Office Of Readings | Saturday, Lent Week 5 | A Reading From The Addresses of Saint Gregory Nazianzen | A Lenten Sermon

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Office Of Readings | Saturday, Lent Week 5 | A Reading From The Addresses of Saint Gregory Nazianzen | A Lenten Sermon

‘We Are Soon Going to Share in the Passover.’

Saint Gregory Nazianzen’s reflection on the Passover, offered in the final days of Lent, is a deeply poetic and theologically rich meditation that invites us to contemplate not only the mystery of Christ’s passion but our participation in it. As we draw near to Holy Week, his words are both a solemn preparation and a call to spiritual maturity.

At the heart of this sermon is the mystery of symbolism moving toward reality. Gregory acknowledges that in this life, we still celebrate the Passover ‘in a symbolic way’, yet, through Christ, the symbol has gained a clearer and more powerful significance. In the Old Covenant, the Passover was a ‘symbol of a symbol’—a ritual foreshadowing a deeper mystery that remained veiled. But now, in the New Covenant, Christ has fulfilled what was prefigured. The lamb sacrificed by the Israelites has become the true Lamb of God, whose blood brings liberation not from earthly slavery but from sin and death.

Gregory speaks of a future moment—’when the Word drinks the new wine with us in the kingdom of his Father’—a clear allusion to the eschatological banquet, the heavenly liturgy in which the faithful will one day participate. Here, he draws on Jesus’ own words at the Last Supper (cf. Matthew 26:29), pointing us beyond earthly worship toward the eternal celebration, when all things will be made clear, and our communion with Christ will be perfect and unmediated. The ‘wine’ that is familiar now will still be new, for it is Christ himself: ever ancient, ever new.

This forward-looking hope does not exempt us from present engagement. Gregory challenges us to enter the Passover ‘not in a literal way, but according to the teaching of the Gospel’. That is, not merely in ritual or external observance, but in the offering of our lives. The Old Testament sacrifices—young bulls, rams, animals more ‘dead than alive’—are replaced with a more spiritual and interior offering: a sacrifice of praise, and more radically, the sacrifice of ourselves. The movement is from external ritual to interior transformation.

The image of passing ‘through the first veil’ and approaching ‘the Holy of Holies’ calls to mind the Jewish Temple, where only the high priest could enter the inner sanctuary, and only once a year. But in Christ, the veil is torn (cf. Matthew 27:51), and we are invited into full communion with God. Gregory’s vision is not merely liturgical but mystical: we are drawn into the inner life of God through Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection.

One of the most powerful aspects of this reading is its invitation to identify with the figures of the Passion. Gregory’s use of names is more than dramatic—it’s pastoral, inviting each listener to see their place in the narrative:

• Are you Simon of Cyrene, called to carry a cross not your own?
• Are you one of the thieves, crucified beside Christ—perhaps still hostile, or perhaps ready to say, ‘Jesus, remember me?’
• Are you Joseph of Arimathea, moved by love and courage to ask for Christ’s body?
• Are you Nicodemus, once secretive in faith, now bringing spices in the open?
• Are you among the Marys, the faithful women who watched, wept, and were the first witnesses of the Resurrection?

Gregory presents these roles as invitations to deeper discipleship. The drama of Holy Week is not something to watch from a distance; it is something to enter. To be a Christian, for Gregory, is to find oneself somewhere in that story—and ideally, to grow into the one who weeps, who bears, who believes, who worships, who follows.

In his final exhortation—’be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself’—Gregory ends not with crucifixion but with resurrection. The arc of the sermon mirrors the Paschal Mystery itself: from the foreshadowing of suffering to the hope of glory. This reflects the logic of Lent itself: it is a season of penance, yes, but also of hopeful anticipation, of being made ready for the joy of Easter.

A Reading From The Addresses of Saint Gregory Nazianzen | A Lenten Sermon

We are soon going to share in the Passover, and although we still do so only in a symbolic way, the symbolism already has more clarity than it possessed in former times because, under the law, the Passover was, if I may dare to say so, only a symbol of a symbol. Before long, however, when the Word drinks the new wine with us in the kingdom of his Father, we shall be keeping the Passover in a yet more perfect way, and with deeper understanding. He will then reveal to us and make clear what he has so far only partially disclosed. For this wine, so familiar to us now, is eternally new.

It is for us to learn what this drinking is, and for him to teach us. He has to communicate this knowledge to his disciples, because teaching is food, even for the teacher.

So let us take our part in the Passover prescribed by the law, not in a literal way, but according to the teaching of the Gospel; not in an imperfect way, but perfectly; not only for a time, but eternally. Let us regard as our home the heavenly Jerusalem, not the earthly one; the city glorified by angels, not the one laid waste by armies. We are not required to sacrifice young bulls or rams, beasts with horns and hoofs that are more dead than alive and devoid of feeling; but instead, let us join the choirs of angels in offering God upon his heavenly altar a sacrifice of praise. We must now pass through the first veil and approach the second, turning our eyes towards the Holy of Holies. I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honouring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified.

If you are a Simon of Cyrene, take up your cross and follow Christ. If you are crucified beside him like one of the thieves, now, like the good thief, acknowledge your God. For your sake, and because of your sin, Christ himself was regarded as a sinner; for his sake, therefore, you must cease to sin. Worship him who was hung on the cross because of you, even if you are hanging there yourself. Derive some benefit from the very shame; purchase salvation with your death. Enter paradise with Jesus, and discover how far you have fallen. Contemplate the glories there, and leave the other scoffing thief to die outside in his blasphemy.

If you are a Joseph of Arimathea, go to the one who ordered his crucifixion, and ask for Christ’s body. Make your own the expiation for the sins of the whole world. If you are a Nicodemus, like the man who worshipped God by night, bring spices and prepare Christ’s body for burial. If you are one of the Maries, or Salome, or Joanna, weep in the early morning. Be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself.