We return as we always do on Monday of Holy Week to the little house in Bethany.
Ears still ringing from the raucous crowds thronging the streets of Jerusalem yesterday on Palm Sunday, perhaps our own voices are hoarse from shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David!”
Our unspoken hope was that if we proclaimed it loudly enough, maybe this year we won’t hear our own voices a scant week later shouting “Crucify him!”
Jesus knows what is coming, and he comes here to the house in Bethany for strength.
Perhaps we can do the same.
But as always with Jesus, and especially during Holy Week, there is a dose of keen insight awaiting us, insight about our selves and our motives that we might have been happier without.
Jesus draws strength from his dearest friends: Martha with her untiring service, practical and steadfast, Mary with her extravagant devotion, intense and demonstrative, and Lazarus who loves with neither deeds nor words, but his simple, quiet presence.
Martha speaks with her hands, Mary speaks with her tears, and Lazarus speaks with a small smile and the love shining out of his eyes as he sits at table with Jesus for the last time.
The goodbye, unspoken in any direct terms, vibrates in the room with palpable intensity.
Is Jesus going to come to your house tonight?
Are you his trusted confidante, someone who loves him not for the miracles and the prophecies of his kingship but for himself?
Are you his companion at meals uncounted?
Have you shared table fellowship with him, times of laughter and feasting, over weeks and months and years of friendship?
Has he raised you from the dead? Continue reading