Hans Urs von Balthasar, a Swiss/German theologian, wrote that every Christian must live out the events of Christ’s life in some manner.

“In the form of Christ offered to us, the interior light of grace and faith confronts its only valid verification, because here and only here a form becomes visible in which everything makes sense for the light which beholds it; but it is evident that only God can make it make sense, and therefore it is only the light of faith that can confirm that it does make sense” (The Christian State in Life).

Von Balthasar did not mean that we have to adopt Jesus’ style of dress and diet or live as an itinerant preacher. Rather, Christians must see in their own lives the pattern that marked our Lord’s. 

Sounds familiar

He was a man with a small circle of friends and, at times, thousands of followers. Those thousands proved as fleeting as the wind. Even his friends scattered when trouble came. Does that sound like anyone you know?

He had a mom who loved him to the end and a dad who was gone too soon. He was respected and sought out by strangers but rejected in his hometown. This familiarity bred suspicion, if not contempt.

He knew joy and sorrow; he experienced celebration and tragedy. He had triumphs — just ask Lazarus — and suffered what looked like defeat. In other words, he lived a normal life, one much like ours (except for the miracles and the part about being God incarnate). 

He lived a normal life because he meant to show us how to live. If it was all miracles and theophanies, we would not accept him as our exemplar.

What lies ahead

Jesus has traveled to Jerusalem aware of what awaited him. His apostles were likely on edge; they knew this trip was dangerous, though they did not grasp how bad it would become. This somber journey takes a most unexpected turn with the triumphant entry on Palm Sunday. Imagine the mind of our Lord taking in the crowd’s adulation, knowing these same people would mock him along the Via Dolorosa within the week.

The apostles are likely swept up in the emotion, but perhaps cast wary glances toward the Roman soldiers present in the streets.

He sends two of his followers to arrange the Passover Seder. For them, it is an annual chore; one done with religious devotion and a muted joy. For Jesus, it’s the moment of preparation for what only he knows lies ahead. He has so much to give his disciples in such a short time. His foreknowledge cannot allow him to simply “be in the moment” of celebration with friends. There is too much at stake that no one else sees.

We all know the story: the garden and the agony, arrest and mistreatment, mocking, scourging and death. He travels these last scenes alone — his closest friends cannot or will not follow. He must do this alone. He has already given himself to them in the Eucharist; from that point to now, it is the manner in which he will be with them (and us). For now, he is isolated.

Who has not felt out of sync with those around us? Often, it’s because we hold a secret inside we cannot share, one that colors our experience. Have we also had too much to do, not enough time and little help?

Everyday death

Jesus dies on Good Friday. St. Paul tells us we must die everyday (1 Cor 15:31). The old us must die. We must put on Christ, not in a blaze of glory or a final climactic gesture. No, we are to die to self in a thousand little ways daily. We can’t live the events of Christ’s life as he lived them. Instead, we must live Christ’s life in a manner “fit” for ourselves. 

We do this first by seeing the pattern behind the events of Christ’s life in Holy Week and recognizing them as patterns in our lives. Second, we consciously offer each moment and each aspect of our lives to Jesus. This doesn't have to be linear. It can be out of the sequence compared to Christ’s life. 

We unite our celebrations to his joy when Lazarus leaves the tomb. We unite our sorrow to his when he sees his mother on the way to Golgotha. We unite our frustration to his when the apostles did not understand, yet again.

Sacred parallels

If you don’t know the life of Christ so intimately that an immediate parallel to your life leaps to mind, not to worry. It’s not necessary. Jesus knows what event of his life fits our current state; all we have to do is offer these moments to him. The Holy Spirit (or our guardian angel) may whisper in our ear the proper parallel, and we should thank them for it. But all we need is to ask the Lord to unite himself with us in the moment. 

There are parallels in the life of Christ for every moment of ours. Find them. Offer all your moments to him. This is the first step into a new world — or a new way of living in this world. Once it becomes a habit, what we discover is that he has always been there, always ready to share our burdens, celebrate our joys or mourn our losses. Just as he was with the three young men in King Nebuchadnezzar’s furnace, he is with us always. We simply need to turn to him and seek that union.

It would be a good Holy Week practice to read the Gospel and be more familiar with Christ’s life. It’s actually a good thing to do before, during and after Holy Week. “The essence of being a Christian is to be open daily and hourly to the call of God and to let oneself be touched and guided by it” (The Christian State of Life).

When we do, we become more fully the people he wants us to be. We are always a work in progress until we attain the Beatific Vision. The Christian life is a series of breakthroughs and plateaus. Make this Holy Week a breakthrough week. Make it a time to begin forming the habit of offering every day, every decision, every moment to Christ Jesus. Ask him to shape it, and you, into what is most pleasing to his will.