Luke 10:38-42 · At the Home of Martha and Mary
A Lady With A Listening Ear · Mary Of Bethany
Luke 10:38-42
Sermon
by Gordon Pratt Baker
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There are as many ways to witness as there are witnesses. Not everyone can be like Andrew, who never met a stranger, or Peter, whose eloquence brought thousands to Jesus. (Acts 2:14-42) But one thing is sure. Each of us has a witness to bear.

I

For Mary of Bethany the witness took the form of the hours she spent at Jesus' feet. It was an act of devotion the very sight of which must have spoken as tellingly to her neighbors as anything she might have said to them. It was not that she would have been content merely to sit mutely before Jesus. On the contrary. She would undoubtedly have lost no opportunity to share with her neighbors the gist of her conversations with him.

Granted, there were always the Twelve to whom she might expect the Master to turn when he felt the need to talk. But they were so involved in what was happening that they frequently lost sight of the forest for the trees. (Mark 9:30-32; Luke 18:31-34; John 10:6) Mary, on the other hand, had no such difficulty. For she had long since developed a sensitivity to the needs of others, like Walt Whitman attesting centuries later:

I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.

So Mary could listen to Jesus receptively, hearing behind his words the dreams and the disappointments, the concerns and the commitments that pursued his days. As a consequence she could respect his silences, supporting them with her own and thus reverently affording him the reassurance he needed that he was understood.

II

Inevitably the hours Mary had thus devoted to Jesus had sharpened her own perceptive spirit. For as he spoke her vision of the kind of world he had come to establish both broadened and deepened, welling up in her a determination to do all she could in support of his appointed mission. Nor did she permit the determination to lie fallow. If she could be a listener, then why not a witness? After all, who could introduce others to Jesus more effectively than one who lived his dreams with him? But even more than that, Mary had a ready-made field of operation in which to do so.

With her sister Martha and her brother Lazarus Mary lived in a village approximately two miles from Jerusalem at the base of the Mount of Olives, which was popularly held to be the "foot-stool of God." Consequently there was a steady flow of pilgrims to it along the three roads converging at her door just a Sabbath day's journey from Jerusalem. Nor was there any let-up in the traffic the roads carried since tradition held that David had worshipped God on the Mount at a site offering no mean attraction to the pious. To Mary such an unbroken procession offered an opportunity for witnessing too good to ignore. So together with her brother Lazarus and her sister Martha she had pursued an open-door policy welcoming into their Bethany home any who had become fatigued or footsore.

It was an ideal setting for witnessing; for having already demonstrated an interest in the individual to whom she was providing the opportunity to rest she could feel free to go a step farther and share with her guest a stirring testimonial to Jesus. To be sure, she would have done it quietly and gracefully as befit her nature; but she would have done it no less tellingly, encouraging the individual to speak a good word for Jesus wherever he or she went.

It is speculation, of course, but who is to say that at least some of the saints welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem on the day of his triumphal entry may not at some point have experienced the hospitality Mary and her kin had tendered weary travelers at their Bethany hearth?

III

Only once, so far as the scriptures tell us, did Mary witness to Jesus publicly. Beginning what was to prove his last journey to Jerusalem the Master had apparently made arrangements to spend the Sabbath with Mary's little family and their friends, confident that in their home he would not only obtain the rest he so sorely needed, he would also share heart-warming exchanges such as only good friends can stimulate to lift the spirit. In addition -- for a while, at least -- it would shield him from the ominous circumstances he had been warned were building up against him.

It was six days before the Passover and to show their affection for Jesus his Bethany friends decided to spread a banquet in his honor. Actually, it was to be the Sabbath festive meal and accordingly open to the public. So it promised to be a memorable event.

Simon the Leper -- so-called because sometime in the past he had fallen victim to Palestine's most dreaded disease -- was asked to host the meal. (John 12:1) That he would carry its scars to his grave goes without saying. But he must have been ritually free of it at the time of Jesus' testimonial dinner. Otherwise no Jew would have dared to eat with him, not only for fear of contracting the awesome ailment, but equally as much for fear of becoming ceremonially unclean by reason of association and thus barred from society. (Leviticus 13:45-46)

Mary's sister, Martha, was asked to cater the meal and promptly agreed to do so, calling upon a corps of her friends to assist her with it. Undoubtedly she had enlisted their help in similar situations before, so their group expertise offered Simon assurance of a memorable evening.

At the same time, however, Martha's acceptance of the responsibility without involving Mary in it barred Mary from the festivities since protocol dictated that only men might share the meal as guests.

For all the occasion's colorful trappings and joyous atmosphere, however, Jesus realized only too keenly that he was experiencing one of his last peaceful moments. For weeks he had been on the move, hounded from one place to another by enemies who even now lurked in the shadows of Simon's gates. (John 12:10) The pleasant feast spread before him and buzzing with lively fellowship, interrupted at times by bursts of boisterous laughter, was only an interlude in the chase as when a winded stag, momentarily eluding its pursuers, pauses to refresh itself at a mountain stream, all the while alert to the grim death poised just beyond its haven.

It was not that Jesus was ungrateful for the display of devotion the banquet was presenting on the part of his friends. It was rather that he was experiencing the sense of loneliness a crowd may unwittingly intensify.

IV

Meanwhile, alone in Martha's house, Mary discovered she could not permit such a high moment in Jesus' life as the banquet being given in his honor to pass without manifesting her devotion to him. So she hastened to her room and took from her hoarded perfumes an alabaster vial of Indian spikenard -- so named after the spiked flower from which it was extracted. Imported at no small cost she had been holding it for just such an occasion as this.

Accordingly, casting her customary decorum to the winds Mary raced the short distance to Simon's crowded house; and, bursting into Jesus' presence, she broke the colorful seal on the gleaming vial and anointed his head and feet with its fragrant contents. Then, falling to her knees before him, she loosed her long tresses -- pride of any Jewish maiden and symbol of her purity as she came to her bridal chamber -- and dried his feet with her hair. (John 12:3)

It was a bold move, suddenly and surprisingly made, that could easily have been taken for the voluptuous advance of a courtesan. But this woman whom everybody in Bethany knew -- indeed, whom they admired and respected from her youth --intent only on honoring Jesus and at the same time on bringing him solace in a trying hour never hesitated for a moment in doing what she did. Rather, so worshipfully did she fulfill her purpose that not even Martha, for all her practical bent, stood unmoved before Mary's display of devotion.

Nor did any other soul present but one.

Judas objected. "Why was this ointment not sold for 300 denarii," he asked, "and given to the poor?" (John 12:5) Unlike all the others witnessing the incident the man from Kerioth was blind to Mary's symbolism. Anointings were performed at coronations; (1 Samuel 10:1) and so far as Mary was concerned Jesus was the King of kings. Moreover, to her he would always be that. Not even death could end his sovereignty for her. For life, she was convinced, does not end at the grave since love does not end there. Hence Mary was proclaiming to all standing about her -- and beyond them to the world -- that Jesus would be the King of her life through all the days it pleased God to give her.

It was a proclamation that must have come to Jesus as one bright spot in a darkening hour. For it assured him that whenever his time came, and in whatever manner, he would be loved to the end. Nor would his cause die with him, the proclamation assured. (Matthew 26:13) For his mission of love would live on in the love of persons like Mary.

CSS Publishing Company, A CLOUD OF WITNESSES, by Gordon Pratt Baker