John 12:1-8
Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.
“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
As we’ve been doing all along, today’s Sunday message is linked with the one found in our daily reading booklet and, once again, the meditation for today was written by Quinn Caldwell and taken from that booklet, Into the Deep, from the God is Still Speaking Writers Group.
I’ve expanded the brief quote that Caldwell took from John’s Gospel so that we might have the full story for our discussion. It’s a story we’re all familiar with but, like many stories taken from scripture, we sometimes finding ourselves just accepting it as “a bible story” without thinking about what it really means.
Living in a dry, semi-desert land, where the primary means of transportation for ordinary people was your own two feet, anyone arriving at the home of a friend who lived in a neighboring village was likely to arrive hot and dusty, with dirty feet and, by today’s standards, somewhat smelly. The rules of hospitality demanded that they be greeted with water to drink and water to wash—and refresh--their dirty feet. Further than this—if one could afford it—one also offered oil for the dry and cracked skin of their feet.
But this time, Mary’s offering of oil went much, much further than usual – into a another meaning entirely. A day or so later Jesus would wash the feet of his disciples, as an offering of humility, of servanthood, of love – but as Caldwell points out, Mary did it first. Perhaps Jesus learned the value of this particular kind of giving of self after first receiving it from Mary.
And the time is growing very short. Jesus is here at Mary and Martha’s home because he is on his way to Jerusalem—for the last time. This visit is only a momentary respite. When he leaves their home in the next few days and enters Jerusalem it will be to be greeted by crowds, hailing him as “King of the Jews.”
We are growing very close to the crisis point. Mary sees this and recognizes that there will not be many – if any—more chances to show her love for Jesus – the Lord she has followed so faithfully and with such loving devotion. So, as Caldwell puts it, she overdoes it, she falls to her knees and gives him everything she has to give.
She takes a full jar of nard – an expensive perfume gathered from a plant found clear off in the Himalayas, and she anoints him with it because again, as Caldwell puts it, there’s no time for subtleties as hatred and violence are headed their way; no reason to be stingy with love in a world so generous with pain – she uses her own hair to wipe his feet. When it might be your last touch you don’t want anything between you.
In those days, anointing--deliberately pouring out oil upon someone--signified God's blessing, and was used to set that someone apart for a specific holy purpose or to consecrate them for a particular role, like a king, priest, or prophet. Or in this case, a sacrifice.
Mary knows this journey isn’t going to end well. As Caldwell puts it:
“This is her last chance to do this while Jesus is still alive. It has to count, this anointing. It has to last. He needs to still be able to feel this when they’re lashing him a few days from now. When he looks down from the cross at jeering faces, he needs to be able to remember hers looking up at him with love. He needs to still be able to smell this act when he’s on the cross.”
When we take the time to fully recognize the agony of Mary’s goodbye, we can understand, so much better, the absolute joy of that meeting in the garden a few days later when Mary was shown that nothing, and no one, can separate us from Jesus – ever.
But that is another story for another week. Today we have only one woman’s need to reach out while she still can to make sure that the one she loves knows that they are loved – and needed -- and supported. Love—in one form or another--is all we have to give – so give it while it still can be given – wherever it is needed.
I’ve expanded the brief quote that Caldwell took from John’s Gospel so that we might have the full story for our discussion. It’s a story we’re all familiar with but, like many stories taken from scripture, we sometimes finding ourselves just accepting it as “a bible story” without thinking about what it really means.
Living in a dry, semi-desert land, where the primary means of transportation for ordinary people was your own two feet, anyone arriving at the home of a friend who lived in a neighboring village was likely to arrive hot and dusty, with dirty feet and, by today’s standards, somewhat smelly. The rules of hospitality demanded that they be greeted with water to drink and water to wash—and refresh--their dirty feet. Further than this—if one could afford it—one also offered oil for the dry and cracked skin of their feet.
But this time, Mary’s offering of oil went much, much further than usual – into a another meaning entirely. A day or so later Jesus would wash the feet of his disciples, as an offering of humility, of servanthood, of love – but as Caldwell points out, Mary did it first. Perhaps Jesus learned the value of this particular kind of giving of self after first receiving it from Mary.
And the time is growing very short. Jesus is here at Mary and Martha’s home because he is on his way to Jerusalem—for the last time. This visit is only a momentary respite. When he leaves their home in the next few days and enters Jerusalem it will be to be greeted by crowds, hailing him as “King of the Jews.”
We are growing very close to the crisis point. Mary sees this and recognizes that there will not be many – if any—more chances to show her love for Jesus – the Lord she has followed so faithfully and with such loving devotion. So, as Caldwell puts it, she overdoes it, she falls to her knees and gives him everything she has to give.
She takes a full jar of nard – an expensive perfume gathered from a plant found clear off in the Himalayas, and she anoints him with it because again, as Caldwell puts it, there’s no time for subtleties as hatred and violence are headed their way; no reason to be stingy with love in a world so generous with pain – she uses her own hair to wipe his feet. When it might be your last touch you don’t want anything between you.
In those days, anointing--deliberately pouring out oil upon someone--signified God's blessing, and was used to set that someone apart for a specific holy purpose or to consecrate them for a particular role, like a king, priest, or prophet. Or in this case, a sacrifice.
Mary knows this journey isn’t going to end well. As Caldwell puts it:
“This is her last chance to do this while Jesus is still alive. It has to count, this anointing. It has to last. He needs to still be able to feel this when they’re lashing him a few days from now. When he looks down from the cross at jeering faces, he needs to be able to remember hers looking up at him with love. He needs to still be able to smell this act when he’s on the cross.”
When we take the time to fully recognize the agony of Mary’s goodbye, we can understand, so much better, the absolute joy of that meeting in the garden a few days later when Mary was shown that nothing, and no one, can separate us from Jesus – ever.
But that is another story for another week. Today we have only one woman’s need to reach out while she still can to make sure that the one she loves knows that they are loved – and needed -- and supported. Love—in one form or another--is all we have to give – so give it while it still can be given – wherever it is needed.
RSS Feed