Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] April 3, 2022 “Mary the Prophet” John 12: 1-8 – Common English Bible Six days before Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, home of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2 Lazarus and his sisters hosted a dinner for him. Martha served and Lazarus was among those who joined him at the table. 3 Then Mary took an extraordinary amount, almost three-quarters of a pound,[a] of very expensive perfume made of pure nard. She anointed Jesus’ feet with it, then wiped his feet dry with her hair. The house was filled with the aroma of the perfume. 4 Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), complained, 5 “This perfume was worth a year’s wages![b] Why wasn’t it sold and the money given to the poor?” (6 He said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief. He carried the money bag and would take what was in it.) 7 Then Jesus said, “Leave her alone. This perfume was to be used in preparation for my burial, and this is how she has used it. 8 You will always have the poor among you, but you won’t always have me.” Mary did four scandalous things in a row. And just to be clear, with a Bible full of Mary’s, this is Mary of Bethany – Mary of the famous duo Mary and Martha, sisters of Lazarus. So, four scandalous things: 1)She loosened her hair in a room full of men, which an “honorable” woman would never do. 2)She poured perfume on Jesus’ feet. The head, maybe. People put oil on the heads of kings – living kings – but never the feet. That was for the dead. 3)She was a single woman rubbing a single man’s feet. That’s something that would never be done, not even among friends. 4)She wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair, which to me, frankly, just seems gross. Inexplicable. An all-around bizarre way to end an all-around bizarre series of very inappropriate acts. Well, there was one more scandalous thing. She spent a year’s wages on that one jar of perfume. Let’s say you make $10,000 a year. She spent your annual salary of $10,000. The cost of living in Bethany was less than it is in San Diego. A version of this same story is told in all four gospels, but with different details: In Matthew and Mark, an unnamed woman anoints Jesus’ head with expensive oil at the home of Simon the Leper during the last days of his life. The disciples were angry at the expense, calling it wasteful. In Luke, a “notorious sinner” comes into the home of Simon the Pharisee and kisses Jesus’ feet and anoints them with her tears and perfumed oil, wiping his feet with her hair. But this is early in Jesus’ ministry, not within days of his execution. In this case, Jesus holds this “notorious sinner” up as a positive example of hospitality in contrast to the rudeness of this host, Simon the Pharisee. This is not related to his death. And as you heard, in John, it is Mary who anointed his feet and wiped them with her hair. Not a stranger, not a notorious sinner. And it’s in the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus – dear friends of Jesus, not Simon somebody. That’s the same Lazarus that Jesus had just a short time ago raised from the dead – after sitting decomposing for four days. On that occasion, concern was expressed about the overwhelming smell from four days of decomposing flesh. At this dinner, mention is made about the overwhelming scent of perfume filling the room, even stinging the nostrils. The odor of death replaced with the odor of love – in preparation for his death. And in this case, only Judas, not the disciples, expressed anger at the expense, which John explained was because he was a thief. I don’t know why this one story is told in so many different ways with such a variation on the details, but this is my favorite version. Mary. She got it. She listened intently, sometimes maybe a little too much for Martha’s taste. You may remember that infamous dinner party. But Mary got it. Jesus had already told The Twelve three times that he would suffer, be rejected and killed at the hands of the authorities in Jerusalem and on the third day rise. They didn’t get it. Peter even scolded Jesus for saying such things. But Mary paid close attention and carefully prepared her response. She pulled together a massive amount of money. When you go to most Indian reservations, it’s hard not to see the extreme poverty. I’ve taken groups of youth and adults to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation 8 times. Pine Ridge lies in the far southwest corner of South Dakota, about a hundred miles from Mount Rushmore. The last time I checked the statistics, it is the third most impoverished county in the country. The other two are also reservations in South Dakota. The only place with a lower life expectancy in the Western Hemisphere is Haiti. Casinos have brought economic activity to many tribes, but Pine Ridge is too remote for much of an impact. The unemployment rate is 80 to 90%. In an area the size of Connecticut, there is one full service grocery and one Indian Health Service hospital. There are clinics in some villages open once a week that will serve the first six clients in line. Behind all the obvious poverty, there is much that visitors can miss at first glance. Beauty, strength, creativity, and resilience. And extraordinary generosity, especially for the dead. Scattered around the reservation are tiny little cemeteries, some with just a dozen or more graves. Many of those graves have absolutely beautiful, elaborate head stones. Among the first things a first-time guest will ask – why would people who are so poor spend so much money on a head stone? How would you answer? An act of love? Careless and wasteful? A sign of respect for the dead? We could debate the wisdom of this expenditure, but I think that’s best left for people to decide for themselves. Mary is using her “head stone” money in advance, while Jesus is still alive. It’s often said that we should have wakes for the living so we can hear how much people love us, not talk about the dead after they’re dead. Mary didn’t want to wait. But yet, why spend so much money? Judas’ motivations may have been faulty but his question wasn’t wrong. Why wasn’t this money given to the poor? But Jesus quickly brushed his concern aside. “Leave her alone,” he said. “She bought it for the day of my burial. You’ll always have the poor with you but you will not always have me.” Mary understood his time was running out. Jesus said it would happen in Jerusalem, and here they were. Bethany is practically a suburb. “You’ll always have the poor.” How many times have you heard that quote? Usually as an excuse to do nothing. Or it’s something about God’s will. It’s an abusive use of scripture. His audience would have known the context of his comment. In Deuteronomy 15:11 it says, “Poor persons will never disappear from the earth. That’s why I’m giving you this command: You must open your hand generously to your fellow Israelites, to the needy among you (OK, take care of your own), and to the poor who live with you in your land,” i.e. immigrants, foreigners, and “those people.” As a faithful Jew, what she spent on that expensive perfume would have been in addition to what she already gave for people who are poor. No, as one of the disciples, not one of the 12, but one of the disciples who paid close attention to Jesus, she was preparing for his death. But her actions were also like those of a prophet. Prophets often did strange and bizarre things. Scandalous things. For example, Ezekiel ate the scroll of the Lord. It was a sign that he carried the word of God around inside of him. Isaiah walked around naked. It was a message against the nations. Jeremiah paid money to buy a field in the middle of a garbage dump, perhaps not so unlike Mary who spent a year’s wages to buy expensive perfume to pour on feet of someone who is alive. Each of these shocking actions was meant to send a message. Most people write prophets off as nuts. But they are acting out a truth that few people can see. While some laugh at prophets, others silently recognize that prophets bring disturbing news from God. Mary, the disciple and prophet, was delivering the news that Jesus’ death was imminent. There’s no time to waste. That extravagant perfume was a disturbing sign of Jesus’ death and called wasteful by some. But that exorbitant amount of money was also news of an extravagant God, which some people find just as wasteful and disturbing. My church in Cleveland was a hub for people in recovery. In addition to nine different AA, CA, and NA groups every week, we had turned our parsonage into a home for people in recovery – a three-quarter house. Halfway between a halfway house and full independence. Dozens of people went in and out of our basement fellowship hall every night but only a few at a time came up the steps to the sanctuary on Sunday. One day at the coffeehouse next door to the church, I recognized a man I’ll call Jerry who went down into the fellowship hall regularly. I waved and said, “Hey, you should come upstairs some time.” He laughed and said, “No, you don’t want the building to fall down!” Not the first time I’d heard that. We kept up this friendly exchange until one day he called me over to his table and we began talking. After about a year Jerry told me I’d see him in church on Sunday. Shocked and pleased, I knew it would never happen. It wasn’t necessary for him to keep concocting excuses why he couldn’t – work, car problems… I understood. He may have wanted to, but Jerry didn’t believe in the God I described to him. A God of love and forgiveness. He didn’t want that. He hated the story of the prodigal son. Unrealistic, he said. Jerry wanted a God he could trust, which meant he believed in a God without mercy. A strict authoritarian figure, maybe to help keep him on his recovery track. He thought things like love and grace would be wasted on someone like him. I liked Jerry. I think he liked me, as geeky as I was next to him. I just wish he could have liked himself. Or at least allowed God to like him. Jesus loved him whether he wanted it or not. But like a lot of our hard-living neighbors, Jerry didn't dare to believe that and perhaps thought it too risky to even hope. Following this meal at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, Jesus will gather one last time with his friends and followers. Around one more supper table. And there, more shocking than the extravagance of the perfume and shame of Mary’s hair and physical touch, more scandalous than all that, the Messiah will strip down, tie a towel around his waist, lower himself down on the floor, and wash his disciples’ feet. They must have thought he’d lost his mind. And then it made sense. He gave them a new commandment. As I have loved you, love one another. Especially Judas and Jerry. Around that table, at least one of the disciples will argue with him, one will betray him, one will later deny him. But perhaps a few disciples will remember how the prophet Mary already enacted this ritual in advance. Before Jesus told them his new commandment to love, Mary had already shown them how. Mary, the prophet and the beloved disciple who models faithfulness for us: to share generously, to love one another extravagantly, and to participate in healing the deep wounds of the world. And maybe even dare to accept the healing of our own wounds.
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