Anyone who lives long enough questions. Why do the wicked prosper? Why do the young die? Why does potential wither while evil thrives? Why do high hopes sometimes smash against rocky reality? The genius of today’s gospel is that Jesus doesn’t try to answer the questions. He enters into them.
Mark’s passion begins with the exquisite scene of Jesus’ anointing. The rigid, bottom-line bean-counters hate the scandal: how will they justify the expense or fit it on their spreadsheets? But Jesus praises her–“she has done what she could”–thus, hold onto kindness and beauty, which help us through the worst.
As does a meal with friends. Jesus’ concern in his final hours isn’t with imminent, brutal suffering but with a last, poignant gesture of friendship. He reaches out to them–and to us–with the nurture of bread, the spirit of wine and the praise of song. During his whole ordeal, there is no word of recrimination, though it would be understandable. He responds to crushing betrayal by pouring out love.
To the logical, it makes no sense. But to the believer, the powerless triumph. Those who seem defeated ultimately win. The questions aren’t answered, but One goes before us who lives through them, endures.
Kathy Coffey 