The Dandelions of Life

Today is the beginning of Holy Week. I count down these days with greater meaning than in any other part of the year, even Christmas. There is something so majestic about this weeks memorial that it is hard to overcome with any other event. 

This week in the theater of my mind, (in a private showing) I see the final week of Jesus' life beginning with a last visit to Mary, Martha and Lazarus. He meets with them for a quiet night of fellowship. It is the last time He will see them. It is also the last night before His most intense ministry period. After tonight we will see a different Jesus. Not the reflective Jesus, the contemplative man, but a warrior confirmed in His heart to do the Father's will whose face is set toward Jerusalem. But this evening He is at rest with his friends, the "calm" before the storm.  I wonder what they will speak about? Will it be hard for him not to weep? Do they know what lies just ahead? He has not kept it a secret from them, so they know. Tonight He can rest and let the saints minister to Him. It is easy to be yourself and even to cry in the arms of safe friends. There there are no secrets and it is to those to whom you reveal your most vulnerable self. Mary chose to anoint, Martha served and Lazarus reclined. But it was easy for them? No, I don't think so.  For it is hard to accept your teacher's vulnerabilities and his/her more human face. You wonder if you are up for the task. The anointing is a heavy thing for a disciple to carry and that is precisely what happens in friendships like these: between pupil and teacher, between the powerful and the powerless, between parent and child or between the giver and the receiver.  They are so grateful and you are so grateful and everyone is humbled by the tenderness of heart and emotion. What will they speak about that night? Will they share memories? Will they talk about the event? Will Jesus be a receiver tonight or a giver? It is a hard moment. 

Furthermore, what is spoken of in your last week of  life together as a family?  What more can be said if one has loved well and deeply throughout the relationship?   There are no unfinished "bits of business" which to attend. There is nothing missing or broken. Even disappointments have long been wrapped up in the greater mantle of the will of God. I think  they were immensely and profoundly grateful.  Grateful for having known Jesus, and for having been taken in as friends, as students, as disciples and frankly as part of the intimate circle of friends. All their days, in retrospect, will, from this moment on, be seen as holy, as good, as a gift from God. If there were tears, they would have been tears of thanksgiving, of praise to the Father of all. I think there would have been a lot of touching, a rubbing arms and a grasping of hands. Words fail us, as they should, at this time. Only small deeds of love can really display what is felt. Mary brought her alabaster jar of oil. Perhaps someone else might bring a small basket of cat food, or a tin of pecan muffins. The more wealthy would bring exotic fruits, olives, legumes, cheeses and wines. 

Love at this point is beyond words. Love is transmitted in clumsy gestures, words that trail off, cliches that bore everyone and everyone is ok with that because everyone knows that words are not enough. They are too small to contain the bastion of love and gratefulness one feels for having been a part of someone's life. But something must be taken to the to the last supper. No one comes empty handed. A child comes with some plastic toys, a teenager with a candy bar, another comes with arms of tulips while others bring helpful ointments. 

In the morning, the Father of lights, strengthens them all for the journey ahead. Jesus understands where He is going.  He understands what it means to be in Jerusalem, this Passover, this year. His hour has come. But his "hour" is not easy, it is painful and it is wicked. The powers and principalities have their way and torment Jesus with their blasphemous hidden words.  Even among friends the evil one has been working. Judas has still not grasped who Jesus really is. He is the work of the flesh in a holy environment. And such as these can never see the real drama. The week continues, battered by the forces of darkness in play, and yet Jesus says not a word.  Jesus' thoughts are not focused on this world anymore, they are focused on heaven. More and more He sees the outstretched arms that await Him at the end of His passion. 

This week in Jesus' life  is  so intense because so much happened in such a small time. So many players, so many emotions, so many levels of meaning and apprehension. What must  Joanna and the other Marys have been feeling? One can only imagine what the disciples were going through. It took Jesus three years to prepare them for this one moment in their lives. And they still weren't ready. But who can be ready for death? It is to peek into the tomb as only a few can do and it is a fearful thing to face death for a friend. The flesh hates the head gates of Death and Hades. Only in the Spirit can you take away its horror. And so some watch from a distance, others run head long. The "Peters" of this world clumsily stumble upon the sacred scene of death, others, more like John, hang out at the cave's entrance.

This week our own life oddly parallels the Lord's last week. There is a whittling down of time ahead of us. The days are passing, and we will never recover them. They are gone from us. We mourn for these dandelions of life that are blown away by the wind. The mundane things, the tedious things which cause us to melt down under the weight of their non-being. The ordinary things of which life is composed generally. Not big exploits but just the getting by things. We mourn for the ordinary. 


There is also the known face of death ahead. Not the Roman guards this time, but those agents in the body which are enemies, what I call the soldiers of the fall—death, disease, despair and destruction. 

And the evil one behind it all does not know that Sunday is coming...as the song goes...and we will rise from the dead into life everlasting. Jesus has the last word, "Talitha Cumi."