Monday in Holy Week

You may have seen it. Five contestants, who have never met one another, take it in turns to host a dinner party on five consecutive nights. They are competing for one thousand pounds, the winner determined by a series of anonymous scores given by the other contestants who have been entertained. On the final day, the winner is announced. The dinner party contestants are probably carefully chosen, thrown together by the producers, to create a bizarre and interesting mix of personalities to provide us with entertainment. The commentator is probably the most entertaining part of the show: casting snide remarks and comments about the food and the final outcome. Yes, this is Come Dine With Me: another Reality TV programme.

In the gospel reading, Jesus has been invited to dinner. Mary, Martha and Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead, have invited Jesus to ‘come dine’ with them. There is an interesting mix of personalities (Jesus, Mary, Martha, Lazarus, Judas Iscariot – amongst many other disciples – and even towards the end of the dinner party a large number of Jews who, on hearing that Jesus is being entertained, gatecrash the party. In time honoured fashion, as you may expect from such a dinner party, there are some strange goings on! This dinner party isn’t all it seems to be on the surface.

During dinner, Mary anoints the feet of Jesus with expensive perfume, and wipes them with her hair. This disjointed, deranged gesture is rather disturbing for those who are left to look on. There is surprise and disgust as the aroma fills the room. ‘What a waste! This money could have been used for the poor.’ Jesus responds to the Fagin-like musings of Judas Iscariot and takes the conversation to another level. He expresses what Mary meant in offering such a mad and carefree gesture: she is, says Jesus, preparing him for his burial. Suddenly, the dinner party atmosphere is disturbed. The smell of death fills the room.

Jesus, it seems, had been the life and soul of the party, a welcome guest, a longed for guest. Alongside him at table is Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead: a living sign of Jesus’ power to overcome death and bring life to the darkest and most deathly of situations. The atmosphere couldn’t have been more joyful. And now, suddenly, there is talk, not of life, but of dying and death and burial. Things are yet more sinister. The Chief Priests have death on their breath. They are determined to kill not only Jesus but also this Lazarus figure in whom so many people are interested and whose raising from the dead was causing too many people to follow Jesus. This just will not do. The smell of death fills the room.

There is controversy and danger, there is misunderstanding and intrigue, there is plotting and planning for death. At this Eucharist, Jesus invites us to come and dine with him. Expect to be comforted and cherished, expect to feel at home, expect to be able to get your feet under the table, and to be fed with finest food. But expect, too, to be disturbed and challenged and moved beyond all telling, as the death of Jesus is proclaimed. And yet there is more than just death here. Jesus takes the conversation to another level. He fills the air with sweetness. In all this talk of death there is confidence and trust in God. As the psalm today declares: ‘I am sure I shall see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Hope in him, hold firm and take heart. Hope in the Lord!’ So, let the aroma of Jesus fill this place, as we move closer to the cross, preparing to celebrate Christ’s death and glorious resurrection. Here we dine with the Lord, here we proclaim his death and resurrection, here we are comforted and challenged. There are, as the gospel reading reminds us, six days before the Passover. So, eat up! There is much to do and a long way to travel. You’ll need all the strength you can get.

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