John 12:1-8
April 3, 2022
Traffic had come to a standstill on
a road in Iowa. Usually when traffic came to a standstill in Iowa, it was
because of a farm implement trying to navigate the road on the way to whatever
farm or field it was needed on.
But this time the traffic was at a
standstill because a state trooper had stopped his car and was directing
traffic to drive slowly around his vehicle. I couldn’t see the reason he had
stopped until I got closer, and I was surprised when I did finally see what the
problem was. There was a little puppy, obviously scared and confused, wandering
on the side of the road. As I watched the trooper went over and picked up the
little dog and carried it back to his car.
I was so touched by the trooper’s
actions, that I admit to wiping away a tear as I drove on. I realized that the
puppy would not have been seen by very many drivers, and if it had, I’m not
sure how many of them would have taken the time to stop and care for it. If
that trooper hadn’t stopped, it’s a good bet the little guy would have been hit
and killed.
It was sweet and lovely to see what
this trooper did. I suspect that rescuing puppies were not a top priority on
his job description. I realize that he rescued a puppy not a human being, but
we would expect a trooper to rescue a human being. We would be outraged if he
didn’t. So, the fact that he took a moment to get a puppy out of harm’s way
made that moment even sweeter. This happened a long time ago, but I have never
forgotten it. I knew when I saw what the trooper was doing, the reason he had
halted traffic, that I was witnessing a moment of compassion and kindness. To
see this trooper’s kindness was an unexpected gift on an otherwise ordinary
day. And I have come to realize that moments like these, moments that contain
such gifts, are not something that you see every day, sadly.
What we have in this story from John’s gospel is a moment of
unexpected compassion and kindness. Mary took a moment to give Jesus a loving
gift, a gift of compassion and kindness. Versions of this story of a woman
anointing Jesus are found in all four gospels. In both Matthew and Mark, the
woman who anointed Jesus with precious nard did so for the same purpose as in
John’s gospel; it was about Jesus’ burial. Yet in Luke’s gospel, the woman who
anointed Jesus was a sinner who realized how forgiven she truly was. Anointing
Jesus was a response to this forgiveness. In each version, the woman’s actions
are scorned. And each gospel writer records that Jesus told the people who
grumbled about her to leave her alone. But only in John’s gospel did this woman
have a name. This woman was Mary, the younger sister of Martha. Her brother was
Lazarus. In Luke’s gospel this same Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to him
while her sister, Martha, worked frantically to prepare the meal and clean the
house for the Rabbi.
Jesus
was once more a guest in the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus; and as we learn
in the first verse, it was six days before the Passover. Martha served the
meal. Lazarus, who had been dead but was alive once more, was at table with
Jesus and the others. I can well imagine that there was a great deal of
activity happening in every corner of the house. Amid all this hustle and
bustle, Mary took a large amount of perfume made from pure nard and began to
anoint Jesus’ feet with it. As she anointed his feet with the nard, she wiped
them with her hair. The fragrance of the perfume filled the house, making her
action impossible to miss or ignore. What’s more this perfume, this nard, was expensive.
In ordinary circumstances, it would have been doled out in precise measure to
prevent any waste. But this was no ordinary circumstance. I suspect that she
wasn’t concerned about waste or extravagance. I envision her pouring it on his
feet lavishly and lovingly.
Any
of the others watching this would have been shocked by Mary’s behavior, but it
was Judas who spoke up. He complained that if Mary had access to such an
expensive nard, why wasn’t it sold for a lot of money? That money could have
been given to the poor instead of poured out. In an aside, John explains that
Judas didn’t give a hoot about the poor. He only wanted the money for himself
because he was a thief and stole from the common purse.
Jesus
immediately defended Mary’s actions, but his response is disturbing.
“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.”
“You always have the poor with you?” That
seems completely contrary to everything Jesus has said about the poor and the
weak and the vulnerable to this point. Jesus made it clear time and again that
he came for the poor and the weak and the vulnerable. He came for the others,
the forgotten, the lost, the lonely. But in this story, his attitude about the
poor seems cavalier at best.
“You always have the poor with you.”
Scholars
speculate that Jesus wasn’t dismissing the poor in this statement. He was
referencing verses in the Old Testament that stated that there would always be
poor people and people in great need; therefore, they should always be welcomed
and cared for. I doubt that Jesus suddenly decided that the poor didn’t matter.
But when Mary began to anoint him, he knew that this was a moment of compassion
and kindness that was not only nice but necessary. He was still with them,
still living, but it would not always be that way. He would soon die a
criminal’s death. The rituals and rites of burial would be denied to him before
his execution. Mary anointed him for his burial while she could. She showed him
love while she could. It was a moment made for compassion.
I
keep emphasizing the word moment
because this story is about a moment of compassion during many other moments
that were anything but. Knowing the larger context this story is set in,
knowing about those other moments, is important for understanding what’s
happening in this moment. As it states at the beginning of the passage, Jesus
was at table in the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Lazarus had been dead but
was now alive and at table with Jesus. It hadn’t been that long since Jesus had
raised Lazarus from the tomb. Raising Lazarus caused many people who witnessed
this miracle to believe in Jesus. But it had also frightened and worried many
more. Once you’re dead, you’re supposed to stay dead. That’s the only decent
thing to do. If Jesus had the power to change the order of life and death, then
he was too powerful. The chief priests and Pharisees knew that Jesus had to be
stopped. If more and more people believed in him, then the Romans would find
out and destroy them all. Perhaps he could bring others back from the dead, but
surely he could not change that ending for himself. So, a plot to kill him was
put into motion.
Jesus
must have been fully aware of this plot because John states that from that time
on Jesus could not move about openly. He went to a town called Ephraim, which
was near the wilderness, and he stayed there with his disciples; until this
moment when they came to Bethany and the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.
Yet
this dinner party did not go unnoticed. In the verses following our story, we
learn that when people discovered where Jesus was, they came in great numbers
to see him and to see Lazarus who was
raised from the dead. This made the powers that be even more nervous. Lazarus
was literally living proof of Jesus’ power. Not only did Jesus need to be
silenced, but Lazarus must also be silenced. Immediately after our story, a
plot to kill Lazarus was hatched.
So,
this is the context in which this moment occurred – this moment in which a
loving gift was given. Murderous schemes were in play both before this moment
and after. The tension and fear must have been palpable. Yet in this time of
fear and anxiety, Mary, who once sat at Jesus’ feet to listen and learn from
him, took a place at his feet once more. And she anointed those dusty, dirty,
tired feet with precious perfume. She wiped the perfume away with her hair. It
was an intimate act, a loving act. No doubt her actions scandalized everyone
watching, because that kind of intimacy between a man and woman would never
have been displayed so openly; and it certainly would not have been acceptable
in private for anyone except a husband and wife.
Yet
however inappropriate her actions might have been, however socially
unacceptable and taboo, it was not a time for following social codes or rules.
It was a time for compassion. It was a time for kindness. It was a time for
unconditional love and tenderness. Somehow Mary knew this. Somehow, she got it.
Maybe she understood what his disciples could not; that she only had a short
time left with her Teacher. She only had a short time left, and in that moment
the minister needed ministry. He needed compassion. He needed kindness. She
responded to that need with her whole being. It was a loving gift.
On
this fifth Sunday in Lent, as we move toward triumphal entries, terrible death,
and empty tombs, as we move closer and closer to Jerusalem, maybe it is a good
time to stop and consider the loving gifts we have been given. Who has given
you an unexpected gift when you needed it most? Who has showed you compassion
and kindness, ministered to you, when you least expected it? Mr. Rogers used to
ask people to close their eyes for 10 seconds and remember a person who has
loved you into being. I’m going to do that now. For 10 seconds, close your eyes
and think of one person who loved you into being, who loved you with compassion
and kindness. Start now.
Who
did you remember? Who loved you into being? Give thanks for that person,
because their love was a gift, just as Mary’s anointing was a gift for Jesus.
The call today and everyday is to offer that loving gift to others. Who needs
our compassion and kindness? Who needs a loving gift from us? May we all give
someone and everyone the gift of compassion, the gift of kindness, the gift of
extravagant love.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Amen.”
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