Martha on Easter Saturday

The silent retreat I went on over Triduum & Easter Sunday reinvigorated my appreciation for imaginative prayer in the Ignatian style. There were a number of times over the three days where individually or in community with the other retreatants I prayed this way; one of the most fun was where we signed up to offer a monologue of different personalities from the Gospels, imagining what they would be thinking and feeling the day after their friend Jesus was put to death.

Given that I'd spent some time reflecting on how busy this past semester has been - how it has felt dehumanizing, and led me into the temptation of valuing productivity over people, I chose to imagine myself as Martha. Here is what I offered as an imaginative "memory of Jesus" to the other retreatants on Saturday morning:

I've been up all night hosting those who are grieving. But between making cups of coffee, I've been doing some remembering.

My life changed, radically, when Jesus came to stay with us for the first time. I adore my sister, Mary, but I always know that when there's a lot of work to be done, I should be prepared to take the lead if I want to see it done well.
Of course I wanted everything to be just perfect when Jesus came to stay. I wanted him to feel really comfortable and welcome here.
I must admit, I was a bit put off when Jesus called me out, saying I was anxious and worried about many things. I was trying to do the right thing!
But Jesus was calling Mary and I both to something greater - to be his disciples, his friends, to be present to him and receive his wisdom and love.
I've never looked at my work or my sister the same way since.

So when Lazarus got sick a couple months ago and was on the brink of death, I knew we had to call Jesus back to our home. If anyone could save Laz, it would be him. Being with Jesus was indescribable. It was like the world stopped when you sat at his feet.
I believed he was the Son of God, and I knew it with all my heart when he did the impossible and brought my brother back from the dead, and after four days, at that!
It was like a dream - I couldn't believe it. Jesus made true his words that even those who died could live, incredible!

Jesus took a huge risk by coming back to Bethany and to our house. Mary's friends that were here when Jesus raised Laz got pretty perturbed when they saw what Jesus was capable of doing in God's name. They went straight to the Sanhedrin and said that Jesus presented a threat to our stability as a nation.

I can't help but think that raising Laz from the dead might've been what started all of this that brought Jesus to death. What if Jesus hadn't raised my brother, or if he'd done so privately, when no one was looking? Would Jesus still be around today, spending another night eating supper in our home?
In some ways, I feel responsible. After all, I was the one who went into town and brought Jesus here to see if he could help Laz. The dream of my brother's new life has become a nightmare.

I proclaimed so confidently, once, that he was the Messiah, that God would do whatever he asked. Now I'm not so sure. Jesus could bring people from the dead through the power of God, but what now?
Those who were threatened by him killed him. They took my friend and my hero, Jesus. Their fear, their hatred, it was too much.
He said he was the Resurrection, that those who believed in him would live, even if they died. But what good is that now? What does it mean, if they killed the one I professed as Messiah?
If only God could do for him what he did for Laz... oh, I can't bring myself to speak it. It's too much to even consider...