Monday in Holy Week

There appears to be a rather simple yet ingenious trend at the moment to get people to read. There is now a large growing number of short books called Easy Reads, written by famous authors and celebrities, usually costing just a few pounds, and short enough not to be too daunting for the timid or casual reader. And so there is a challenge on the writer’s part to be economical with words: to give a good read and to encourage people to go on reading.

Tonight’s gospel reading is relatively short. It’s certainly not as long and demanding as the reading of the Passion at yesterday’s Mass and which will be read again on Good Friday. Yes, tonight’s gospel is rather short especially when you consider how much it contains: not one word or image is wasted.

The scene is set at Lazarus’ house: the one whom Jesus had raised from the dead. There is a dinner – what thoughts fill our minds with the image of them reclining and relaxing and sharing in a meal as they talk the night away: a mix of formality and informality. There is the rather ungainly and perhaps embarrassing incident of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet and…then…wiping them with her hair? There is the description of the scent filling the room. There is the squabbling over money, Jesus’ blunt and challenging talk about his impending death and burial, the loaded aside about Judas Iscariot as the one who was to betray Jesus, calling him a thief, explaining how he dipped his hand into the common fund; the snapping of Jesus to leave this woman alone, the plotting of the chief priests to kill both Lazarus and Jesus, the crowds gathering at the doors to see the one who had raised a man from the dead. The gospel reading tonight is dark and rich, it is both colourful and blood curdling. It is sombre, surreal, fragile and beautiful, and it draws us, it fills us with the scent of Jesus, and gives an idea of what this Holy Week may mean. It has been chosen, perhaps, to encourage us to go on, it draws us on, to find out more, to experience more.

And so the scene is set for the rest of the week. The characters and individuals are taking their place in the great drama that is to be unfolded. The ebullient and beautiful gestures, the gnashing of teeth, the murderous plots, the jealousy, the anxiety, the scent of death filling every scene, and Jesus moves on, in his own time, in his own way, closer and closer, closer to the cross.

Tonight we sit at table with Jesus. A dinner is prepared. There is the scent of something in the air, the scent of death hanging over us, and the scent too of something beautiful: the fragile task of preparing to celebrate Jesus’ death and burial. There is the scent also of resurrection in the air. We are after all in the presence of the risen Lord. And yet we too are moving closer and closer to the cross. The Mass tonight is short, the gospel reading is short, the homily too is short (you may be pleased to hear) and all the time we are being drawn in, called on, encouraged to move closer, to discover again, to discover anew, to discover for ourselves the undying love of God who loves us to death.

Readings: Isaiah 41:1-7; John 12:1-11