John 12:1-8 (The Message)
Six days before Passover, Jesus entered Bethany where Lazarus, so recently raised from the dead, was living. Lazarus and his sisters invited Jesus to dinner at their home. Martha served. Lazarus was one of those sitting at the table with them. Mary came in with a jar of very expensive aromatic oils, anointed and massaged Jesus’ feet, and then wiped them with her hair. The fragrance of the oils filled the house.
Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples, even then getting ready to betray him, said, “Why wasn’t this oil sold and the money given to the poor? It would have easily brought three hundred silver pieces.” He said this not because he cared two cents about the poor but because he was a thief. He was in charge of their common funds, but also embezzled them.
Jesus said, “Let her alone. She’s anticipating and honoring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You don’t always have me.”
Last week, as you’ll recall, we read and discussed the story of the Prodigal Son, which I’ve always believed should be called the Prodigal Father. We tend to define prodigal by only one of its several meanings – I suspect because it’s not a commonly used word and the only time we hear it is in relation to this bible story. That definition defines prodigal as wasteful and reckless which definitely fits the standard understanding of the wayward son.
There is, however, another definition which defines prodigal as lavishly abundant, extravagant, or profuse. This definition certainly applies to the father in the story – the father who loved without limits.
So, why am I talking about last week’s reading when we just read this week’s story? Last week our reading was from Luke’s gospel as was to be expected in Cycle C of the lectionary readings – it’s Luke’s year -- but this week's story comes from John’s gospel. Because John doesn’t have a year of his own in the three year lectionary cycle we end up getting John’s stories scattered around through the other three years – mostly on the occasion of high holy days like Easter. A lot of the Easter season readings will come from John, and we’re getting very close now to Easter.
Okay, that was a side note...back to the question: why am I talking about last week’s reading when we just read this week’s story? It’s because I want you to note the common theme of extravagant love. Last week we had the father who just went completely over the top with his welcome for the son he thought he’d lost – fancy clothes and jewelry, a feast of rich foods, bring in the neighbors, find some musicians – the son I thought I’d lost has been found! His extravagant joy was totally without limits – driven by his extravagant, prodigal love.
This week’s story takes place shortly after Jesus had called his dear friend Lazarus out of the tomb, back from the dead, in a preview, if they only recognized it, of what lies ahead for himself.
They probably didn't recognize it at the time, but the raising of Lazarus from the dead would be the straw that finally broke the camel’s back for the religious authorities. As long as Jesus stayed out in the hinterlands the Temple could ignore him and hope the Romans were doing the same. But raising someone from the dead was the kind of story that got talked about a lot -- told and re-told, it was a tale that traveled fast and far. And people were using words like "king" and "savior" now and the Romans would not tolerate that.
It scared the temple authorities beyond any question of continuing to ignore Jesus. If the Romans heard what people were saying about Jesus they would come down hard against him and everyone -- even the Temple authorities -- would get caught up in their reprisal. Jesus had to be stopped...and soon.
Still, here on this quiet day in Bethany, Jerusalem’s power battles seem far away and our reading provides what is still a pretty low key story. The first excitement of the raising of Lazarus has passed but the happiness of the two sisters, Martha and Mary, can’t be repressed and they throw an impromptu party.
The text says they invited Jesus to dinner, but because we see Judas turn up as a wet blanket later in the story we can assume the other disciples were there, as well.
Bethany lies just outside Jerusalem. Jesus’ presence here means he is no longer avoiding the authorities and has turned his path away from the outlying regions and toward Jerusalem. His time has come and he is ready to face the powers that be. For those who understand what is happening (and it’s clear that a great many do not) this is a frightening time.
So on this day in Bethany there is both joy and fear. Mary, in her own way, acknowledges both. She brings out a jar of expensive perfume which I suspect she’d been hoarding to make it last, and instead of using it sparingly, in an act of extravagant love, and probably some fear for what may lie ahead, she pours the whole thing out to clean and massage Jesus’ feet and then dries them with her own unbound hair. Extravagant, prodigal love.
In the story of the prodigal father it’s the elder son who tries to rain on everyone’s parade and refuses to be any part of the love-fest. In today’s story that role is played by Judas who gets all (fake) grumpy because the oil was “wasted” instead sold for cash. As treasurer for the group, cash would mean money in his pocket even though he tries hard to pretend his concern is for the poor.
Being a small, jealous man, he’s also not about to let Jesus and Mary have this moment between them. Since he himself can’t seem capable of loving anyone else he needs to take this act of giving away from Mary who gave and from Jesus who received.
But Jesus is having none of that. “Leave her alone,” he says, “she’s the only one here who recognizes what is coming and she is preparing me for it.” While an oil like this could be used for cleaning and scenting, and also as necessary moisturizer in a dry land, its other traditional use, and the one Jesus was undoubtedly referring to, would be in preparing a body for burial. Mary may be the only person who loved Jesus enough to acknowledge the fearful possibility hanging over him. Her love could encompass even that terror. Her trust and her love were absolute.
God tries so very hard in our lives to teach us that extravagant, lavish, open-handed, prodigal love is what our existence is about. I have known, and I suspect that you have too, sad, broken people who appeared to be incapable of giving or receiving love. People who were so afraid of having love taken from them that they were terrified to receive love. People who are so convinced that they themselves are unlovable that they build walls so dense that love can’t get in or out.
Maybe we've even been that person.
A dear friend of ours many long years ago had, after being single for years, finally found a woman to love and who loved him in return. One day he bought her an expensive bottle of perfume. It was a gift meant to show how much he loved her. Unfortunately, she refused to accept it and insisted he return it because it cost too much and she wasn’t worth it. I think it broke his heart that she would not allow him to show his love to her. She didn’t feel worthy and could not/would not not allow him the joy of giving his gift.
We can be so broken when we refuse to see ourselves as worthy recipients of love.
This whole thing of God and churches and scripture and prayer is often our attempt to control love because we are scared to death of it. We prefer to put it in a box where we can contain it – a box of rules – and think we are in charge – and safe.
And all the while the world around us is shouting out that God loves us wildly, lavishly, extravagantly, prodigally! If only we could get over our fear of being unworthy, maybe one day we will actually be able to believe in that great love.
May it be so.
There is, however, another definition which defines prodigal as lavishly abundant, extravagant, or profuse. This definition certainly applies to the father in the story – the father who loved without limits.
So, why am I talking about last week’s reading when we just read this week’s story? Last week our reading was from Luke’s gospel as was to be expected in Cycle C of the lectionary readings – it’s Luke’s year -- but this week's story comes from John’s gospel. Because John doesn’t have a year of his own in the three year lectionary cycle we end up getting John’s stories scattered around through the other three years – mostly on the occasion of high holy days like Easter. A lot of the Easter season readings will come from John, and we’re getting very close now to Easter.
Okay, that was a side note...back to the question: why am I talking about last week’s reading when we just read this week’s story? It’s because I want you to note the common theme of extravagant love. Last week we had the father who just went completely over the top with his welcome for the son he thought he’d lost – fancy clothes and jewelry, a feast of rich foods, bring in the neighbors, find some musicians – the son I thought I’d lost has been found! His extravagant joy was totally without limits – driven by his extravagant, prodigal love.
This week’s story takes place shortly after Jesus had called his dear friend Lazarus out of the tomb, back from the dead, in a preview, if they only recognized it, of what lies ahead for himself.
They probably didn't recognize it at the time, but the raising of Lazarus from the dead would be the straw that finally broke the camel’s back for the religious authorities. As long as Jesus stayed out in the hinterlands the Temple could ignore him and hope the Romans were doing the same. But raising someone from the dead was the kind of story that got talked about a lot -- told and re-told, it was a tale that traveled fast and far. And people were using words like "king" and "savior" now and the Romans would not tolerate that.
It scared the temple authorities beyond any question of continuing to ignore Jesus. If the Romans heard what people were saying about Jesus they would come down hard against him and everyone -- even the Temple authorities -- would get caught up in their reprisal. Jesus had to be stopped...and soon.
Still, here on this quiet day in Bethany, Jerusalem’s power battles seem far away and our reading provides what is still a pretty low key story. The first excitement of the raising of Lazarus has passed but the happiness of the two sisters, Martha and Mary, can’t be repressed and they throw an impromptu party.
The text says they invited Jesus to dinner, but because we see Judas turn up as a wet blanket later in the story we can assume the other disciples were there, as well.
Bethany lies just outside Jerusalem. Jesus’ presence here means he is no longer avoiding the authorities and has turned his path away from the outlying regions and toward Jerusalem. His time has come and he is ready to face the powers that be. For those who understand what is happening (and it’s clear that a great many do not) this is a frightening time.
So on this day in Bethany there is both joy and fear. Mary, in her own way, acknowledges both. She brings out a jar of expensive perfume which I suspect she’d been hoarding to make it last, and instead of using it sparingly, in an act of extravagant love, and probably some fear for what may lie ahead, she pours the whole thing out to clean and massage Jesus’ feet and then dries them with her own unbound hair. Extravagant, prodigal love.
In the story of the prodigal father it’s the elder son who tries to rain on everyone’s parade and refuses to be any part of the love-fest. In today’s story that role is played by Judas who gets all (fake) grumpy because the oil was “wasted” instead sold for cash. As treasurer for the group, cash would mean money in his pocket even though he tries hard to pretend his concern is for the poor.
Being a small, jealous man, he’s also not about to let Jesus and Mary have this moment between them. Since he himself can’t seem capable of loving anyone else he needs to take this act of giving away from Mary who gave and from Jesus who received.
But Jesus is having none of that. “Leave her alone,” he says, “she’s the only one here who recognizes what is coming and she is preparing me for it.” While an oil like this could be used for cleaning and scenting, and also as necessary moisturizer in a dry land, its other traditional use, and the one Jesus was undoubtedly referring to, would be in preparing a body for burial. Mary may be the only person who loved Jesus enough to acknowledge the fearful possibility hanging over him. Her love could encompass even that terror. Her trust and her love were absolute.
God tries so very hard in our lives to teach us that extravagant, lavish, open-handed, prodigal love is what our existence is about. I have known, and I suspect that you have too, sad, broken people who appeared to be incapable of giving or receiving love. People who were so afraid of having love taken from them that they were terrified to receive love. People who are so convinced that they themselves are unlovable that they build walls so dense that love can’t get in or out.
Maybe we've even been that person.
A dear friend of ours many long years ago had, after being single for years, finally found a woman to love and who loved him in return. One day he bought her an expensive bottle of perfume. It was a gift meant to show how much he loved her. Unfortunately, she refused to accept it and insisted he return it because it cost too much and she wasn’t worth it. I think it broke his heart that she would not allow him to show his love to her. She didn’t feel worthy and could not/would not not allow him the joy of giving his gift.
We can be so broken when we refuse to see ourselves as worthy recipients of love.
This whole thing of God and churches and scripture and prayer is often our attempt to control love because we are scared to death of it. We prefer to put it in a box where we can contain it – a box of rules – and think we are in charge – and safe.
And all the while the world around us is shouting out that God loves us wildly, lavishly, extravagantly, prodigally! If only we could get over our fear of being unworthy, maybe one day we will actually be able to believe in that great love.
May it be so.
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