Jesus Anointed at Bethany
Notes
Transcript
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.”
The health of a society is reflected in how it takes care of its poorest members.” I’ve been trying to figure out the origins of this statement.
“A civilization is measured by how it treats its weakest members” or “The greatness of a nation can be judged by how it treats its weakest member” is often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi.
In an address to the Democratic National Convention in New York City on July 13, 1976, Herbert Humphrey spoke about the treatment of the weakest members of society as a reflection of its government: “The ultimate moral test of any government is the way it treats three groups of its citizens. First, those in the dawn of life — our children. Second, those in the shadows of life — our needy, our sick, our handicapped. Third, those in the twilight of life — our elderly.”
How we care for and acknowledge the poor among us tells a lot about who we are as a people.
As we’ve gone through the Season of Lent, looking ever-forward to Easter Sunday, we’ve been asking this question of our Scripture readings: “How is this good news for the poor?” If we are to find liberation in this lenten season, we have to seek the freedom of the poorest among us, the liberation of all, not just some of us.
How is this good news for the poor? How is Jesus inviting us to make common cause with the ones who need the most?
Our text today, though, is confusing in this regard, boarding perhaps even upon cynical. What’s going on here? Is Jesus throwing in the towel and simply accepting the poor’s existence? Does his action in this scene make him some kind of narcissist or princely figure, who expects tribute from the lesser members of society?
And what of Judas’ reply? Is his criticism of Mary justified? Couldn’t we do something better with our money than this show of affection and praise?
How are we to hear Jesus’ words? The poor will always be with you, but I will not always be with you.
It’s also safe to acknowledge that many modern Christians have lived, from a theological standpoint, of the opposite of what I appears Jesus is teaching. Our theology, our understanding of God, tells us that through Christ’s death and resurrection, now he lives in us. We are the body of Christ. Maybe you remember the Teresa of Avila prayer I’ve shared before. We believe, as Teresa famously articulated, that Christ has no body now on earth but yours. No hands, not feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks favor upon this world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes.
As we follow this line of thought, we affirm that Christ is with us. That’s pretty basic Christian orthodoxy.
But Jesus makes it sound like his time is brief, which, in turn we know that it is.
But here’s where I get all turned upside down in this text. Christ, knowing that he would soon depart from his followers, teaches them to celebrate while he is with them. To honor him as Lord and Messiah. Christians have taken this to mean that Mary’s lavish response to Jesus is warranted because her time was running out with him, too.
And here’s the kicker, though. Have we taken this thinking too far, in order to ignore the poor? What I mean is, do we lean on the truth that Christ is still with us, in our bodies and gathered community, and in doing so, do we neglect the poor?
So heavenly minded that we’re no earthly good?
Are we confused yet? What is Jesus teaching us?
I’ve come to see this text in new ways. First, and probably most significantly for my own understanding of my faith, is this powerful reality: There will ALWAYS be poor among us. Always.
Now, this isn’t a popular statement. We want to believe we can somehow alleviate or end poverty. I’m 42 years old. Through my life, in so many different formats or proposed ways, I’ve heard about how if only the developed world could contribute this much or if only so many billionaires would just pool a meager part of their wealth together, then we could end world hunger and poverty. If only we could access X% of our GDP and turn it towards the needs of the hurting and poor, then we could solve it all.
I now hear this text in a new light, but before I share what that is, I want to say something that may sound very cynical, but is also straight from our Sacred text and the words of Jesus.
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.”
And again, Jesus.
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.”
There will always be poor among us.
Bad news, right?
Perhaps. Especially if we’ve been captivated by that promise of somehow, possibly, all the suffering and pain can be ended.
Bad news, especially for the poor, right?
Of course, we could even simply look back on this past week and the way wealth has been thrown about, drained, and reconsolidated. The S&P market index lost something like $5 trillion dollars (at least) this week.
We could solve poverty with that kind of money. Let’s accept that reality. And let’s also swallow this bitter pill of truth — we aren’t going to.
I don’t mean to be a doomsday preacher — this is simply the reality we observe, where the powers and principalities of our world are so greatly disconnected with the everyday realities of so many who hunger and struggle. If we are going to be the light of Jesus, the body of Jesus, in this world, then we have to be willing to tell the truth about such things.
And telling the truth about this reality leads me to my second realization with this story. Judas and probably some of the other disciples are flabbergasted. This is expensive perfume and could have turned a healthy profit. Our first lesson tells us even the money from the sale wouldn’t likely make a dent in the systemic poverty facing the people of Jesus’ world. And the second lesson shows us that our response to Jesus among us must be an abundant, extravagent, gift of beauty and generosity.
Let’s check in with Mary for a moment. We hear about Mary, Martha, and Lazarus throughout the Gospel stories. In this particular narrative, Mary is, in my estimation, not a harlot or outsider, as we perhaps might frame Mary Magdelene. No, this seems to be Mary of the house of Bethany and…if it is, she’s not poor. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus are thought to be well off, at least somehow benefactors and supporters of Jesus.
Remember, it’s Lazarus who’s death Jesus misses while he’s teaching elsewhere, even though Lazarus was a dear friend. Personal connection or even wealth doesn’t deter Jesus from his primary focus of teaching the good news. Access, friendship, community, Jesus still is focused on his mission of serving the poor.
So let’s keep with Mary being not necessarily poor.
What we learn here is that someone who has enough, still, in response to Jesus’ abundant love and grace, uses all that she has in wealth to honor him.
So what does this mean? Accept that there are poor people and, once we accept this reality, still give your riches to Jesus, to the church? Is that the lesson.
Some would argue that the church must be the social institution to care for the poor and the widow, the orphan and the imprisoned. So yes, in some sense, if that is our charge, we should focus our efforts on raising funds and directed them to the cause of the poor.
I will say, and it bears reminding, that we do give about 10% of our pledged giving back to missions organizations in our community and beyond. We make it a priority to care for the poor in our church, as well.
Judas wants to draw our attention this way.
And I do, too, in some sense. I’ll ask us all — with all that you have been given, in wealth or position, how will you leverage those blessings to pass on and bless the poor? Jesus tells the rich young ruler, elsewhere in his ministry, that the way to get into God’s kingdom is to sell everything you have and give it to the poor. Yes! This is the way.
So the second learning in this text is to echo these teachings — give what we have away to serve the ones who need it most.
How are you being instructed to live with abundance? With what you have been entrusted, what will you do? How will we serve the poor, come close to the hurting? How can we use the abundances we have to make the struggle a little easier? How we will celebrate the goodness of God in protest against this death-ethic of enduring poverty?
Really, the questions before us are what kind of people will be we be? And how will we live?
Finally, and I think this might sting us the most, there is a teaching from Jesus here about how we relate with wealth and poverty.
Judas wants to argue about better uses of the funds.
And he’s missing the point.
Mary, however, gets it. I wonder if Mary has a little bit of that healthy cynicism I spoke of moments ago. Maybe she gets the reality that she’s not going to change to systems.
So what does she do? She opens up the best perfume she has and spreads it lavishly. She anoints, blesses, Jesus. She prepares him for his burial, preparing him like an honored friend, or king, or Messiah.
Mary realizes, and I hope we will too, that wealth is meant to be used for blessing and in abundance. Yeah, that’s be best perfume. How about last week, remember that blessing and abundance? The fatted calf is killed for the returning prodigal son.
I don’t know what this hits on for you, but I’ll speak about it for me.
This act makes me realize that I also have gifts to offer, and it calls me to do just that.
What if Mary isn’t the poor one we need to see here, but actually, it’s Jesus.
Jesus, who has nothing, is welcomed into the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Jesus, who has nothing, is given a meal with his friends at their expense. Jesus, who has nothing, is blessed with this radical anointing. The one who has nothing is given praise and position.
This Lent, my dear friend Randy Pries has led some of us through a Bible Study on the book of Philippians. He’s been focusing on the joy we come to know as we follow the way of Jesus. And importantly, Philippians teaches, in chapter 2, that the way into following Jesus is to follow his example of emptying ourselves. Jesus let go of all power, all privilege, all wealth and access and dominion — he emptied himself, to become like us, to be like the least of us, the poor, the outcast, the outsider.
Jesus shows us the way — it is not through trying to solve every unsolvable problem. It is not through cynicism or believing in the powers that be.
Jesus shows us the way, which is the way of relinquishment, of pouring out, of giving ourselves up for the poor and the needy.
So, how will we be set free today? How will we release what we have so abundantly be blessed with?
Many of us have resources — will we use them, together, to serve the poor?
Gratefully, today, we have this practice of gathering at the table, which reminds us that among us, there are no rich or poor, male or female, wise or foolish, old or young. No, there are simply beloved children of God, all welcomed at the abundant table. At this table, there is always enough, always room, always offering of lavish grace.
Come, prepare, and offer yourself today, in common cause with Christ, who comes near to love and serve the world.
