The Fifth Sunday of Lent, also known as Passion Sunday, marks the beginning of Passiontide, intensifying the focus on Christ's impending suffering and death as the faithful journey towards the Paschal Mystery.
The Fifth Sunday of Lent, traditionally known as Passion Sunday, serves as a pivotal point in the liturgical calendar, initiating Passiontide, the final two weeks of the Lenten season. This Sunday shifts the faithful's attention more profoundly towards the imminent Passion and death of Jesus Christ, foreshadowing the salvific events of Holy Week. In salvation history, it underscores the voluntary nature of Christ's sacrifice and His divine authority, as the Gospel readings often highlight growing opposition to Him and His identity, preparing believers for the profound mystery of His suffering, death, and resurrection, which are central to humanity's redemption. This period encourages deeper reflection on the cost of salvation and the profound love demonstrated by Christ's offering.
The Fifth Sunday of Lent, observed on April 6, 2025, marks a significant turning point in the liturgical calendar, signaling the commencement of what is traditionally known as Passiontide. This two-week period, comprising the Fifth Sunday of Lent and Holy Week, intensifies the Church's focus on the impending suffering and death of Jesus Christ. While the entire Lenten season is a journey of repentance and preparation for Easter, the Fifth Sunday shifts the spiritual atmosphere, moving from a general focus on conversion to a more specific and profound contemplation of Christ's ultimate sacrifice. It is often referred to as Passion Sunday, a title that vividly conveys its primary theme and prepares the faithful for the solemn events of Holy Week, inviting them to walk ever more closely with Christ on His path to Calvary, thus underscoring the gravity and purpose of His redemptive journey. This transition is designed to deepen the spiritual readiness of believers as they approach the Paschal Mystery.
Historically, the Fifth Sunday of Lent held an even more distinct character, marking the formal beginning of Passiontide, a period set apart from the preceding weeks of Lent. Before the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council, this Sunday was explicitly called "Passion Sunday," and the subsequent two weeks formed a distinct liturgical season. A prominent tradition associated with Passiontide, which continues in some form today, is the veiling of crosses and statues in churches. This practice, often done after the Gloria Patri at the conclusion of the Vesper service on the Saturday evening before the Fifth Sunday of Lent, served to emphasize the somber nature of the season. The veiling symbolized the hiding of Christ's divinity and glory as He entered more deeply into His Passion, focusing the congregation's attention solely on the mystery of His suffering and death. This tradition, rooted in centuries of liturgical practice, aimed to strip away distractions and foster a spirit of profound reverence and sorrow, preparing hearts for the unveiling of the Risen Christ on Easter.
The liturgical readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent are carefully chosen to reflect this intensified focus on Christ's Passion and His salvific mission. While the specific Gospel reading varies across the three-year lectionary cycle, each selection progressively reveals the growing opposition to Jesus and His divine authority, foreshadowing His ultimate sacrifice. In Year A, the Gospel of John 11 recounts the raising of Lazarus, a miracle that provokes the Jewish authorities to plot Jesus' death, highlighting His power over life and death and the escalating conflict. In Year B, the Gospel of John 12 presents Jesus' teaching about the grain of wheat that must fall to the earth and die to produce much fruit, profoundly illustrating the necessity of His death for new life and redemption. For Year C, the Gospel of John 8:1-11, detailing the woman caught in adultery, emphasizes Christ's mercy while also showcasing the escalating tension with His accusers. These readings collectively invite the faithful to confront the reality of Christ's impending suffering and to understand its profound redemptive purpose.
The theological meaning of the Fifth Sunday of Lent is deeply intertwined with the Paschal Mystery, which encompasses Christ's Passion, death, and Resurrection. This Sunday serves as a crucial bridge, drawing believers into a more intimate understanding of the voluntary nature of Christ's suffering. It is not merely a historical event but the central act of salvation history, where God, in His infinite love, offers His only Son as a propitiation for the sins of humanity. The readings and the somber liturgical atmosphere emphasize that Christ's Passion was not an accident but a deliberate act of obedience to the Father's will, undertaken out of boundless love for mankind. Through His suffering and death, Jesus conquers sin and death, opening the way to eternal life. This period encourages profound reflection on the immense cost of salvation and the depth of divine love poured out on the Cross, inviting a response of gratitude, repentance, and renewed commitment.
For the faithful, the Fifth Sunday of Lent presents a powerful call to intensified spiritual preparation and a deeper embrace of Lenten disciplines. Having journeyed through several weeks of repentance, fasting, and prayer, this Sunday urges believers to internalize the meaning of Christ's Passion more acutely. It is a time for serious introspection, examining one's own sins and failures in light of Christ's perfect sacrifice. The somber tone of the liturgy and the veiled images serve as visual reminders to detach from worldly distractions and focus on the spiritual realities of sin, suffering, and redemption. This period encourages a more fervent commitment to prayer, acts of charity, and self-denial, not as ends in themselves, but as means to unite oneself more closely with Christ's redemptive work. It is a final, urgent invitation to conversion before entering the profound solemnity of Holy Week, preparing hearts to truly participate in the death and Resurrection of the Lord.
Today, the Fifth Sunday of Lent continues to hold its vital place in the Church's liturgical year, serving as an indispensable preparation for the climactic events of Holy Week. While the explicit naming of "Passion Sunday" has largely been absorbed into the broader "Fifth Sunday of Lent," its theological essence remains unchanged. Many parishes still observe the tradition of veiling crosses and statues, a powerful visual catechesis that underscores the gravity of Christ's Passion. The focus on Christ's suffering, His self-giving love, and the redemptive power of His death remains central to the liturgical celebration. This Sunday effectively bridges the initial weeks of Lent, which focus on personal conversion, with the dramatic and salvific events of the Triduum. It calls every believer to journey with Christ, to contemplate the mystery of His Passion, and to prepare their hearts to celebrate the triumph of His Resurrection, thereby drawing ever closer to the heart of Christian faith and the promise of eternal life, fulfilling the Lenten journey's ultimate purpose of spiritual renewal and profound encounter with the Risen Lord.
In the hushed twilight of the Saturday evening before the Fifth Sunday of Lent, a profound stillness settled upon the ancient stone church of St. Michael's. For weeks, the Lenten purple had adorned the altar, a somber hue, but now, a deeper, more poignant transformation was about to begin. Young Thomas, barely an altar server for a year, watched with wide, curious eyes as Father Michael, assisted by old Mrs. O’Malley, the sacristan whose hands knew every fold of the church’s linens, began the solemn ritual.
First, the crucifix, usually so prominent above the altar, was carefully draped in a large sheet of deep purple. Thomas felt a pang of surprise; it was as if Christ Himself was being hidden from view. Then, one by one, the statues – Our Lady, St. Joseph, the patron St. Michael – were similarly veiled. The vibrant colors of their robes, the gentle expressions on their faces, all disappeared beneath the uniform, mournful purple. The church, once alive with the familiar faces of the saints, now felt stripped bare, stark, and strangely empty.
After the final statue was covered, Father Michael turned to the small group of parishioners who had gathered, their faces reflecting a mixture of understanding and quiet awe. “My dear children,” he began, his voice soft but resonant in the suddenly quiet space, “from this moment, as we enter Passiontide, we veil the sacred images. Why do we do this? Is it to hide their beauty? No. It is to focus our hearts, to strip away distractions, so that our gaze may be fixed solely on the suffering Christ.”
He continued, explaining that in ancient times, the veiling symbolized the hiding of Christ's divinity as He willingly entered His Passion, allowing His humanity to bear the full weight of sin. It was a sign of mourning, a shared sorrow with the Church, as she contemplated the immense sacrifice that was soon to unfold. “We hide the glory,” Father Michael said, “so that when Easter comes, and the veils are removed, the Risen Christ will burst forth with renewed brilliance, and His glory will be all the more breathtaking because we have first walked with Him in His deepest suffering.”
Thomas, though young, felt the weight of the words. The church, once merely a building, now felt like a shared tomb, a place of profound anticipation. The absence of the familiar images was not an emptiness but a presence – the palpable presence of Christ’s impending Passion. The veiling was not about hiding, but about revealing, about drawing the community into a deeper, more intimate participation in the mystery of salvation. It was a stark reminder that the journey to resurrection must pass through the shadow of the cross, and that true spiritual sight often comes from a temporary blindness to the familiar, allowing the soul to see with new eyes the ultimate sacrifice.
March 21, 2021
In today’s Gospel, some Greeks approach Philip and Andrew with a request: “We wish to see Jesus” (Jn 12:21). To see Jesus. They too were driven by curiosity, for they had heard about him, but also by something more: by a desire, awakened by the Holy Spirit, to discover what he was truly about. The verb “to see” in the Gospel can have different meanings. It can mean to look, to perceive, as everyone does, but it can also mean to understand, to comprehend, as when we say: “Do you see?” In the language of faith, it means more: to have an experience of the Lord. The Greeks, then, by saying “we wish to see Jesus”, meant: We wish to experience Jesus. We wish to experience something that comes from him.
This same desire is present in the hearts of many people today, who often do not attend church but whose hearts are thirsting for God and secretly desire to see Jesus. The responsibility of us Christians, and especially of us bishops, priests and deacons, of catechists and all who are active in the Church, is to become like Philip and Andrew, and to put ourselves at the service of that desire, so that these people can encounter Jesus, not in a superficial way, but by experiencing him as the way, the truth and the life (cf. Jn 14:6).
What is the response of Jesus to this request to see him? A surprising response. He says: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” (Jn 12:23-24). These words are not easily understood. The Paschal Mystery is what Jesus is talking about. His passion, his death and his resurrection. This is the only way to see him, and to bring forth fruit.
Indeed, the grain of wheat is a beautiful image. A seed that falls to the earth. It is not afraid to die, that is, to be consumed, to give itself, in order to generate new life. It is consumed in order to be transformed into bread, and thus to nourish other creatures. We see this in the Eucharist. The Lord takes the bread, and it is the fruit of the grain of wheat that has fallen to the earth and died. He blesses it and says: “Take and eat, this is my body.”
Jesus lived like a grain of wheat: he scattered himself, he let himself “be eaten” by death, in order to bear fruit, and thus to become bread for all of us. He gave himself completely, and continues to do so daily in the Eucharist, in word and in his presence in the poor and the sick. From his death, life sprang forth for all. From his humiliation, glorification.
This act of Jesus is a universal offering. He fell to the earth and died for everyone. For each and every one of us. So that life might be born from his death, and salvation for everyone. He became a servant, and thus became Lord. Jesus is the only way. He is the only model. He is the only grain of wheat that falls to the earth and dies in order to give life to all. And he did it for you, for me, for everyone. He did it for everyone.
What does this mean for us? We are called to be grains of wheat and to fall to the earth: to be consumed, to “lose our lives”, in order to have a fruitful life. To lose our lives means to empty ourselves of our selfishness, to renounce our worldly attachments. To serve, to be available to God and to others. To sow the Gospel in the furrows of daily life, in concrete situations, not in beautiful ideas, but in concrete situations: in the family, at work, in the parish, at school, everywhere. If we cling to our possessions, we will not bear fruit. If we sow generously, we will receive a hundredfold. For we know that “God is not outdone in generosity”.
In this Lenten season, let us allow the desire to “see Jesus” to grow in us, to know him and to experience him, so that we can proclaim him to others. Let us follow him along the path of humility, the path of giving, the path of service, so that we too can be a grain of wheat that falls to the earth and dies, and thus bear much fruit.
May the Blessed Virgin Mary, who fully embraced the will of God, help us to be living witnesses of the Gospel. Amen.
The veiling of crosses and statues in churches with purple cloth from the Saturday evening before the Fifth Sunday of Lent until the Easter Vigil.
This tradition emphasizes the somber nature of Passiontide, which begins on this Sunday, and focuses the faithful's attention on the impending Passion and death of Christ, symbolizing the hiding of His divinity as He enters His suffering.
A heightened focus on the Passion of Christ in liturgical readings and homilies, with a palpable shift in the spiritual atmosphere of the Mass towards the solemnity of Holy Week.
The Fifth Sunday of Lent marks the beginning of Passiontide, a distinct period within Lent specifically dedicated to contemplating Christ's suffering and sacrifice as the Church prepares for the Paschal Mystery.