Reading the Gospel of Matthew during the First Passion confronts the mind with a paradox that is both surprising and terrifying. We find ourselves faced with a picture in which everything is turned upside down from the perspective of human logic.
Christ was not rejected by hostile pagans, by indifferent pseudo-believers, by convinced atheists, or even by those who had never heard of God. He was put to death by those who should have recognized Him first. The scribes and Pharisees were professional theologians, men who devoted their lives to the study of the Law and the Prophets. Their entire lifestyle, all their work, was a preparation for the encounter with the Messiah. But instead of the joy of recognition, envy and hatred arose; instead of gratitude, the cry, "Crucify Him!" They were absolutely certain they would expose and punish a blasphemer and an impostor.
This brings to mind the apostle's stern warning: "Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up" (1 Cor 8:1). Even knowledge of divine truths, if it becomes a sterile burden to the intellect, a source of pride rather than life to the heart, can blind a person. It creates the illusion of possessing God, blocking the path to the living God. Only one thing can protect us from this terrible spiritual blindness: a humble and contrite heart, of which the psalmist speaks: "A broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise" (Psalm 50:18). It was precisely a heart similar to that possessed by simple fishermen, tax collectors, and prostitutes who, without further ado, were drawn to the Source of Life, having perceived His Love.
But the Gospel drama doesn't end here. The depths of human degradation are revealed in their fullest expression when even these simple-hearted disciples, witnesses of all the great miracles, all the sermons and promises, in their hour of danger "abandoned him and fled." "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered" (Matthew 26:31): the words of Zechariah, repeated by Christ, resonate prophetically. Even personal experience with God does not guarantee faithfulness when this God reveals himself not as triumphant, but as a prisoner and victim. And here, in this impenetrable darkness of spiritual blindness, betrayal, and apostasy, the incredible happens. A miracle occurs, greater than the healing of the paralytic or the raising of Lazarus. On the cross, at the moment of his radical humiliation and degradation (kenosis), when the Son of God breathes his last amid the jeers of the crowd, when He dies and is seemingly defeated forever, it is then that the eyes of those who were far from him are opened. The Roman centurion, a pagan, responsible for the execution, suddenly confesses: "Truly this was the Son of God" (Matthew 27:54). And the thief, also dying in agony, manages to glimpse the King in the pitiful, wounded, and disfigured man beside him.
Why did they, ignorant of Scripture and unaware of miracles, perceive what was hidden from the wise teachers and even their closest disciples? Because they saw Christ not through logic or external impressions. The Savior hung on the cross, and the terrible signs—the darkness and the earthquake—were more frightening than convincing. Only those touched by the Holy Spirit could see God in a humiliated and disfigured Man. It is easy to believe in Christ as miracle-worker, healer, teacher and prophet, king, conqueror, transfigured and resurrected. Our "Euclidean" logic, as Dostoevsky called it, understands the language of strength and success. But to believe in Christ crucified, humiliated, and powerless is contrary to human understanding.
“For Jews require signs, and Greeks seek after wisdom; but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Greeks” (1 Corinthians 1:22-23).
This is the greatest paradox of the Gospel and the greatest miracle in the life of every person: to know God in his humility, to love him in his humiliation, to confess him in his suffering and death. All the miracles performed by the Lord in his earthly life led to a single purpose: that we, having seen his power, might one day see his love, displayed on the Cross. For the strength of Christ "is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9).
Even the glorious miracle of the Resurrection will remain for us only a distant historical fact, a vain message, if in the silence of our hearts we do not turn to Him, the Crucified, with the same bold, repentant and simple plea of the thief: "Remember me, Lord, when you come into your kingdom!" (Luke 23:42).
Source: https://luceortodossamarcomannino.blogspot.com/2026/04/meditazioni-ai-piedi-del-golgota.html