Lent 5C: Phil. 3:4b-14; John
12:1-8; St. Paul's, Smithfield 4/7/2019
Jim Melnyk: “Breaking Open Our Hearts”
Mary of Bethany got it. She figured it all out. And the
men stood by dumb-founded and unable to comprehend. "Leave her alone,”
says Jesus when the men around the table confront Mary, deeming her anointing
of Jesus with costly perfume an unnecessary extravagance. “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."
Throughout all four gospels it seems the women are the
ones who really understand Jesus – who he is and where he’s headed. They are
the ones who understand that the messiahship Jesus proclaims will involve both blood
and death before it ever reaches glory. In John’s gospel, Mary is the one who
“cracks the Gospel’s messianic secret and, without words, proclaims to all who
are present that Jesus is the Anointed one of God.”[1]
In
this moment Mary does for Jesus what he will do for his disciples on the night
he is betrayed, and it causes confusion and consternation for everyone but
Jesus. It is an extravagant act of love and discipleship on Mary’s part –
caring for her Lord, and Teacher, and Friend. And perhaps it is Mary’s action
this night in Bethany that prompts Jesus to later wash the feet of his
disciples as a sign of servanthood and love. Wouldn’t that be cool – if Jesus
got his Last Supper foot washing brainstorm from disciple Mary?
Beth
Sanders writes, “In this
moment between the stench of Lazarus's four days in the tomb and the spicy
scent of myrrh and aloes with which Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus will
embalm Jesus' body, the sweet aroma of God's love is wafting in the air. It
sticks in Mary's hair as she brushes it against Jesus' feet and fills the house
wherever she goes. [And two thousand years later we still
wrestle with the scandal of a God who would take on human flesh, kneel before
us washing our feet, and die on a cross for the life of the world.] Has anyone caught a whiff of God's love on
us 21st-century Christians lately?”[2]
All four gospels tell us about a woman coming to Jesus to
anoint him prior to his crucifixion. Each Evangelist tells the story in his own
way. In both Mark’s and Matthew’s gospels an unknown woman opens an alabaster
jar of costly nard and pours it upon Jesus’ head. In Luke’s gospel an unknown
woman both kisses and anoints Jesus’ feet. Luke identifies her as a sinner –
though no particular sin is mentioned. Only John identifies the woman doing the
anointing as Mary of Bethany.
The
details of the story are not as important as the meaning behind their actions.
The women in all four stories perform an extravagant act of beauty and love
toward Jesus, with much of what is taking place left to the imagination. What
would cause the unnamed women, or even a good friend like Mary of Bethany, to
jump into this scene with the boldness of a prophet – exercising a prophetic
imagination that only Jesus seems to understand in that moment?
Her
actions – her anointing of Jesus – carries with it a multitude of meaning. We’ve
already mentioned the anointing of a body which took place before burial in the
first century. We’ve also mentioned anointing as a messianic symbol. It is also
a way of identifying and setting apart someone as a prophet, a priest, or a
king – and the evangelists want all of these images to come to mind for the
listener.
By
placing the story between the death, burial, and resurrection of Lazarus and
the betrayal and death of Jesus, there is little doubt that John wants us to
understand this act as preparation for the crucifixion of Jesus as well as the
promise of his resurrection. The way, the truth, and the life of Jesus is the
way of the cross and death – a way which leads us toward new life. When we
choose to embrace Jesus of Nazareth as the way of life, we choose the hard
reality of the cross as well. As Jesus reminds us seemingly moments after this
encounter with Mary, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it
remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”[3]
The
men in the room don’t get it. They only see waste on Mary’s part. Think of how
many people could be fed with nearly a year’s worth of wages. Yet Mary’s lavish
act becomes a poetic statement of the extravagance of Jesus’ love for the
world. Mary, and the unnamed women in the other gospel accounts of this act,
“convey truth where words would falter.”[4]
Mary’s act of deep abiding love foreshadows Jesus’ act of deep abiding love on
the cross. As Presbyterian Pastor Jonathan Ryan puts it, “…the strange beauty
displayed in the cross breaks open our containers of reciprocity, fairness, and
symmetry. [In] the life and death of Jesus Christ, God pours God’s self out ....”[5]
As
we move toward the close of Lent with the harsh reality of Holy Week and the
cross looming on the horizon, Mary reminds us of our need to be extravagant in
our love toward God and our love toward others. Dare we risk entering into
unwelcoming places of our world and pronouncing with boldness our love for God?
Dare we risk breaking open the alabaster jars of whatever we hold dear to
anoint the head and feet of Jesus by anointing those around us most in need of
God’s love in their lives?
Because
that’s what this is all about… not only breaking out our containers of
“reciprocity, fairness, and symmetry” as Jonathan Ryan puts it, but also
breaking open our containers of mercy, justice, and love for all of God’s
people. Because Jesus doesn’t tell the men in the room “you will always have
the poor with you” as an excuse to give up out of frustration, or to see it as
the way the world is meant to be.
Mary,
and the unnamed women in the other three gospels, point us to the extravagant
love of God made known to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.
They remind us that our love toward one another should be just as extravagant –
just as loving – just as selfless – as the love shown to us in Jesus – because there
will always be people in need of our loving response.
These
women, known and unknown, remind us that in Christ God is constantly reconciling
us, and the entire world, to one another and to God. In Christ God is repairing
the world. As Paul reminds us in his letter to the Church in Corinth, God has
given to each of us the ministry of reconciliation. And as Paul reminds us in
today’s passage from Philippians – anything beyond our love for God and our
love for neighbor is just so much rubbish – in fact, the Greek he used actually
says it’s like cow manure. God has given to each of us a ministry of healing
this broken world. Once we allow ourselves to break open the alabaster jars of
our hearts and pour out our love toward God, then we can finally find the will
and the strength to pour out our love toward others, and help mend this world
as well.
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