Kept for His Burial

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.”

When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.

In this text there are four reactions to Jesus and what Mary did. First, there were enemies who wanted to kill him. There is in the human heart that which is hostile to God. We may find that difficult to comprehend but it’s true.

Second, there were many who came to Bethany out of curiosity. They didn’t come just because of Jesus, but also to see Lazarus. The rumor was going around that a man had been raised from the dead. Crowds will always gather to gawk at the strange and unusual.

We don’t have time tonight to focus on those who were hostile to Jesus or just curious about him. But next we have the reaction of disciples, of those who already believed in Jesus. Tonight’s text specifically describes Judas’ stingy response to Mary’s act of devotion. John’s Gospel goes out of its way to paint Judas in dark, insidious colors because he betrayed Jesus. But if you read the other gospel accounts of this story, all of the disciples reacted like Judas did.[1]

Apparently Judas said that the costly perfume should have been sold and the money given to the poor. The writer added that Judas didn’t really care about the poor. But whether he did or not, perhaps he and the others reacted like we would. We like our faith to have a certain order and balance to it and extravagance like Mary’s calls that orderliness into question.

Quite a number of years ago there was a couple at my first church that just didn’t always act wisely. They couldn’t keep a job. They wasted money and they had a lot of bad luck too. So we ministers helped them out of one jam after another. Sometime later they came into some money. I think it was only a few hundred dollars, maybe a thousand. I can’t even remember how they got it, whether they won it or received an inheritance or what. But one of the first things they did when they had cash in their pockets was to go out and buy presents for us. Merrie and I received a very nice table lamp from them which we used for more than 30 years until it was broken by the movers when coming here to Massachusetts.

We didn’t want those gifts. We didn’t need them. We said, “don’t do this. Save your money. Be practical.” But that couple was responding to an inner sense that maybe was higher and finer than all our practicality. They had been helped. So when they received, they were extravagant. That was Mary’s response but it is not the response of most disciples. We’re much too practical and orderly for our own good.

Finally we come to Mary. The text tells us that the perfume she poured on Jesus’ feet was worth 300 denarii. That would be the equivalent of what a laborer earned in a year’s time. So it was worth a lot of money. But the real shock of Mary’s behavior were the overtones, including sexual overtones. We find ourselves uncomfortable when sexuality is brought into the gospels because we’ve so desexualized Jesus and most of the New Testament. But all of that is right here in this text.

The outpouring of all that expensive perfume was extravagant enough, but for a woman to let down her hair and wipe a man’s feet with it would have been at least as extraordinary in their eyes as it would be for us on a comparable occasion. The shock of what they saw must have caused a long, embarrassed silence, broken only by Judas’ voice saying out loud what many were thinking but afraid to say.[2]

If something like that happened today, we would be absolutely shocked. Let’s be perfectly candid here. Can you imagine a dinner party where I was invited and after dessert the hostess did to me something like what Mary did to Jesus? Not only would my Merrie be extremely angry and probably bop the woman. But any one of you who were there would be scandalized! Don’t think it was any less shocking back then. Then Judas blurted out his condemning words. Maybe he cared about the money, maybe he didn’t. But he broke the silence, I think, mostly because he was shocked at what was taking place.

So what was taking place? Mary’s action showed her deep faith in Jesus. There may have been attraction mixed in as well. Mary was devoting her whole self to Jesus because she recognized his dignity and greatness and with costly adoration was showing the others who was in their midst. Perhaps unknown even to herself, Mary witnessed to Jesus’ glory in death and burial.[3] That’s why Jesus said that the perfume was kept for his burial. Mary’s devotion emphasized the importance of Jesus’ dying. That is faith. Faith recognizes Jesus with our costly adoration for who he really is — the One who came to die. Mary’s devotion teaches us that life is only lived well in the light of death. Even Jesus had to go the way of death in order for there to be life.

I think I’ve shared this story with you before but it’s worth repeating. In her book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, Anne Lamott tells about her best friend in the world, Pammy, a single mom who was dying of cancer. Anne found herself deeply depressed and angry and sad, so she sought out Pammy’s doctor, who happened also to be a personal friend. Six months before Pammy died, the doctor said to Anne, “Watch her carefully right now, because she is teaching you how to live.”

Lamott says that changed her life. She reflects: “I remind myself of this when I cannot get any work done: to live as if I’m dying, because the truth is we are all terminal on this bus. To live as if we are dying gives us a chance to experience some real presence. Time is so full for people who are dying in a conscious way, full in a way life is for children. They spend big round hours. So, instead of staring miserably at the computer screen trying to will my way into having a breakthrough, I say to myself, “Okay, hmmm, let’s see. Dying tomorrow. What should I do today?”[4]

Knowing that we’re going to die teaches us how to live. And devotion to Christ, generous, hold-nothing-back love for Christ keeps us focused on this. Jesus Christ shows the way. Because of his death, in dying to ourselves we find eternal life, not just after we die our earthly deaths but now.

A few years back there was an editorial in The New York Times that I saved where the writer said, “The now — our experience of the present moment — feels under attack … [by all the ways our real lives are] made insignificant, made ignoble or forgettable, made hellish, or made in essence non-existent by all sorts of outside forces … like those ubiquitous television sets in airport waiting areas broadcasting programs we don’t want to see or hear, unconscionable numbers of messages on our email, all demanding replies, phone calls at the dinner hour on the subject of platinum cards, magazine subscriptions, mutual funds we don’t own and don’t want.”

The editorial was not particularly religious, but it made a religious point. The writer argued that these interruptions represent a battle for our souls and our time and what we’re going to be devoted to. He concluded, “The pace of life feels morally dangerous to me. And what I wish for is not to stop or even to slow it, but to be able to experience my lived days as valuable days.”[5]

Absolute, generous devotion to Christ makes our days valuable days because our devotion orders our lives by his and our dying. That’s why we need this week. That’s why we cannot rush to Easter. So I hope this week goes slowly for you and me. Slow it down. Read the Holy Week stories in the gospels. Pray more. Take time to meditate. Talk to your family and friends. Call someone to whom you’ve not spoken in a long time. And most of all, dear friends, renew your extravagant devotion to Christ, and watch him carefully right now this week, because in his dying he is teaching us how to live and to die.

[1] Matthew 26.8-9: But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said, “Why this waste? For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum, and the money given to the poor.” Mark 14.4-5: But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her.

[2] F. F. Bruce, The Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1983) 256.

[3] Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, vol. 2, trans. Cecily Hastings, et al. (New York: Crossroad, 1990) 370.

[4] Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (New York: Doubleday, 1994) 179.

[5] Richard Ford, “Our Moments Have All Been Seized,” The New York Times, 27 Dec. 1998: A19.