A judge forced ICE to open the doors. On Holy Thursday, four priests washed the feet of fourteen detained migrants. The next morning, the Pentagon excluded Catholics from Good Friday services.
I’m nobody’s idea of a good Catholic, but I am a cradle Catholic and attended 12 years of Catholic school. This is a disgrace and sadly, nothing new for Catholic’s to be subjected to discrimination. It’s just been a while since it’s been publicly displayed. Thank you for your reporting.
Maybe it's a better choice to attend services with like minded Christians to gather in a friendly positive environment. Hegseth isn't Christian ,not when he delights in dropping bombs,killing innocent people.hegseth is a moron
No comment suffices. However, there is timeless thinking from Luke, as always.
In Luke’s Gospel, the crucifixion is not simply the tragic end of a righteous teacher; it is the decisive revelation of what kind of Messiah Jesus is and what kind of kingdom God brings. Luke presents a “crucified Messiah” who reigns by suffering, saves by forgiveness, and is recognized not through displays of force but through faithful obedience and the surprising signs of divine mercy.
The cross becomes, in Luke’s distinctive way, the place where Jesus’ identity is clarified, God’s purpose is carried out, and the meaning of discipleship is defined.
Luke frames Jesus’ road to the cross as a deliberate, coherent mission rather than an accident of politics. From early in the narrative, Jesus interprets his vocation in terms that include rejection and suffering.
When Peter confesses Jesus as “the Christ,” Luke quickly pairs that confession with Jesus’ first prediction that “the Son of Man must suffer…be killed…and on the third day be raised.” The word “must” matters: the cross is not merely foreseen; it is fitting within God’s plan. Luke repeatedly returns to this necessity, weaving a theology of divine purpose through events that otherwise look like defeat.
This theme intensifies as Jesus “sets his face to go to Jerusalem,” a Lukan phrase that depicts resolute obedience. The journey motif makes the crucifixion the destination of a chosen path. Jesus does not drift toward death; he walks toward it, teaching along the way what the kingdom looks like and what it costs.
Luke’s crucifixion scene is saturated with irony about kingship. The charges, the mockery, and even the placard naming Jesus “King of the Jews” turn the cross into a public contest over sovereignty.
Yet Luke’s point is not simply that Jesus is wrongly accused; it is that the Messiah’s true kingship is revealed precisely where worldly kingship seems to win. The rulers sneer, soldiers deride, and one criminal joins the chorus: “Save yourself.” The taunt implies that real power proves itself by self-rescue.
Luke overturns that assumption. Jesus’ refusal to “save himself” is not powerlessness but mission. His reign is defined by self-giving fidelity, not self-preservation. The cross, in Luke, is thus a kind of enthronement in reverse: Jesus is “lifted up” in shame, yet that lifting is the sign that he is the promised king who rules by embodying God’s mercy.
If Luke has a signature in portraying Jesus, it is mercy—especially mercy toward the guilty, the excluded, and the powerless. The crucifixion concentrates that signature into a few unforgettable moments.
First, Luke alone preserves Jesus’ prayer for his executioners: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The crucified Messiah responds to violence not with retaliation but intercession. The prayer does not deny the wrongness of the act; it exposes the depth of divine compassion. In Luke, the cross is not only the place where sin is displayed; it is the place where forgiveness is enacted.
Second, the story of the “good thief” (the repentant criminal) is uniquely Lukan and functions as a miniature gospel. One criminal demands rescue on his terms; the other acknowledges guilt, recognizes Jesus’ innocence, and appeals not for escape but for remembrance: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The astonishing reply—“Today you will be with me in paradise”—depicts salvation as immediate, personal, and grounded in Jesus’ kingly authority even while he hangs dying. Luke’s crucified Messiah opens the kingdom to a condemned man who can offer nothing but trust. The cross becomes a gate, not a dead end.
Together these moments express a Lukan conviction: God’s saving power is not most visible in preventing suffering but in transforming it into mercy and hope.
Luke emphasizes Jesus’ innocence with unusual insistence. Pilate repeatedly finds no basis for condemnation; Herod returns him without judgment; the criminal testifies that Jesus “has done nothing wrong”; and the centurion praises God, declaring Jesus righteous/innocent. This motif does several things at once. It highlights the miscarriage of justice, exposing the fragility of human courts. It also aligns Jesus with the biblical figure of the righteous sufferer—one who trusts God amid persecution.
Yet Luke does not present innocence merely to evoke sympathy. It points to vindication: God’s plan is not thwarted by injustice. The resurrection will be God’s answer to human verdicts, but even at the cross Luke offers hints that God is already speaking—darkness over the land, the torn temple curtain, and the public response of the crowd who depart “beating their breasts.” These signs frame the crucifixion as an event of cosmic and covenantal significance, not simply a local execution.
Luke’s Gospel begins and ends in the temple precincts, so the temple is a major symbolic space. At the crucifixion, Luke notes the tearing of the temple curtain. Interpretations vary, but within Luke’s broader narrative the gesture suggests a decisive shift in how God’s presence and salvation are mediated. The barrier symbolized by the curtain is removed, and the “way” to God is opened through Jesus’ faithful self-offering.
Importantly, Luke places the tearing of the curtain before Jesus’ death (a different sequence from that of Mark and Matthew), which can underscore that God is acting in and through the crucifixion itself. The cross is not merely followed by divine action; it is the arena of divine action.
Luke’s portrayal of Jesus’ death differs strikingly from the cry of abandonment in Mark and Matthew. Luke’s Jesus dies praying: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” The tone is not despair but surrender. This is not stoicism; it is relationship. Luke wants the reader to see the crucified Messiah as the obedient Son who entrusts himself to the Father, confident that death does not end God’s fidelity.
This final prayer also models discipleship. Luke has already emphasized prayer throughout Jesus’ life; at the end, prayer remains his language. The Messiah conquers not by escaping suffering but by trusting God through it.
Luke does not allow the cross to be admired from a safe distance. Earlier Jesus teaches that disciples must “take up their cross daily and follow me.” The crucified Messiah is therefore not only the object of faith but the template for the life of faith. Luke’s community is invited to understand suffering, persecution, and costly love as normal features of fidelity to God’s kingdom.
At the same time, Luke guards against a romanticizing of suffering. The cross is not presented as valuable in itself; it is valuable because it is the path of faithful love and because God vindicates the righteous. The disciple’s cross is taken up “daily,” not as a quest for pain but as a steady commitment to Jesus’ way—nonviolent endurance, prayerful trust, and mercy toward enemies.
Luke’s second volume, Acts, shows how the early church preaches the crucified Messiah. The apostles proclaim that Jesus was handed over, crucified, and killed, yet God raised him up. They interpret the cross within the framework of God’s plan and human responsibility: the event is both a sin that calls for repentance and the means through which God brings salvation. Luke’s narrative thus moves from the cross as scandal to the cross as proclamation.
In Luke-Acts, the crucified Messiah is not a contradiction to messiahship but its redefinition. The Messiah is the one who suffers, forgives, and is exalted by God; his kingdom advances through witness, not coercion.
Luke’s depiction of the crucified Messiah is a carefully crafted theological portrait. The cross is the culmination of Jesus’ mission, the paradoxical display of his kingship, the enactment of divine mercy, and the pattern for Christian discipleship. Luke insists that God’s saving work is most clearly seen not when power protects itself, but when love gives itself. In that sense, Luke’s crucified Messiah does not merely endure the cross; he reveals through it the heart of God and the shape of the kingdom—forgiveness for enemies, welcome for the undeserving, and a hope strong enough to call a dying criminal “today” into paradise.
Blocking access to religious sacraments is shameful conduct by my government, among so many shocking and shameful acts. I suspect that, with the active war in Iran, the Pentagon has many workers around the clock. They will be unable to attend Holy Week services outside the facility, so their religious rights have been unduly curtailed. I pray for them and all the detainees who are being disrespected.
Does poor people in those detention centers? They need to see a freeze. They need to see people from the outside world. They're just being detained because they're migrants, color of their skin.Total discrimination disregard for humanity
I’m nobody’s idea of a good Catholic, but I am a cradle Catholic and attended 12 years of Catholic school. This is a disgrace and sadly, nothing new for Catholic’s to be subjected to discrimination. It’s just been a while since it’s been publicly displayed. Thank you for your reporting.
Am I to understand that the detainees were shackled while having their feet washed?
Did any staff participate in the ceremony as they did on Ash Wednesday?
Unbelievable by the Pentagon!
Maybe it's a better choice to attend services with like minded Christians to gather in a friendly positive environment. Hegseth isn't Christian ,not when he delights in dropping bombs,killing innocent people.hegseth is a moron
I hope my “catholic” brother and in-laws find this disturbing at a minimum
And the Catholic JD Vance too, yes?
This is an excellent point.
No comment suffices. However, there is timeless thinking from Luke, as always.
In Luke’s Gospel, the crucifixion is not simply the tragic end of a righteous teacher; it is the decisive revelation of what kind of Messiah Jesus is and what kind of kingdom God brings. Luke presents a “crucified Messiah” who reigns by suffering, saves by forgiveness, and is recognized not through displays of force but through faithful obedience and the surprising signs of divine mercy.
The cross becomes, in Luke’s distinctive way, the place where Jesus’ identity is clarified, God’s purpose is carried out, and the meaning of discipleship is defined.
Luke frames Jesus’ road to the cross as a deliberate, coherent mission rather than an accident of politics. From early in the narrative, Jesus interprets his vocation in terms that include rejection and suffering.
When Peter confesses Jesus as “the Christ,” Luke quickly pairs that confession with Jesus’ first prediction that “the Son of Man must suffer…be killed…and on the third day be raised.” The word “must” matters: the cross is not merely foreseen; it is fitting within God’s plan. Luke repeatedly returns to this necessity, weaving a theology of divine purpose through events that otherwise look like defeat.
This theme intensifies as Jesus “sets his face to go to Jerusalem,” a Lukan phrase that depicts resolute obedience. The journey motif makes the crucifixion the destination of a chosen path. Jesus does not drift toward death; he walks toward it, teaching along the way what the kingdom looks like and what it costs.
Luke’s crucifixion scene is saturated with irony about kingship. The charges, the mockery, and even the placard naming Jesus “King of the Jews” turn the cross into a public contest over sovereignty.
Yet Luke’s point is not simply that Jesus is wrongly accused; it is that the Messiah’s true kingship is revealed precisely where worldly kingship seems to win. The rulers sneer, soldiers deride, and one criminal joins the chorus: “Save yourself.” The taunt implies that real power proves itself by self-rescue.
Luke overturns that assumption. Jesus’ refusal to “save himself” is not powerlessness but mission. His reign is defined by self-giving fidelity, not self-preservation. The cross, in Luke, is thus a kind of enthronement in reverse: Jesus is “lifted up” in shame, yet that lifting is the sign that he is the promised king who rules by embodying God’s mercy.
If Luke has a signature in portraying Jesus, it is mercy—especially mercy toward the guilty, the excluded, and the powerless. The crucifixion concentrates that signature into a few unforgettable moments.
First, Luke alone preserves Jesus’ prayer for his executioners: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The crucified Messiah responds to violence not with retaliation but intercession. The prayer does not deny the wrongness of the act; it exposes the depth of divine compassion. In Luke, the cross is not only the place where sin is displayed; it is the place where forgiveness is enacted.
Second, the story of the “good thief” (the repentant criminal) is uniquely Lukan and functions as a miniature gospel. One criminal demands rescue on his terms; the other acknowledges guilt, recognizes Jesus’ innocence, and appeals not for escape but for remembrance: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The astonishing reply—“Today you will be with me in paradise”—depicts salvation as immediate, personal, and grounded in Jesus’ kingly authority even while he hangs dying. Luke’s crucified Messiah opens the kingdom to a condemned man who can offer nothing but trust. The cross becomes a gate, not a dead end.
Together these moments express a Lukan conviction: God’s saving power is not most visible in preventing suffering but in transforming it into mercy and hope.
Luke emphasizes Jesus’ innocence with unusual insistence. Pilate repeatedly finds no basis for condemnation; Herod returns him without judgment; the criminal testifies that Jesus “has done nothing wrong”; and the centurion praises God, declaring Jesus righteous/innocent. This motif does several things at once. It highlights the miscarriage of justice, exposing the fragility of human courts. It also aligns Jesus with the biblical figure of the righteous sufferer—one who trusts God amid persecution.
Yet Luke does not present innocence merely to evoke sympathy. It points to vindication: God’s plan is not thwarted by injustice. The resurrection will be God’s answer to human verdicts, but even at the cross Luke offers hints that God is already speaking—darkness over the land, the torn temple curtain, and the public response of the crowd who depart “beating their breasts.” These signs frame the crucifixion as an event of cosmic and covenantal significance, not simply a local execution.
Luke’s Gospel begins and ends in the temple precincts, so the temple is a major symbolic space. At the crucifixion, Luke notes the tearing of the temple curtain. Interpretations vary, but within Luke’s broader narrative the gesture suggests a decisive shift in how God’s presence and salvation are mediated. The barrier symbolized by the curtain is removed, and the “way” to God is opened through Jesus’ faithful self-offering.
Importantly, Luke places the tearing of the curtain before Jesus’ death (a different sequence from that of Mark and Matthew), which can underscore that God is acting in and through the crucifixion itself. The cross is not merely followed by divine action; it is the arena of divine action.
Luke’s portrayal of Jesus’ death differs strikingly from the cry of abandonment in Mark and Matthew. Luke’s Jesus dies praying: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” The tone is not despair but surrender. This is not stoicism; it is relationship. Luke wants the reader to see the crucified Messiah as the obedient Son who entrusts himself to the Father, confident that death does not end God’s fidelity.
This final prayer also models discipleship. Luke has already emphasized prayer throughout Jesus’ life; at the end, prayer remains his language. The Messiah conquers not by escaping suffering but by trusting God through it.
Luke does not allow the cross to be admired from a safe distance. Earlier Jesus teaches that disciples must “take up their cross daily and follow me.” The crucified Messiah is therefore not only the object of faith but the template for the life of faith. Luke’s community is invited to understand suffering, persecution, and costly love as normal features of fidelity to God’s kingdom.
At the same time, Luke guards against a romanticizing of suffering. The cross is not presented as valuable in itself; it is valuable because it is the path of faithful love and because God vindicates the righteous. The disciple’s cross is taken up “daily,” not as a quest for pain but as a steady commitment to Jesus’ way—nonviolent endurance, prayerful trust, and mercy toward enemies.
Luke’s second volume, Acts, shows how the early church preaches the crucified Messiah. The apostles proclaim that Jesus was handed over, crucified, and killed, yet God raised him up. They interpret the cross within the framework of God’s plan and human responsibility: the event is both a sin that calls for repentance and the means through which God brings salvation. Luke’s narrative thus moves from the cross as scandal to the cross as proclamation.
In Luke-Acts, the crucified Messiah is not a contradiction to messiahship but its redefinition. The Messiah is the one who suffers, forgives, and is exalted by God; his kingdom advances through witness, not coercion.
Luke’s depiction of the crucified Messiah is a carefully crafted theological portrait. The cross is the culmination of Jesus’ mission, the paradoxical display of his kingship, the enactment of divine mercy, and the pattern for Christian discipleship. Luke insists that God’s saving work is most clearly seen not when power protects itself, but when love gives itself. In that sense, Luke’s crucified Messiah does not merely endure the cross; he reveals through it the heart of God and the shape of the kingdom—forgiveness for enemies, welcome for the undeserving, and a hope strong enough to call a dying criminal “today” into paradise.
May God forgive them. The ceremonies themselves play a wonderful part, but prayers from the faithful can be heard from anywhere, even in silence.
Awful and such important writing. 🙏
This is just wrong.
They are straight from Hell. I firmly believe that. If so, are we supposed to forgive their misguidedness? 🤔
Blocking access to religious sacraments is shameful conduct by my government, among so many shocking and shameful acts. I suspect that, with the active war in Iran, the Pentagon has many workers around the clock. They will be unable to attend Holy Week services outside the facility, so their religious rights have been unduly curtailed. I pray for them and all the detainees who are being disrespected.
Does poor people in those detention centers? They need to see a freeze. They need to see people from the outside world. They're just being detained because they're migrants, color of their skin.Total discrimination disregard for humanity