I understand there is an organization in Colorado called, "Dare to Be Dull." I am not
a joiner, but I think I may have found my people. Their mission statement
reads, "We try to reach out to all other people out there who actually like
jell-o and washing their own cars, but have been afraid to admit it."
Actually I don't like jell-o. And I hate to wash my car. So
I may be a wilder, crazier guy than I thought. But on the other hand, I leave a
meeting, somebody leaves with me, and comments, "That was the dullest meeting
that I have ever been to." I say, "Yes. Wasn't it wonderful."
I am also uncomfortable with certain emotional
demonstrations. Which is probably why I am a Methodist, a
modern one anyway. The old Methodists for a while in their history were
shouters and dancers. In those days the "shakers and movers" was not a term for
those at city hall, but for those in church. Some Methodists in those days, one
hundred and fifty years ago, were a part of that. But I can't see myself
dancing in the aisles. If I had lived in those days, I probably would have been
an Episcopalian. There would be no surprises then.
So I am uncomfortable with our lesson for this morning,
Mary pouring out all that perfume on Jesus' feet, then wiping it with her hair.
It is a public display of spontaneous and extravagant emotion. Why would she do
such a thing? What does it mean?
It shocked the disciples, especially Judas. The Gospel of
John mentions that. The Gospel of John is unrelenting in its vilification of
Judas. John identifies Judas as the treasurer of the band of disciples, which
is interesting, since they had taken a vow of poverty. Anyway, it says as the
treasurer of the band it was his practice to embezzle the funds of the
organization. So when Judas says, "Why was this perfume not sold for three
hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
John puts in parenthesis, like a stage whisper to the reader, "Judas wasn't
interested in the poor, he was only interested in
getting his hands on that money so that he could embezzle it."
Which I say is uncalled for, unfair, and probably untrue.
It is very awkward being in a position of defending Judas, but I simply point
to the evidence. All four gospels include this story. In the other gospels,
Matthew, Mark and Luke, everybody is astonished at what this woman does to
Jesus, the "Anointing of Jesus," it is called. Everybody is astonished. Only
John names Judas specifically, and discredits him with these scurrilous remarks
about his honesty.
John says Judas was a thief. But a case could be made that
Judas was just the opposite. He is not dishonest, or a thief, or a scoundrel.
He is a thoroughly righteous, upright man, passionately devoted to what is
today called "Zionism," restoring the Jewish homeland. In those days Zionism
was an underground guerrilla movement, trying to defeat militarily the Roman
occupation army. Judas was probably one of them. Probably one of those wanting
to overthrow the occupation, and hoping that Jesus, who was gaining a
reputation as the Messiah, people following him in greater numbers, maybe Jesus
would be the leader of this revolutionary movement.
His betrayal of Jesus on the night of the Last Supper was
indeed an evil deed. But it was rationalized, I am
sure, with the logic of the revolutionary. That is, the ends justify the means.
That is the way revolutionaries think. They all do. They are single-minded.
They are true believers. They've got one agenda. Everything else is a
distraction. Any other alternative is a betrayal of the movement. The only
thing that matters is the cause. So if having something happen to force Jesus
to show his hand, to strip off this uniform of a human being and show himself
as a heavenly warrior, or prompt God to intervene in some way supernaturally,
if something could be done to make those things happen, then it would be a
justifiable act.
Judas betrayed him to force his hand. But he was wrong. It
didn't work. Though God, ironically, did intervene. Not to overthrow the Romans,
but to forgive all those who "know not what they do," including Judas, and give
us all new life.
All this is to say, disregard
John's whispered asides about Judas' integrity. Judas' question is most
appropriate. "Why was this perfume not sold and the
money given to the poor?"
The estimated cost of the perfume, three hundred denarii, would have been equivalent to an average year's
salary to somebody living in Palestine
in those days, two thousand years ago. Just imagine, take twenty thousand
dollars in today's money. Go out and buy a bottle of perfume for twenty
thousand dollars, and then poor it over somebody's feet. Now go tell people
about it and see what their reaction is.
In church we wrestle with the problem of priorities. In my
whole career as a pastor I have wrestled with this. I've heard the same debate
in church meetings for all of these years. We need to spend twenty thousand
dollars on.... We need to spend two hundred thousand dollars on.... We need to
spend two million dollars on.... Somebody in that debate is inevitably going to
stand up and say, "Why are we spending all of this money on ourselves when we
should give it to those who really need it?"
That is not an inappropriate question. That is a typical
Church question. It is the moral question. Church people are concerned about
that. You can't be Christian and spend extravagantly in the face of all of the
misery in this world, the starvation of people, especially children. You can't
do that and be a Christian. So Judas' question is a good question. "Why was this perfume not sold and the money given to the poor?"
It is a good question.
But this story poses the question differently. It asks, is there a time when extravagance is appropriate? The
setting is Mary and Martha's house in Bethany.
The text begins this way.
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of
Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.
Lazarus is Mary and Martha's brother. One can imagine the
emotion that filled that house in those days. Their brother who was dead is now
alive. Jesus raised their brother from the dead. Jesus saved Lazarus. Imagine
that? He brought him back to life. What is the appropriate response to the one
who gives you the gift of new life? What should your response be to God, who
has done what he has done for you in Jesus Christ? How do you respond to that?
That is the background to this story. Jesus, after raising
Lazarus, was invited by Mary and Martha to come over for dinner. It was also
six days before the Passover. It will be on the Passover, according to John,
that Jesus will die. John will point that out. Therefore John implies, Jesus is the Passover Lamb. Jesus is the one who dies for
our sin. He is "the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." He dies
for all of us so that all of us can live. So if the raising of Lazarus from the
dead is in the background, the crucifixion of Jesus is in the foreground. It
was six days before the Passover.
They gave a dinner for him six days before the Passover. I
like to think it was an appreciation dinner. We know from a previous story in
John, that on another visit to Mary and Martha's house, the two sisters made a
great fuss over Jesus' visit. At least Mary made Martha make a fuss over the
meal. Martha, you remember, was busy in the kitchen. Mary sat in the living
room, at the feet of Jesus, conversing with their guest.
So after raising Lazarus from the dead, I bet they asked
Jesus, "How can we ever repay you for what you have done for our brother?"
Jesus said, "How about another one of those wonderful dinners?" Mary said, "No
problem. Martha would love to prepare dinner for you."
The night comes for the dinner. The text says, "Martha
served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him." "You're looking a
whole lot better now, Lazarus. You've got your color back."
In the middle of the meal Mary gets up, leaves the room,
comes back in, kneels at the feet of Jesus. In those
days they reclined at meals, in the style of the Greeks. Also when they came in
the house, they removed their sandals and the servants washed their feet. So
Jesus is lying down, his feet uncovered and bare. Mary
enters the room, moves over to Jesus, kneels, and pours this pound of perfume
on his feet.
Then she does something equally extravagant and absolutely
provocative. She lets down her hair. I tell you, that is
something that no respectable woman in that day would ever do in the presence
of any man except her husband. She let down her hair, and wiped Jesus' feet
with her hair. Are you shocked? You should be. Everyone there was shocked. What
does it mean?
Jesus tells us what it means. "What she has done was done
for my burial." It was six days before the Passover. We all know what was going
on, what was going to happen at the Passover. "What she has done, she has done
for my burial." It was the tradition in those days for women to prepare the
body for burial. Part of that preparation was the anointing of the body with
perfumes and ointments. So it is a prophetic act. It is in the tradition of the
prophets who made their points dramatically by enacting some scene, doing
something that would get the attention of people.
Mary got the attention of everybody. The anointing of
Jesus' feet did that. No one is likely to miss that point. "What she has done
was for my burial." That is the meaning of what she has done. But there is
more. He adds one more line. "The poor you have with you always, but you will
not always have me."
Now we must be careful here. That line, "the poor you have
with you always," has been misused and abused perhaps more than any other line
in scripture. It has been used to sanctify indifference toward the plight of
the poor. Nothing could be more contrary to the spirit of Jesus. Jesus can
never be accused of ignoring the poor. His instruction to us is to pay
attention to the poor. "Sell all you have and give it to the poor." "If you
have done it to the least of these, you have done it to me." Over and over
again the message of Jesus is, care for the poor.
What this means is, there are times when the need of
someone at hand is more urgent than the need someplace else. There are those
like Judas, so principled, so committed, so dedicated to loving the neighbor in
general, someplace else, overseas, or across town, that they cannot see that there
is a particular neighbor under their nose, or under their roof. All Judas could
see was all the good that could be done by selling that perfume. All Mary could
see was all the love that was needed right here, for this man. "The poor you
will have with you always, but you will not always have me."
Mary saw it all. From the time, a few
days earlier, when Jesus raised her brother from the dead. She saw that.
She was there. Then she heard the rumors that immediately started after he
raised Lazarus from the dead. The authorities, fearing that Jesus would use
this miracle as a catalyst to mount a revolution, made preparations to have him
arrested. In fact, as this party was going on in the house of Mary and Martha
at Bethany, probably at that very same time the
authorities, meeting in the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem,
were plotting how to have him arrested without incident before the Passover.
Mary knew all of this. Anyone with any sensitivity at all
was aware of it, and knew this may be the last time they would have him with
them. In a sense the meal at Bethany
is another "Last Supper." It is not the Last Supper for the disciples,
it was the Last Supper for the friends of Jesus.
So during the meal, I am sure Mary, overcome with emotion,
and deep gratitude and love for this dear man, just had to do something. It was
unbearable, the tension, knowing all that she knew.
Nobody was doing anything. Just idle table conversation. So she got up, got the
most expensive thing that she owned, and did the most extravagant deed she had
ever done. "Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."
There is an organization called "Make a Wish Foundation." I
know this congregation well enough to know that some of you are probably
involved in that organization, raise money for it. It is a wonderful
organization. I've got another name, an alternate name for that organization,
"The Anointing at Bethany Society," because that organization does one grand
and extravagant thing for a child or youth who doesn't have long to live. They
just pour out a gift extravagantly, the way Mary did, to say to this persons, "We want you to know that you are loved and
you are important."
Whenever I preach this story, the anointing at Bethany, I am reminded of an incident that occurred to me some
years ago in Nashville.
I have told this before, but long enough ago that I know a certain percent of
you have now forgotten it, and the rest of you weren't here. So I am going to
tell it again.
I had to go to Nashville
to attend a meeting. I got to the airport in Nashville late at night, about ten o'clock. I
got my bags and went out to the curb where you wait for the shuttle buses to
take you to the hotels. There were a few people standing there, lined up along
the curb, wrapped in overcoats, trying to keep warm.
Sitting on their luggage down at the far end was a woman
and her male companion. He was silent. She was not. She was talking to her
companion a mile a minute, and to anybody else that was within sound of her
voice, which could have been in the next county. She was talking about how cold
it was that night, and where is the cursed van anyway.
She turned to a man standing next to her. She said, "Where
you from?" He told her. She then began to tell him all about that city. She
turned to someone else down the line, "Where you from?" He told her. She told
him what she knew about that city. She was working her way down the line,
interrogating all of us who were standing there along the curb, while she sat
on her luggage, smoking one cigarette after another, intermittently complaining
about how cold it was, how she could hardly wait to get to the hotel so she
could go to the bar and have a drink.
"Where you from?" she asked the next person down the line.
He told her where he was from. I stepped back about then, started inching my
way down the curb, to get as far away from her as I could get.
A hotel shuttle drove up. Everyone on that curb got into
that shuttle, except the man and the woman, and me. I am certain not everyone
who got on that van was going to that hotel. It was like those old westerns
when Main Street
clears, and there is just the sheriff at one end of the street and the outlaw
down at the other end.
Out of the side of my eye I could see her drag on her
cigarette, stare down the curbside at me. She was sizing me up. She took
another puff, and blew out the smoke slowly. "What hotel you
going to?" I told her. "Hey, we're going there, too." I didn't say
anything.
She said, "I bet you're a lawyer."
I said, "No, I just like to dress this way."
"Well, what do you do?"
I said, "I'm a preacher."
"Jesus Christ!"
I said, "No ma'am, I just work for him."
The shuttle arrived. We got in. It was just the three of us
on the shuttle. She said, "Preacher, I want you to meet my friend." She
introduced me to her companion. I said, "Hello." Shook his
hand. "Nice to meet you."
He didn't say anything. She said, "He don't say nothing. Cancer got his voice box. I love this man. He's my
friend. I love this man more than anything else in the world." She asked him,
"Don't I love you?" She asked him again, "Don't I?"
She said, "The doctor said he doesn't have long to live.
You're a preacher. I want you to pray for him. Maybe it will do some good.
Meanwhile we've come down here to Nashville
to go to the Grand Ole Opry. I've got tickets for
tomorrow night. He has always wanted to go to the Opry.
Then the day after that I have rented a car. We're
going to drive over to Memphis.
We're going to Graceland. Then we're going
home. Oh, we're going to have a great time, aren't we? We're going to have a
wonderful time. You be sure and pray for him."
Six days before the Passover Jesus
came to Bethany,
the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner
for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet,
and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the
perfume.