A friend of mine and I sometimes walk along the beach before sunrise. As we walk, we pray the Rosary. I usually begin by naming intentions for the rosary: family, friends, needs, worries, people who have asked for prayers. Then it is her turn. And almost every time, she simply says, “God, I just want to thank you for all you are doing behind the scenes.” One morning, I stopped and asked her, “Sarah, wait! Don’t you have anything you need God to do for you?” She smiled and said, “Father, I know that behind the scenes, God is already doing way more than I could ever ask.” That response from my friend becomes a key to understanding today’s Passion Narrative.
Today, we stand at the foot of the Cross, and we hear one of the most deeply disturbing cries in all of Sacred Scripture: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” It is not a polite prayer. It is raw. It is desperate. It is the cry of someone who feels abandoned by the most trusted. And if we are honest, many of us have been there. You have prayed for healing, and it did not come. You have tried to hold your family together, and it still broke apart. You have studied as hard as you can, you still have not passed that test. You have been living a good life in the Lord, yet, marriage seems like a mirage; you wept all you can, no child seems to be on the way for you. Yes, you have given your best, and still feel overlooked, forgotten, and alone.
That cry of Jesus is not distant from us. It is our cry. Here is what makes this moment so real. Jesus does not cry those words from a place of comfort. He cries them after betrayal; after being denied by his closest friend; after being mocked, scourged, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a cross. Step by step, he descends into the darkest place a human heart can go, the place where it feels like even God no longer cares.
And yet, this is the turning point. When Jesus says, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me,” he is not losing faith. He is holding on to it with everything he has left. He is praying the opening line of Psalm 22, a psalm that begins in anguish but ends in trust, in victory, in testimony, and in the certainty that God has not abandoned his servant.
In that moment, when everything looks like failure… God is doing his greatest work behind the scenes. The Cross looks like defeat; but it is salvation unfolding. Silence feels like absence; but it is God acting in the deepest way. When you feel forgotten… God is not absent. When prayers seem unanswered… God is not inactive. When you stand in your own version of that cry, “My God, my God, Why…?” God is already working behind the scenes in ways you cannot yet see now.
When you ask the question, “Why?” do not run away for that is just the beginning of Psalm 22. Remain until the end of the Psalm so you can share your testimony. Remember, after Jesus asked, “Why?” he submitted himself to the Father, “Into your hands, Lord, I commend my spirit.” And his testimony is the empty tomb on the third day.
Palm Sunday invites us to trust the God who works behind the scenes. To walk with Jesus into the Passion, not just as observers, but as people who recognize our own story in his. And to believe that if God can bring resurrection out of that Cross… then he is not done with your story either. So today, at the foot of the cross, we borrow the prayer of my friend, Sarah, on the beach: “Lord, I thank you for all you are doing behind the scenes.” Because even at the Cross, especially at the Cross, God is working for you.
Homily for Palm Sunday Year A 2026
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