Misunderstood Extravagance First Baptist Richmond, April 7, 2019 the Fifth Sunday in Lent John 12:1-8

Misunderstood Extravagance First Baptist Richmond, April 7, 2019 The Fifth Sunday in Lent John 12:1-8

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.

If you knew there was a Bible story about a woman, and Jesus, and some perfume, but you couldn’t quite remember who the woman was, or when she showed up in the story, or what she did with that perfume, well…you would be in good company.

Each of the Gospel writers tells a story about a woman anointing Jesus, but each of them tells it in a slightly different way. In Mark’s Gospel Jesus is in Bethany at the home of Simon the Leper when an unknown woman comes and pours out a jar of “very costly” ointment on his head (14:3-9). Mark says some were there who became angry, and said, “Why was this ointment wasted in this way? It could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor!” But Jesus said, “Let her alone. She has performed a good service for me. And wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Matthew’s version is almost identical to Mark’s (26:6-13). Jesus is again in

Bethany, at the home of Simon the Leper. An unnamed woman comes and pours out a jar of expensive ointment on his head. But this time it is the disciples who protest, saying,

“What a waste! Why wasn’t this ointment sold and the money given to the poor?” Jesus rebukes them just as he rebukes those others in Mark’s Gospel and says, “By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the

Gospel is preached in the whole world what she has done will be told in remembrance of

her.”

Luke also tells a story about a woman and some ointment, but it is a very different

story, and it takes place much earlier in his Gospel (7:36-50). While Jesus is at the home

of a Pharisee named Simon a woman who is known throughout her little town as a

“sinner” comes with an alabaster jar of ointment. Luke says, “She stood behind him at his

feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair.

Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.” There is no

talk about death and burial in this story; only sin and forgiveness. Jesus says that she has

poured out all this love simply because she has received so much forgiveness.

And then we come to the Gospel of John, today’s text, where Jesus is in Bethany,

but not at the home of Simon the Leper (12:1-8). In this Gospel he is at the home of his old friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus—the same Lazarus he raised from the dead in the

previous chapter. Martha is hosting a dinner party for Jesus and his disciples and Lazarus

is one of those at the table, but it is Mary who comes to Jesus with a pound of pure nard,

pours it on his feet, and wipes them with her hair. And this time it is Judas Iscariot, the

one who is about to betray him, who objects. “Why was this perfume not sold for three

hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” And Jesus rebukes him by saying,

“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.”

Now, you tell me: is it one story told four different ways, or are these four

different stories? Obviously, something happened in the course of Jesus’ ministry: some

woman came to him and anointed his head or his feet with expensive ointment or

perfume. But the details have gotten a little fuzzy over time, and each Gospel writer

seems to remember the story in his own way. Maybe our task this morning is not to figure

out which of the four is the most accurate, but to look closely at the one before us—the

one from John’s Gospel—and listen for the Word of God.

One thing we notice right away is that John is not afraid to name names. He tells us that Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Lazarus, when all this happened; he tells us that it was Judas Iscariot who protested, saying the perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor; and he tells us that it was Mary who poured it out on Jesus’ feet. Mary. For the first time in these stories the unnamed woman is named.

In my research last week I learned that Mary is the most common female name in the New Testament, given to roughly one in five women, which may explain why there seems to be a Mary on every page of the Gospels. But John makes it clear that this Mary is not the mother of Jesus, and not Mary Magdalene: she is Mary of Bethany, the sister of

Lazarus and Martha. We’ve met her before. She shows up in the chapter just before this one in John’s Gospel, in the raising of Lazarus, where she kneels at the feet of Jesus and says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” And then she shows up in Luke, chapter 10, in the story where Martha complains about her irresponsible sister who only wants to sit at Jesus’ feet.

Mary always seems to be at Jesus’ feet.

In Luke 10 she sat there listening to him, drinking in every word that he said. And although her sister criticized her Jesus praised her, saying, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” I hadn’t noticed before that Jesus

says she has “chosen” the better part, suggesting that Mary had a choice—to help her

sister in the kitchen or sit at Jesus’ feet—and she chose the latter. It doesn’t mean it was an easy choice. She knew she would hear about it from her sister later and as a woman living in that time and place I’m sure she felt the burden of responsibility to help in the kitchen and serve the meal. But that was Jesus out there in the other room! And he was teaching! And she couldn’t miss that opportunity.

In the early days of my ministry I once drove for more than two hours just to hear the Reverend Doctor James A. Forbes preach. Forbes was pastor of the legendary

Riverside Church in New York City and a friend in the ministry had told me that if I ever got a chance to hear him I should do it. I did, and I was glad that I did. I can still remember the sermon he preached that day and the way he did it, starting off slow and gentle and then building to a thundering crescendo where he slashed the air with one finger as if he were sword fighting. I’ve heard him many times since, but I will never forget that electrifying first experience. If someone had told me that I really needed to stay home that day and attend a meeting of the local Baptist association I would have had a choice to make, and I think I know which way that one would have gone.

Mary chose to take off her apron and sit at the feet of Jesus. She listened to him— deeply. She drank in every word that he said. And I have this feeling about Mary, this feeling that she “got” Jesus as nobody else did. The title of this sermon series is

“Misunderstood,” and I’ve been talking about some of the ways Jesus was misunderstood on the way to the cross, but I have a feeling that Mary understood him like nobody else in the Gospels. I can almost see her, sitting at Jesus’ feet nodding her head and smiling while everyone else is scratching their heads and looking confused. You teachers in the

4 room know what I’m talking about: every once in a while you get that one student who seems to be completely tuned in to what you are saying, that one student who gets it, and gets you.

Mary “got” Jesus.

Judas didn’t. When Mary poured out a pound of pure nard on Jesus’ feet Judas said, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” The author of John’s Gospel is quick to point out that he said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he carried the common purse for Jesus and the disciples and used to steal what was put into it. That may be true, but how many times have we said exactly that sort of thing? When someone at my last church suggested we buy a Steinway concert grand piano for the sanctuary there was a chorus of objections that went up. “If we want to spend a hundred thousand dollars on something let’s spend it on our homeless ministry, and not some silly piano!” Where did those people get their inspiration? From Jesus! (who was always talking about our responsibility to the poor). In fact, what Judas says about selling the perfume and giving the money to the poor sounds like an answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?”

Mary had a choice. On the one hand, she could sell that bottle of perfume for three hundred denarii and give the money to the poor. On the other hand she could break it open and pour it out on Jesus’ feet in an extravagant act of love. She chose the latter, and instead of scolding her for her wastefulness Jesus praised her for her devotion.

“Leave her alone,” Jesus said to Judas. “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.”

He didn’t mean that we don’t have a responsibility for the poor. We do, and we always

will. He only meant that in that moment, under those circumstances, Mary made the right

choice.

She “got” Jesus.

She seemed to understand as no one else in that room did that he was on his way

to the cross, that exactly one week after that cheerful, candlelit dinner party Jesus would

be lying alone in the stone-cold darkness of a borrowed tomb. And so she did what she

could in advance: she anointed his body for burial. She poured out her most priceless

possession on his feet. She let down her hair and wiped them dry. And although John

doesn’t say so, like the woman in Luke’s Gospel she must have wept as if she had just

lost her best friend.

Maybe she had.

Mary was different. She didn’t always do the thing that made the most sense. But she did listen to Jesus. She really listened. And then she did what she thought he would want her to do. It makes me wonder: when was the last time you really listened to him? I don’t mean just long enough to get an idea for your sermon or Sunday school lesson and

then go tearing off to write it down before you forget it (as I sometimes do). I mean

sitting at his feet, listening, drinking in every word until your thirst for intimacy—and not

just knowledge—is quenched. Maybe only then can you know the answer to the question

of what Jesus would do.

I have preacher friends who are so passionate about justice that they seem to turn

every Gospel lesson into a sermon about feeding the hungry, or clothing the naked, or

welcoming the stranger. They’re probably out there doing it right now with this one. But

I also have preacher friends who are so passionate about evangelism that they believe

6 their job in every sermon is to get people to the cross, even if that’s not what the text is about at all. They’re probably out there doing it right now with this one. Can we do what

Mary did instead? Can we sit at Jesus’ feet and listen until we truly understand what he’s talking about, until we “get” him, so to speak?

I believe that if I had been at that dinner party that night in Bethany I might have been the one protesting that that bottle of perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor rather than the one pouring it out on his feet. But Mary was different.

She got Jesus. She knew what time it was. She knew it was time to start preparing his body for burial. And although Jesus loved the poor and would have given his life for them (in fact, did!), in that moment he allowed Mary to do what she had to do. He received the extravagant gift she was giving, knowing that it came from a heart full of extravagant love.

He probably had tears in his own eyes.

If we could learn anything from Mary today it would be the importance of listening, really listening, to Jesus; to drink deeply of his teaching and quench our thirst with every word; to pour out our devotion in wasteful, extravagant measures until the bottle is empty, our treasure is spent. And then to get to our feet and go back out into the world that God loves so much he gave his only Son, to keep in our heads and hearts that

Kingdom Jesus was always talking about, and to do our part in establishing it on earth as it is in heaven.

No matter how much it costs.