John 12:1-8
Mary Anoints Jesus
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. 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?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
In the Name of God the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer. Amen
This is a story that is recounted in all four gospels.
And I’ve always been annoyed that, in every version, the men in the story, steal the show.
It becomes all about them - rather than about the beautiful gift that a woman gave.
In John’s gospel, we see them suggesting how the cost of this gift might have been better employed in the service of the poor.
And in the other gospels, the men around Jesus question how Jesus can calmly accept the unconventional hospitality this woman shows instead of censuring her.
It becomes about the men - rather than about a woman who spontaneously offered radical love.
When we consider when this encounter happens in Jesus’s timeline:
It happens in a real threshold moment.
A turning point for Jesus.
Just at the time when his ministry is about to change direction.
The authorities - civil and religious were already looking for a way to shut him down.
And then he raises Lazarus from the dead.
Now there is no way he’ll be allowed to continue his disruptive influence.
This anointing happens in that liminal space.
When he’s about the leave the shores of lake Galilee to head to Jerusalem.
Where the cross awaits.
It’s why we read it today, this 5th Sunday in Lent.
Passion Sunday.
The tide is turning for Jesus.
Those who want him gone are closing in.
And he knows it.
He’s been telling his friends, warning them.
But most of them want to bury their heads in the sand, stick their fingers in their ears and pretend that it’s business as usual.
Mary of Bethany has listened.
She’s picked up on all the cues.
She knows that the gift of life for Lazarus, her brother, is the final nail for Jesus.
She knows - this man, whom she loves - his days are numbered.
So she does the most radical thing she can imagine.
She breaks open her expensive ointment and anoints her beloved.
It must have been excruciating and beautiful to watch.
And THAT’S why the men in the room have to divert attention.
They couldn’t bear to watch this overtly public display of affection.
And they they couldn’t square up to the truth that was staring them in the face.
They wanted to believe that life was always going to be one big beach party with Jesus.
Instead of a one way ticket to death on a cross - for him.
Mary’s radical act confronts these men with something they’d rather avoid, so they look away and make it about something entirely different.
Prophets always make us uncomfortable.
And when we find our discomfort growing, we might ask ourselves why?
What is being stirred up in us?
And, more importantly, how are we being nudged into action?
For our call is to be prophets today.
To respond to the injustice we witness.
To call attention to what really matters in our world - and to keep on recalling others.
Not to be distracted, but to keep on working for justice and protesting against all that gets in the way.
No matter how uncomfortable it makes those around us feel.
We are called, with Mary of Bethany to indulge in spontaneous acts of radical love and hospitality, to be extravagant in whatever way we can to address and confront injustice in all the places we inhabit as prophets today.
May we do all that we are called to with the love, the singularity, the purpose and the conviction of Mary of Bethany.
One radical act of love at a time.
It’s not about the poor
It’s not about the dinner guests
It’s not about the keeper of the purse
It’s about a woman’s extravagant gift
The costly ointment
The fragrance
The unadulterated love exposed for all to see
And the discomfort of
witnessing such beauty and truth
becomes too much to bear
And so the focus is diverted
from a woman’s gift
to the men’s distraction techniques
lest we, too, should be moved
to such radical acts of love
that are searing to witness
causing those not comfortable in their own skin
to look away
to find distraction
in things that, in this moment,
do not matter.
Our discomfort might be transformed
by looking deeply
at the longings
and the fears
the envy
and the loss
that are stirred up in us
who bear witness
to a pure
and spontaneous love.
Until we too
counter injustice in the world
with acts of radical love.
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