In the Rob Reiner film, "This is Spinal Tap" a satirical documentary about a fictitious hard rock band, the guitarist is bragging to the interviewer about their amplifiers.  "While their volume knobs go up to ten, ours go to eleven giving us just a bit more juice when you really want it." The interviewer challenges him stating their amplifiers are not really louder, but simply have eleven printed where others have ten.  "Why don't you just have ten like everyone else?" asks the interviewer.  The guitarist pauses for a time, looks dumbfounded, his face suggesting he realizes his foolishness.  He finally replies, "Ours go to eleven."

In the gospel for today (John 12:1-11) we hear those who are working to kill Jesus are now working to kill Lazarus as well, "...since it was on account of him (Lazarus) many were deserting and were believing in Jesus."  The insidiousness of murdering to solve a dilemma has now grown to incorporate a second planned murder.  Lazarus is an inconvenient truth.

How many times have I chosen to ignore, pretend about, and deny things that do not cooperate with what I wish to believe.  How many times have I denied truths about myself and others in order to avoid the work of change. Inconvenient truths indeed.

I am in a small, ecumenical study group one of whose members is from what would be labeled a conservative, evangelical Southern Baptist congregation.  I found myself deeply moved recently when he was talking about an incredibly mature course of action the congregation had chosen.  I replied, tongue in cheek, "Please stop telling me this.  You are messing with my prejudices."

As we continue our pilgrimage to Jerusalem this week we will likely confront truths inconvenient to our lives; truths about ourselves and others, perhaps even truths about God.  These truths will need to travel to Jerusalem. They will need to be offered up, allowed to die. In freeing ourselves from their illusion, we are freeing ourselves from death.

Blessed Holy Week,

Todd Donatelli