Monday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 317

Christ is mediator of a new covenant:
since a death has taken place
for deliverance from transgressions under the first covenant,
those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance.

 T hings change when a death takes place. A spouse becomes a widow; a child becomes an orphan. Families come together to reestablish their ties and to realign their tacit systems of communication and authority. When the dominant sibling disappears, who leads us now? When the comedienne of the family dies, who cushions our tensions and persuades us to meet again? Some families silently agree to go their separate ways, expecting to gather only at the next funeral. 

Money can change hands when a death has taken place; and that too can change everything, causing joy or distress within a family. 

The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that, with the death of Jesus, he has become "the mediator of a new covenant." If we have lived under the governance of sin, or suffered the humiliation of scrupulous, self-righteous observance of the Law, we have been delivered now since a death has taken place. We can enjoy the freedom of a new covenant. 

But how do we recognize the full impact of his death? It seems to be little more than a story for most people, an incident of the remote past which, if it ever made a difference, doesn't anymore. It was a rock thrown into a river, but we are far downriver and cannot see on the water's surface any waves or ripples, much less the tsunami it's supposed to be. 

The Catholic Church takes us back to the Lord's beginnings in Bethlehem, to the Holy Family, and especially to his Virgin Mother. We must ponder as she did, "all these things." Saint Luke uses that or a similar phrase several times as he speaks of Mary. We recall the woman who bore, nursed, bathed, dressed, comforted, disciplined, accompanied, and believed in her Son when no one else had the faintest idea who he might be. We can imagine her anxiety as he set out on the Gospel Road for Jerusalem, an anxiety which only grew as she heard of the opposition he met. Knowing Mary as we do, we can enter her experience when his death has taken place. 

The Gospels reveal the dogged loyalty of his uncomprehending disciples as they followed him. They saw the adoring crowds and the marvels that accompanied him, but they also saw the spies, whisperers, and conspirators who seemed to appear on the edges of every crowd. They were well aware of the opposition he'd met in Jerusalem, and yet he insisted on going back. And so they went with him hoping against hope that everything would come out alright. But no one could imagine what should happen, much less what did happen when the death had taken place. 

Like every Catholic who has recited the rosary, I have imagine myself with the Lord on the night before he died. I want to say, "Lord, get out of town! Now! They're coming! You have friends who will hide you until this blows over. They're passionately loyal; they'll risk anything. Go! Now! Get lost! You should choose your battles, but you cannot win this battle! Come back another day." 

But I also have to say, "Lord, don't go. You have to stay. You have to die for me, for us, for the world. You have to stay because if you don't fidelity will mean nothing, courage will be an empty word, sacrifice will be a sham like it's always been for too many hypocrites and fools. Your enemies will be proven right. You have to stay!" 

What should I pray for? What should I want for the Lord as we visit the Mount of Olives? This isn't the Garden of Eden; it's Gethsemane. 

A death has taken place. What does it mean to me? To us? To the world?