John 12:1-8
In the final week of his life and earthly ministry, Jesus returned to a familiar place and a beloved family. The three siblings, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus feature prominently throughout the Gospels. Mary, the dedicated pupil and bold worshipper of Jesus, known for sitting at his feet and anointing his body with fragrant oils. Martha, the hostess extraordinaire who prioritized the feeding and hospitality of the family table and who confronted Jesus in her grief, confessing his power over all things including death itself. Lazarus, the man who fell ill and died and was raised from the dead after four days in the tomb, the man whose resurrection and the faith it inspired would lead to Jesus’s execution. All three of these siblings seemingly share a household and regularly host Jesus and his disciples, offering them shelter and food and relief from the press of the crowds. Something about their dynamic, the welcoming way they set their table, and the faithfulness of their friendship drew Jesus back to this little family multiple times. That fact alone should be our cue to pay close attention to their words and their actions, that we might know the same relationship with Christ.
The Gospel of John takes great care to ensure that we can see this scene at Martha’s table in our mind’s eye. We know who is seated around the table, who serves the food, and even the exact measurement of Mary’s offering. The oil is valuable, and heavily perfumed, so much so that the entire house is impacted by the scent. The moment is tender and intimate, Mary using her own hair to spread the oil over Jesus’s skin. In John’s account, Mary anoints Jesus’s feet, as he will wash the feet of his disciples after sharing a final meal with them, both kneeling in a position of humility and service. The oil she uses is intended for the rite of anointing the body of a deceased loved one before burial, possibly even her own. It is likely that Mary and Martha anointed to body of Lazarus in this oil as they wept over him, treating their brother with tender care for what they believed to be the final time. In the presence of Lazarus who had been anointed and buried and is now alive, unbound, Mary offers the same farewell ritual to Jesus. The beauty of the moment is interrupted by envy and contempt, as Judas questions the extravagant waste of such a valuable resource. We who overhear are meant to understand that Judas says this selfishly, wishing to embezzle the funds that could be gained from such a prize. But his is a familiar sentiment, as followers of Jesus across the centuries have questioned each other for everything from costly silver pieces on the altar to large building projects to compensation of staff to how we invest in the ministry of the wider church. We have been concerned from the beginning with the way we spend our money, our time, and our God-given resources. While careful discernment and responsible stewardship are actions of the dutiful Christian community, we ought to take a second look at ourselves any time we seem to be aligned with Judas.
Judas knew exactly how much that oil would go for on the open market. He knew exactly the worth of this inanimate object that was meant to be used on the dead who couldn’t even enjoy its fragrance. And yet he will sell out his friend to the authorities for less than half the price of this oil. He knows its worth, but he does not understand the worth of his friendship, does not see who Jesus really is. Mary does know, and she understands that Jesus is worth more than any expense could cover. In this moment of intimacy and lavish abundance, Mary is the church embodied, worshipping as we are meant to, with abandon and with awe and with delight. The price is irrelevant. The premature timing of the rite is an aside. All that matters is the fleeting incarnation, the chosen mortality of the almighty, the humility of divinity to be touched by human hands. Mary has been a faithful friend and an attentive student, and because of this she knows what her fellow disciples continue to misunderstand. The body of Jesus is not going to be among them much longer. The voice of the teacher will be silenced, the light of the world will flicker and fail. And like her brother who was dead and is alive again, Mary has faith that life will bloom on the other side of death. Mary has faith that the grave will not be the last line of the story. And what does she give, knowing that all that lies ahead is unknown? She gives what she has without care for the judgment of those who witness her. It is because of those witnesses that we know this part of the story, it is because of her ministry to Jesus that history has preserved her name for us to know it even now.
There are people witnessing us, witnessing you, every day. There are people watching you and seeing your gifts, your resources, what you have to offer. Some may sneer, some may believe you squander valuable time and energy on this organized religion nonsense. Perhaps at times you wonder if they’re right. Others may ask why you put your money into the common purse of the parish, when other organizations exist to distribute it among the poor. Others may call what we do here a waste. And still, others watch wide eyed in wonder as you reach out your hands to receive a little bread, a little wine. Eyes of seekers, young eyes and sad eyes and lonely eyes are on you every day, watching, questioning, waiting to glimpse what’s so important about Jesus that you would give so much of your life to a community gathered in that name. What are they seeing, when they look at you? What gifts are you offering unabashedly? What gifts are being squandered on a shelf, locked away for a special occasion that will never come? We are all at times spendthrifts with our love, with our time, with our selves. We are all at times, like Judas, preoccupied with the choices of others, fixated on productivity and efficiency and judgment. And by the Grace of God we are all given the chance, every single day, to choose a life like Mary’s. A life drenched in love, saturated with the teachings of Jesus and centered in our family of disciples. A life made up of actions that tell the story of salvation even when words fail, a life pointed toward Christ. That kind of love is costly. But it is always worth the price.
Mother A Writes 