This is the fifth and final Sunday in Lent. In today’s gospel reading, it is the Saturday night before a crowd lined the streets of Jerusalem to give Jesus a parade, throw palm branches in his path, and sing, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” (v. 13). In spite of that enthusiastic welcome, by the following Friday night, Jesus was in a grave.
In the previous few weeks, it was increasingly evident that things were headed in that direction. There had been serious run-ins with the religious authorities. Jesus had predicted his death and John told us there was already a plan to make his death a reality (8:21-30; 11:45-56).
On this particular Saturday evening, however, Jesus and the apostles took a respite from worry. They accepted an invitation to dinner in Bethany, a small crossroads village only two miles from Jerusalem (John 11:28). The party was being held at the home of Martha, her sister Mary, and their brother Lazarus. All the people at the party were already acquainted with one another. The evening promised to be one of rest, relaxation, food, and fellowship. Lazarus is an old friend not only of Jesus, but at least a few of the apostles (John 11:31). Not all that long ago, Jesus altered his preaching schedule to go to Bethany and resuscitate Lazarus from the dead. On a different occasion, Jesus stopped for lunch at Martha’s house and had a wonderful afternoon of conversation with Mary (Luke 10:38-42).
The evening delivered on its promises. Per usual, the food Martha prepared was delicious. The service was impeccable. The conversation was uplifting. It was a great evening. Before Jesus and the apostles said their “good-byes,” Mary slipped quietly out of the room. She returned carrying an incredibly expensive jar of perfume. It was said to be worth nearly a full year’s wages (v. 5, footnote m). Mary broke the seal on the jar, knelt before Jesus, and washed his feet with the perfume. The gospel tells us the fragrance of the perfume filled the house (v. 3).
That is no benign observation. The smell of the ancient world was strong and offensive. Deodorants were unavailable. Bathing habits fell far short of our standard. There was no weekly garbage pick-up service. Raw sewage flowed down the city streets, not through underground pipes to a city waste treatment facility. Daily life in the ancient world was filled with unpleasant odors.
On that particular night, Mary used perfume to express her thanks to Jesus for the restored life of Lazarus and for the friendship of Jesus. She wanted Jesus to experience the cool, comforting sensations of nard before he resumed his journey toward Golgotha. She accomplished that with this perfume that drove out every trace of bad smell in that room and replaced it with the fragrant scent of angels’ breath. You can almost hear singing in the background, “There is a sweet, sweet spirit in this place and I know it is the presence of the Lord.”
That holy moment ended abruptly. Judas Iscariot, the apostle who was to betray Jesus, spoke: “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (v. 5). I imagine that remark elicited an audible gasp.
What Judas said had an element of practical truth. Perfume worth a year’s salary would buy truckloads of food and clothing for the poor. Stretching out a helping hand to the poor is central to a meaningful practice of one’s faith. By any reasonable standard, it was an over-the-top extravagance to spend that much money on foot washing. On the other hand, that truth is beside the point. Although incredibly important, responding to the plight of the poor was not on this particular evening’s agenda.
This night was devoted to the physical and spiritual renewal of the dinner guests. Mary’s gesture was a magnanimous act of love and thanksgiving. In spite of the truth in Judas’ comment, what, when, and how he made his point belittled Mary’s thoughtful gesture and transformed the mood at the dinner. The fragrant scent of a sweet, sweet spirit was sucked out of the room and replaced by the stench of moldy blanket faultfinding.
This is not the only time Jesus experienced a negative comment destroying a special moment. Consider an event recorded in Luke 4. On a weekend visit to his hometown of Nazareth, Jesus went to the synagogue for worship. When asked to speak, our Lord read a short passage from the book of Isaiah that began, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.” When finished, Jesus rerolled the scroll, handed it back to the attendant, sat down, and preached a brief homily on how that passage applied to him. Luke said very explicitly that “all spoke well of him (Jesus) and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”
Almost immediately this “Welcome Home Jesus” atmosphere was interrupted by a fellow sitting on the back pew. (To paraphrase) “Hey, just hold on a minute. Isn’t that the guy who grew up on Carpenter Street? Isn’t he one of Joseph’s kids? I think I remember he played on the same Little League team with my son. Who does he think he is? How does he think he can lay claim to the prophecy of Isaiah? This Jesus is just like every other kid who grew up in Nazareth. There is nothing special about him.”
There ensued a brief back and forth conversation between Jesus and the audience. In a matter of minutes the attitude of the people in the synagogue went from wonderful to terrible. Those who “spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth” transmogrified into a mob “filled with rage.” These angry people threatened to throw Jesus off a cliff at the edge of the city. Such was the devastating possibility of one person making an offhand, negative, faultfinding remark.
This is still an issue in our time. All of us have been in situations where someone played the part of the Judas at the dinner party in Bethany or the guy in the back pew at the Nazareth synagogue. These are the faultfinders who love to point out what is wrong with every person, idea, and situation. These are the nitpickers who complain about a mole hill problem until it becomes a mountain.
Collectively, I call these folks the “aginners.” It doesn’t matter what it is, they are “agin” it. “Aginners” are in every family, every church, every place of employment, and every neighborhood. In advanced years they can be identified as the ones who grumble, “In my life I have seen thousands of changes and I have been ‘agin’ every one of them.”
Among the most readily identified groups who are really good at being negative are the talking heads on cable news, the familiar voices of talk radio, as well as those who use websites and social media as platforms to launch attacks on people and ideas they do not like. They come from across the political and ideological spectrum. Each in his or her way applies invective to mock, belittle, and even mischaracterize the worldviews, political opinions, and lifestyles of those who offend them. This group not only seems to understand the devastating influence of nay-saying, faultfinding, and nitpicking, it is their stock in trade. Unfortunately, their collective intolerance contributes significantly to damaging the social fabric that holds us together as a people.
The vast majority of those who are good at faultfinding, nay-saying, and nitpicking do not gain public notoriety. They are everyday people who just happen to be good at making negative comments. Sometimes they don’t seem to fully understand the influence they have. In fact, sometimes I am not certain they are even aware they are “aginners.”
I once knew a minister who was an “aginner.” Our paths crossed frequently in ministerial retreats, meetings, conferences, workshops, and social settings. This fellow had a remarkable ability to faultfind and nitpick. To illustrate, when a speaker finished and opened the meeting for questions, this fellow always had something to say. Seldom were any of his comments positive. Instead, he liked to point out factual errors and correct for omissions in the speaker’s presentation. He was very well-read. Consequently, he loved to articulate a counterpoint to the speaker’s point. He also had a remarkable ability to spot the flaw in the speaker’s thesis.
When I first met this fellow, I was enamored by what I considered his intelligence and analytical powers. In time I realized that being an “aginner” requires no special skill. We live in an imperfect world filled with imperfect people. Every person, idea, and plan is less than perfect. Something is always wrong. It doesn’t take any special gift to point that out. “Aginners” only tear things down, turn enthusiasm into carping, and poison the well with negative their commentary. Nitpicking, nay-saying, faultfinders seldom participate in the far more demanding task of making a positive contribution.
This minister was always polite. He was not arrogant or angry in his demeanor. He didn’t seem to hunger for the group’s attention. Rather than malevolent he seemed motivated only to perform a helpful service for the speaker and the group. I certainly do not think he set out to join the ranks of Judas at the dinner party in Bethany or the fellow on the back pew in Nazareth. Yet that is exactly what he did.
So how do we deal with the devastating influence of nay-saying, nitpicking, and faultfinding? Let me suggest three important principles.
First, don’t underestimate the enormous amount of power wielded by the “aginner.” With a raised eyebrow or a demeaning comment, a nasty letter to the editor, or a derogatory anonymous letter, an “aginner” can blow a worthwhile idea out of the water. He can suck the air out of the most self-confident person. She can turn a crowd from cheering to jeering with an off-hand remark. Do not underestimate the power of the negative.
Second, beware that you and your words have that same power on other people. Your off-hand, unthinking remarks can be devastating to others. All of us are capable of saying things to people who love and respect us that hurt and demoralize them. We can justify it by claiming we were acting in that person’s best interest. However, we need to keep in mind this unwelcome principle of our humanness. A negative comment delivered by someone loved and respected carries ten times the power of a positive comment. That means that in our relationships with those closest to us, just to keep things in proper balance, we need to be giving ten positive comments for every negative one. Never underestimate the devastating influence of faultfinding, nitpicking, and nay-saying.
Third, resist the temptation to establish your worth or your authority by being an “aginner.” It is an easy expertise to develop, but it contributes very little to the common good.
We interact with “aginners” on an almost every day basis. They are all around us. From time to time, most of us perform that function. We cannot do away with the authority of the “aginner,” but we can minimize it by being aware of the power we give to it.
And may God grant to each of us the strength and wisdom to avoid joining the ranks of Judas and all the other unrestrained “aginners.” Instead may we seek and practice the wisdom of Proverbs (16:24): “Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.”
Oh Lord, may it be so. Amen and amen.