Tuesday of Holy Week
April 19, 2011
To see the readings, click here:
http://www.usccb.org/nab/041911.shtml
The story continues building toward the passion. In today's gospel, Jesus predicts that he will be betrayed, Judas leaves to betray him, Peter proclaims his undying devotion to Jesus, and Jesus predicts that before the cock crows three times, Peter will betray him. Alone, there are several lessons one could take from this reading. But as part of Holy Week, sandwiched between the full story of the passion we heard on Palm Sunday and the story of the passion and resurrection we will hear at the Triduum, it just builds the drama and tension. Within that greater context, we know that we are all Judas and we are all Peter. We fail God at every turn, sometimes proactively like Judas and more often, through our own frailties, like Peter. And somehow, inexplicably, God loves us so much that he comes to die for us.
Today was unusual in that I kept getting external reminders of the meaning of the week. An old friend of mine posted a very thought-provoking article on Facebook about how fast-paced our lives are, and how he thinks it is God's way of throwing us into the deep end of the pool, making us give up our illusions of control and learn to really trust in him. Then I caught the last part of an NPR feature on Easter and family traditions, featuring an extended first-person piece on one woman's experience of Easter. She told a story of one year when she went shopping for a dress with a friend who was dying from cancer. When the woman tried on a dress and worried about her figure, the friend, with the perspective that comes from facing mortality, said "Girl, you don't have time for that stuff." She said that was an aha moment for her, and the perspective she now brings to Easter. Finally, I was at a meeting in which a Jewish friend had to run off to get home to the Seder meal her husband was preparing, which served to remind me, as Seder meals always do, of the Christian adaptation of that tradition into our Eucharist, which we will celebrate so beautifully Thursday evening. I take all these as little gifts of grace, sent by God to help keep me focused on what matters.
Because I sing in my church choir, I've always experienced Holy Week partly as a marathon. We always have a final rehearsal with the instruments sometime in the first half of the week, then the services on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, and some years, including this one, back for another service Sunday morning. And I hate to admit it, but I've done my share of whining about it. This year, I'm viewing it as more of a blessing. And when I stop and think about what's different, I realize what it is. They always teach that in Lent we should think about our mortality, but I guess it just never really clicked for me. This year, I lost my little friend Delaney, I have four close friends fighting various cancers, and I learned that another friend, who gave a kidney to her oldest daughter 10 years ago, now has learned that her younger daughter needs a kidney -- and there are no other family members eligible to give. This year, I think perhaps the message of mortality has reached me in ways it never did before. And I suspect that is why I see the blessing of Holy Week a little more clearly.
Father, we thank you for the mercy you showed to Peter and the thieves who died beside you and those who put you to death. We thank you for the mercy you showed to all of us by coming in the person of Jesus and dying for all of us. I say a special prayer for those loved ones in my life who are dealing with life-threatening problems, and for the families who have lost loved ones. Please bless and strengthen them, and thank you for allowing me to share in their lives. Help me to find ways to be a blessing to them, as well. Thank you for guiding us on our Lenten journey, and please be with us on these final days of it and lead us ever closer to you. Amen
