“But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ “ (John 12:4-6)
You’ve got to admit that Judas had a point. His was the voice of sweet reasonableness. “Let’s not let ourselves get carried away,” he said, “Let’s not jump off the deep end. This is wasteful extravagance. This costly perfume could be sold and the money given to the poor.” Never mind that the author of the Fourth Gospel suggests that Judas’ motives were not entirely altruistic. Never mind that John suggests that at the top of the list of Judas’ favorite charities was Judas himself. Never mind that, as treasurer of the little band of disciples, Judas may have had his hand in the till. Whatever the truth of that accusation, Judas had a point. The perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor. It was no small amount of money, either! Judas says that the perfume was worth 300 denarii. (Leave it to him to know the cost of everything.) Our footnote to this text tells us that three hundred denarii would be nearly a year’s wages for a laborer, and so Mary was wasting on Jesus something worth almost a year’s work! Judas’ objection sounds most reasonable in this context. There is only one problem with it. Jesus did not see it that way at all. I wonder why not?
Let us consider the setting. It was the last week of our Lord’s earthly life. John says that it was “six days before the Passover” (12:1) The Passover meal was prepared on the 14th day of the Jewish month Nisan, and eaten on the 15th day, which began at sundown. According to the Fourth gospel, Jesus was crucified on Friday and the meal which Jesus ate with His friends the night before was not the Passover meal unless the view of some scholars is correct that there may have been more than one religious calendar observed in Jerusalem in Jesus’ day. (Some scholars suggest that what we call “Maundy Thursday” may have really been “Maundy Wednesday,” or “Maundy Tuesday,” but I digress.) “Six days before the Passover” which occurred that year on the Sabbath (Saturday) was the preceding Sunday. On that day Jesus arrived in Bethany, the “bedroom community” of Jerusalem, just over the Mount of Olives from Jerusalem where Jesus often retired to rest during the hectic events of that last week in His life. Today, the village is called “el-Azariyeh,” from the Greek Lazarion, “the place of Lazarus.” The only people from Bethany mentioned in this Gospel are Lazarus, and his two sisters Mary and Martha. This implies that Jesus was staying at their home and that the supper recorded was served there. The fact that Martha served the meal confirms this. Lazarus was present, he whom Jesus had raised from the dead, and who was the object of a considerable amount of natural curiosity among the townspeople. But at this particular meal Lazarus’ sister Mary was the center of attention. She took a pound of costly ointment or perfume and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair. A rather unusual spectacle, to say the least. In Mark 14 we have the story of an unnamed woman breaking a jar of ointment and pouring it over Jesus’ head. In Luke 7 a woman who is called a “sinner” washes Jesus’ feet with her tears and wipes them with her loosened hair, then anoints them with ointment. The stories in Luke and John are most similar. Do they refer to the same event, and the same woman? Was the unnamed “sinful woman” Mary of Bethany? Often that woman is identified with Mary Magdalene; wrongly, I suspect. (Mary Magdalene has gotten a “bad press” over the years.) We wish that we knew but we will leave it to the Biblical commentators to try and sort out the relationship between the several similar stories of an anointing in the New Testament record.
Jesus was reclining on a couch to eat, which was the ancient custom. Mary could easily approach Jesus’ feet as He reclined with His head at the edge of the table. And John says that is just what she did. But Judas Iscariot did not like it one bit. He objected that her lavish display was too extravagant. The perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor. As I said, his objection sound eminently reasonable. Jesus certainly had sympathy for the poor, and often condemned wasteful luxury. Indeed, if there is one primary difference between our Lord and most of the rest of us it is that He cared passionately for the poor. Indeed, the whole Bible seems to be prejudiced in favor of the poor. Most of us say, “Why don’t they go out and get a job? Why don’t they lift themselves up by their own bootstraps?” Never mind that they may not even have boots! In fact, we have even used Jesus’ rebuke to Judas on that occasion as an excuse for our insensitivity toward the poor and needy. Jesus said, “The poor you will always have with you.” I have heard that used by professing Christians as an excuse for doing nothing to aid the poor. What those who use Jesus’ words in that way fail to realize is that he was quoting Scripture. And the Scripture He was quoting does not give anyone an excuse for not giving to the poor. Precisely the opposite. Let me quote it for you. You find it in Deuteronomy 15:11: “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’ “ Certainly no excuse for not giving to the poor there! In Mark’s Gospel, which most scholars believe to be the earliest to have been written down, the thought is completed when Mark has Jesus say, “For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me.” (Mark 14:7) So: we can always find occasions to give to the poor, just as we can always find excuses for not doing so.
It seems, then, that what is mistakenly believed to give us an excuse for doing nothing is really Jesus’ mandate to do everything in our power. Indeed, if there was any prejudice in the heart of our Lord, it seems that he was prejudiced on behalf of the poor. It is recorded that He once said that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God (Cf. Mark 10:25 and Luke 18:25). Now, some commentators would have us believe that the word has been mistakenly translated. They say that a slight slip of the pen on the part of some ancient scribe transformed the Greek word kamilos (rope) into kamelos (camel). It would be hard to pass a rope through the eye of a needle, but I guess you could do it if you tried hard enough: perhaps one strand at a time. (But the Greek word kamilos actually refers to a ship’s hawser, so the picture would still be ridiculus!) Others have suggested that “the eye of the needle” refers to a small doorway in the walled city of Jerusalem, and I have had guides point this doorway out to me. Perhaps with enough effort and animal fat to grease up the ugly beast the deed could be accomplished! But all of these arguments sound suspicious to me. We have been buttering up that camel and trying to get him through the eye of the needle for some twenty centuries now, and the whole effort seems futile to me. I think that Jesus was indulging here in his penchant for hyperbole, and reminding his hearers that the poor, indeed, have a special place in the heart of God. So, I wonder why Jesus did not agree with Judas on that occasion recorded in our Scripture lesson?
Probably because He knew that there is a time and place for everything. We must remember that this whole event takes place in the shadow of the cross. His rebuke to Judas is difficult to translate. “Let her alone,” He says, “let her keep it for the day of my burial.” But how could that be? She had just wasted it by pouring it out. How could she keep it for the day of His burial when she had already poured it out? Here again we have to look at the other three Synoptic Gospels for a clue to the meaning. Mark’s Gospel is as good a place as any to start. And he has Jesus saying, “She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” (Mark 14:8-9) To understand His words, we must know a couple of things about the customs of Jesus’ day. We know that precious ointment was used for embalming purposes, and perfume for obvious reasons in that hot climate. But what we may not realize is that the Hebrew word Messiah and the Greek equivalent Christ really mean “the anointed one.” Mary, in her own small way, was making the same confession of faith in Jesus that Peter made in that dramatic moment in Caesarea Philippi when Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?’ and Peter blurted out the central affirmation of the Christian faith: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!” The big difference is that when Jesus told Peter of His forthcoming suffering and death, Peter recoiled in horror, saying, “God forbid, Lord! This shall never happen to you!” Peter simply could not comprehend a Messiah, God’s anointed One, suffering on behalf of others; but Mary saw clearly what it meant for Jesus to be the Messiah, the anointed One, the Suffering Servant of God, whose suffering and subsequent death would somehow redeem the world. So the meaning of verses 7 and 8 here might be: “Let her alone. Let her perform her act of love now so that, by anticipation, she may prepare my body for the burial which will soon come. She need not save the ointment. It is proper for her to pour it out in this way. If you are really concerned for the poor, then let her example of generosity inspire you to use the daily opportunities you have to help them. They are always present, and always in need of your help. But this is a special occasion. The time to show this kind of lovingkindness to me in the flesh is almost past. Soon the only way you can show it in the future is by pouring out your lives for others.” (In this regard, we should re-read Matthew, chapter 25.)
Jesus seems to be saying that there is a time and place for everything. There are some things which we can do most any time, and others which we will never do, unless we do them when the opportunity presents itself. Life is an uncertain thing. Often we are moved to utter some word of thanks or praise or encouragement, but we put it off. We may feel awkward or shy. And it may be that when we get around to doing it the person we wish to speak to will be gone from this earth (as Jesus, in our story, was soon to be). One tragic story from the world of literature illustrates this. The great Scots writer Thomas Carlyle loved his wife Jane Welsh Carlyle, but you would never have guessed it from his conduct toward her. He was an irritable, harsh-tempered, close-mouthed man and he never really made life very easy for her. Then, unexpectedly, she died. His biographer writes, “He was looking through her papers, her notebooks, and her journals; and old scenes came mercilessly back to him in the vistas of mournful memory. In his long and sleepless nights, he recognized too late what she had felt and suffered under his childish irritabilities. His faults rose up in remorseless judgment, and as he had thought too little of them before, so now he exaggerate them to himself in helpless repentance. Oh,’ he cried again and again, If I could see her but once more, were it but for five minutes, to let her know that I always loved her through all that. She never did know it, never!” (Barclay, William: Daily Study Bible, Phila: The Westminster Press, 1956, p.131) Yes, there is a time for doing and saying things, and when that time is past, they can never be said or done. I think it was Christopher Morley who once said that if we all knew that we had but one day left to live we would fill the telephone booths of the world calling up persons to tell them that we love them. That’s a very profound insight. Why don’t we do it now? Mary somehow knew that Jesus’ days were numbered. She wondered what she could do to let Him know of her great love for Him. Then she remembered the jar of precious ointment or perfume she had been saving for a special occasion. She would do this one, last, lavish, extravagant act of love.
Jesus said that the beauty of this one woman’s deed would not go unremembered, and it hasn’t. Wouldn’t it surprise her to know that we are discussing it here, some twenty centuries later? To be sure, the perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor, but would we still be talking about her deed had she done so? She could have bought bread for the hungry, but people have deeper needs than bread, as Jesus reminded us. There are deeper spiritual needs in every human being which must be met. We are more than mouths to be fed and bodies to be clothed. Some years ago I was invited by an African-American pastor friend to attend the dedication of a new church building and sanctuary. The guest preacher was a black minister from Harlem, and he preached one of the most stirring dedicatory sermons I have ever heard. He said that in his church they had just finished raising $250,000 for a new church organ. As usual, there were critics who sided with Judas and said that the money could have been better used for another purpose. It could have been given to the poor, as Judas said. I will never forget this minister’s reply. He said, “What could I get for the poor for $250,000? 125,000 Big Macs’? The people would be hungry the next day and we still wouldn’t have an organ!” The food would have lasted but a few hours, but the organ will inspire countless thousands of people down through the years, people who would walk out of that church with a light in their eye and a spring in their step that would last longer than any hamburger! We do not live by bread alone, nor by “Big Macs’, either. Ralph Sockman was right when he once said that Jesus was always on the side of the poor, but he also said, in commenting on our text, “If we wish to measure the value of that perfume in Bethany, we must talk, not in terms of denarii as the disciples did, but in terms of millions...millions of dollars given, millions of hearts gladdened. Was that truly a waste?’ I think not. At any rate, Jesus thought not, and that, after all, is all that really matters.”
Jesus commended this woman for her love. He often invited people to “count the cost” before following Him, but He also honored those who flung themselves away in the glorious adventure of discipleship without counting the cost. There are times when a balanced budget is not the most important thing in life. It may come as a shock to some church members, but the ultimate purpose of the Church is not to have a balanced budget at the end of the year! That is not the purpose of the Church. Ministry is the purpose. Love laughs at balanced budgets. As Ralph Sockman said so well in commenting on this passage many years ago, when a child in the family is ill, the parents do not say, “I wonder whether we can afford to get a doctor.” No. We get the doctor and hang the cost! Our world is desperately ill, and the Church has healing balm to lay upon its fevered brow. Why should the Church’s ministry continually be hampered because we think we cannot afford to do what Christ has clearly commanded us to do: “Go into all the world and proclaim the Good News to every living creature”?
One can only wonder what God thinks of our profuse professions of faith on Sunday morning when he sees what a penurious job we have done of carrying out our stewardship of time, talent, and treasure. I once saw a cartoon of a horror-stricken woman sitting at her writing desk, saying, “Good heavens! I accidentally sent the church our $12.00 check which was to go for dog food and sent the $2.00 check to the dog food company.” What are our priorities, anyway? What about our professions of faith and discipleship? Most of the time most of us sound very much like the fainthearted suitor who sent the following love note to his girl friend: “Dear Anne, for you I would climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest river, trudge across the wildest desert. I love you. P.S. I’ll be over to see you on Saturday if it doesn’t rain!”
Jesus must have been looking at the spirit of this woman’s deed even more than the deed itself. That is why he said to Judas and the disciples, “Why do you hassle her? She has done a beautiful thing for me...” She was not a rich friend dispensing charity to a poor Carpenter from Galilee. If her motive had been charity she would have sold the perfume and given Jesus the money. Perhaps she should have, I don’t know. But I do know that in that one moment of reckless, careless abandon she poured out her life and her love. And Jesus honored that. The great philosophical theologian Paul Tillich, in his famous book “The New Being” once wrote: “Jesus...knew that without the abundance of the heart nothing great can happen. (He) knew that religion within the limits of reasonableness is a mutilated religion, and that calculating love is not love at all... He saw the abundant heart and He accepted it without analyzing the different elements in it.” He concludes: “The history of mankind is the history of men and women who wasted themselves and were not afraid to do so.” He might have mentioned Albert Schweitzer who buried himself in Africa with his three doctor’s degrees, Martin Luther King wasting himself to help striking garbage collectors in Memphis, or Mother Teresa wasting herself amongst Calcutta’s poor. He did mention Jesus, the Anointed One, wasting Himself upon a cross. He called it “Holy Waste.” And he said, “People are sick not only because they have not received love, but also because they are not allowed to give love, to waste themselves.”
The sheer extravagant generosity of Mary’s gift makes it memorable. Years ago Prof. Paul Scherer of Union Theological Seminary wrote a little book of devotions titled, “Love Is A Spendthrift!” Do you know what a spendthrift is? Here is the dictionary definition: “One who spends money lavishly or wastefully. Extremely lavish, prodigal.” That last word struck me. Prodigal? That’s what we call the boy in Jesus’ famous story in Luke 15: “The Prodigal Son.” But that is quite wrong, isn’t it? It should be called the story of “The Prodigal Parent,” for the father in the story lavished his love extravagantly and wastefully on the wayward son. Jesus said that God is like that. God lavishes His love wastefully and extravagantly on us. I think that St. Paul should have added the adjective to his famous definition of love in I Corinthians 13. He implies it, but he should have come right out and said, “Love is extravagant.” True love always is. Halford Luccock once contrasted those persons who pour themselves out in lavish self-forgetfulness with others who always measure themselves out with a medicine dropper, frightened lest they spend a drop more than the legalities of the situation demand. Do you know any people like that? I do. They are miserable, unhappy people. They are calculating, conservative people who try to do a little good here and there but who never know the joy of giving themselves wholeheartedly and joyfully to anybody or anything. There was a slogan that used to be used by a greeting-card company: “When you care enough to give the very best.” Well, God cared enough to give the very best—His only Son for the redemption of the world. The real question is: what are we willing to give in return? Love is extravagant. Mary cared enough to give her very best. And Jesus honored her for that.
Do you remember O Henry’s famous little story with a trick ending titled “The Gift of the Magi”? It is a Christmas story of a young couple named Della and Jim, very poor, but very much in love. Each wanted to give the other the very finest Christmas present. But each had only one unique possession. Della’s hair was literally her crowning glory. When she let it down it almost served her as a robe. Jim had a gold watch which had come to him from his father and which was his pride and joy. It was the day before Christmas, and Della had exactly one dollar and eighty-seven cents to buy a gift for Jim. So she did the only thing she could think of: she went out and sold her beautiful hair for twenty dollars. With the proceeds she bought Jim a platinum watch fob for his precious watch. Jim came home that night. When he saw Della’s shorn head he stopped as though struck with an axe. It was not that he did not like her new hair style or did not love her any more. Indeed, she was lovelier than ever to him. But slowly he handed her his gift. His gift was a set of expensive tortoise-shell hair combs with jeweled edges for her lovely long hair. He had sold his gold watch to buy them for her. Each had given the other all he or she had to give. Real love cannot think of any other way to give, for true love is, indeed, extravagant. God’s love certainly is. And, if we are to truly be God’s children, ours must be also. Amen.