25 March 2007

John 12:1-8

She remembers that evening. Mary remembers that evening quite clearly. Until the end of her life, Mary would remember that evening. That evening, not long before Jesus’ crucifixion when they all gathered at her home; at her and Martha’s and Lazarus’ home.

It was a celebration, really. For Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, where some of them knew he would attain his greatest power. Jesus was popular beyond anyone expectations at this point and they all expected him to make a grand entrance into Jerusalem. Little did they know at that time how he would do that, never expecting that he would die a terrible death in the process.

But also, there was Lazarus, Mary & Martha’s dear brother. He who had recently been dead himself but now sat among them—raised from the dead by none other than Jesus himself.

Mary, Martha & Lazarus were his friends and disciples. He used their home as a place of respite; a place to rest and restore himself. And this was no different…but it was different. For there sat Lazarus and Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem.

Martha of course was the busy one; the one in the kitchen, the one serving. She prepared the meal and got everything just right.

But Mary had something special for this evening. She had a jar of pure oil of nard, a costly perfume. She used it to anoint Jesus’ feet and then to wash his feet with her hair.

Hospitality at the time of course dictated that guests’ feet be washed. Almost everyone traveled by foot in sandal or by barefoot in those days. In order to be completely relaxed for a meal, the dust from the day’s journey needed to be washed off and the feet relaxed. It was just standard practice.

But Mary’s gesture that day was beyond the standard of everyday hospitality. Mary’s gesture that day was extravagant, profligate almost. By bringing out the perfume for her teacher, her rabbi, her friend, she was saying how special he was. That she would use such an expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet said plenty about their relationship and what she thought of him.

Of course, there was a problem. Judas. The one who would betray Jesus. Maybe he was already plotting his scheme. Who knows? Already disappointed and discouraged that Jesus was not the political hero for which he had been hoping.

Who knows why Judas spoke out against Mary that day. Was it jealousy? Jealous of Mary’s special relationship with Jesus? Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was because he thought the money should really go towards the poor. Or maybe it was, as John tells us, he just wanted to build up the common purse so he could steal more from it. Whatever the motivation, his words no doubt struck that evening like a bolt of thunder, cracking through the air and rumbling off into the distance.

Poor Mary. As Judas’ words hit the ears of everyone gathered that evening, she had to wonder if she had done wrong. Should she have sold that perfume and given the money for the poor?

She looked up, looked up into Jesus’ eyes and found there what she had always known: his love, his understanding, his appreciation. Then she knew that all was well. That Judas had misspoken. That whatever motivated Judas, Mary place with Jesus was secure.

Jesus didn’t discount the need to take care of the poor. In fact, he said the poor would always be around; needing our care and of utmost concern to anyone following him. This care about the poor has been a hallmark of his ministry. Really, care about anyone on the outside, on the margins. And this one evening is not any different. It does not discount one bit his ministry to date.

But Jesus was looking forward—forward to his journey to Jerusalem where he knew he would be facing the ultimate sacrifice by giving his earthly life. And Mary, he said, was prepared for that like no one else was.

Maybe she knew something was up too and was communicating this to Jesus. Maybe she thought this trip to Jerusalem would be the end too. And she was letting Jesus know, with this extravagant cleansing of his feet, that she knew too. That he wasn’t alone. That she would stay with him until the end, which she did. Maybe she had an inkling, an intuition, a feeling. No it was more. She wasn’t in denial like the others. She knew that Jesus was facing his death; unlike the men who were gathered there—unlike Judas—who couldn’t face that truth.

She would remember that night for the rest of her life. Mary would clearly remember that night for the rest of her life, which is perhaps why this story is carried down to us today. Maybe we have this story in our scripture because Mary so clearly remembered it and passed on the tale of the evening that she washed Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume, just before his death.


Neither should we be in denial about Jesus. We can’t avoid the fact that humanity treated him as badly as humanity can treat another human. We can’t avoid the fact that coming up is Good Friday, with all that that means. As Mary was cognizant of the fact that her precious rabbi must die, so we must too face facts and recognize that our savior is once again going to go through betrayal, denial and an ugly death.

Mary was prepared to love her teacher to the fullest while she could. We have the advantage of the resurrection to love our Christ to the fullest always. Do we?