 26:14–27:66; Philippians 2:5–11
The passion hurts
During Holy Week, it's common for worship leaders to ask people to consider their place in the drama of Jesus' final days. To what extent do we betray him, deny him, insult him, crucify him? When do we, like the crowds, find ourselves gawking at suffering with prurient glee? When do we, like the thieves, alternately ridicule the truth, then believe in it? When do we, like the centurion, make our confession--though perhaps a moment too late?