It was Friday afternoon at 2:30 when I took my place on a street corner in front of the courthouse. The temperature was 32 degrees and the sky was grey as snow flurried around us. I came to join a small group in a vigil protesting the death penalty and executions.

I held a sign that said: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Others held signs that read: “Stop executions” and “Do not kill in my name.” Some passersby honked in support, some drove by without reaction and others gestured in disagreement.

It was a simple and quiet witness. Until suddenly, a young woman came running to us, clad in a short jacket that was open to the cold, no hat, no gloves, shivering and frantically murmuring, over and over, “Someone is going to kill me.”

We looked around and saw no one. I repeatedly reassured her that there was no one that was going to kill her … until a jeep turned the corner. The driver stopped mid-street and brutally stared down the woman. She took off running in the opposite direction, as the jeep went to the next corner to turn around and follow her. I called 911 and made my own frantic report, describing what had happened and providing the Jeep’s license plate.

Then, I returned to the corner holding my sign, staring into the distance, haunted by the question, “Why didn’t I try to take her to a shelter?” Jesus words echoed in me: “The poor, you will always have with you and whenever you wish, you can do good to them.” I had done something, but had I done enough? I don’t think so.

We enter Holy Week with the proclaiming of the Passion and death of Jesus. We have heard it innumerable times, but it remains powerful and moving. We are moved at the Last Supper when Jesus shares his Body and Blood. We are saddened by the apostles deserting Jesus in the garden and angered by the high priests and Pilate and by Peter’s three denials. We identify with Simon of Cyrene as he carries Jesus’ cross and by Joseph of Arimathea’s courage. We shudder as we hear the cold stone rolled against the entrance to the tomb.

But we are also blessed to know that the story of our salvation does not end there in death. There will be the Alleluias of Easter to lift us up and to complete all that has happened. And while we may know the outcome, it will still remain the greatest mystery of all time.

Edited and adapted from Peggy Ekerdt and Dominic Grassi, by Lloyd Baugh S.J.