INSERT <ADVERB> HERE
Whenever I sat down with my piano teacher and a new piece of music, she would ask me three questions before I even looked at the notes. What is the time signature? What key is it in? What are the dynamics?
Dynamics are cues that tell you how loud or soft to play the notes. They change throughout the piece, accenting some parts, building up others. Without them, music sounds bland or directionless.
I’ve heard today’s Gospel a million times, and I’m starting to hear it without dynamics. Jesus says that someone will betray Him. A chorus of “Nope. Not me” (or something like that) echoes around the table without response until we get to Judas. He says:
Judas: Surely it is not I?
Jesus: You have said so.
What are the dynamics of Judas’ question? How does He ask Jesus? I mean, He obviously knows the answer. He has a pocket full of silver to prove it. How would the question sound with different dynamics?
“Surely it is not I?” Judas said ashamedly.
Was Judas feeling guilty? Was Judas avoiding Jesus?
When I come to the Lord, do I avoid the truth? Do I live in guilt, waiting for punishment?
“Surely it is not I,” Judas said confidently.
Was Judas disillusioned, daring Jesus to prove him wrong?
When I come to the Lord, do I pretend to know more than Him?
“Surely it is not I,” Judas said suspiciously.
Was Judas testing Jesus?
When I come to the Lord, do I test His power? His love? His patience?
Adverbs aren’t a strength of the Gospel writers, but it leaves room for me to write my own dynamics. It allows me to enter the story. This weekend, I’m going to listen...not only what was said, but how it may have been said...by Jesus, the disciples, the Jewish authorities, and the crowd.
How do I come to the Lord this Triduum? What are my dynamics?
Teresa Nygard