“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.’” (John
12:1-8)
“Why was
this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the
poor?" Judas sounds like those of us passionate about the stewardship of
church finances and mission dollars. In light of downward economic trends, strenuous
capital campaigns, and heightened sensitivity (read: anxiety) about where and
how every budgeted dollar is spent, there is little to no room for random
displays of extravagance. That said, we might think this woman in John 12
was out of line and irresponsible.
Frankly,
if I had been in the home of Lazarus, I would have likely echoed the rogue
disciple. I would have been quick to remind the Teacher about how snatching
bread and fish from a young boy to feed 6,000+ hungry neighbors (John 6:1-15)
was inconsistent with this woman’s
spilling of her assets for a foot washing. The 300 denarii surely could have
benefited the revolutionary movement of justice and generosity far more than an
adolescent’s bagged lunch.
And as
the last words fell from my lips, my eyes would have met those of Christ. Who was
I to challenge the generosity of this
faithful disciple, whose name was Mary, as she washed the feet of
her Teacher with her hair? How dare I question the integrity of Mary's public
testament to the gospel she claimed as her own mere days after her brother,
Lazarus, was raised from the dead? Was I paying any attention if I thought
for a second Jesus was primarily concerned with or limited by denarii? In this
moment, my self-righteousness masked as socially-informed piety would have been
challenged, a la Judas, as a grand thief of grace and welcome. With my nose
turned up, I would have missed the fragrance of resurrected hope that overcame
any lingering scent of death and despair this family knew too well. Even more, I
would have been ignorant of Mary’s newly empowered status as a steward of abundance
in the midst of lonely narratives of scarcity, sorrow, and marginalization.
Sure, I would
have been right about there being worthy neighbors able to benefit from these
funds. I also would have been very wrong to dismiss Mary, as though she was not
one such neighbor, whose story illustrated what the Psalmist wrote:
When the Lord restored the fortunes of
Zion,
we were like
those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue
with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations,
“The Lord has
done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us,
and we rejoiced.
(Psalm 126:1-3)
Lent, a
pilgrimage over which the Spirit hovers, is hard. The related lectionary
readings, which illumine our way to Holy Week, are complicated. The liturgical
season questions us and dares us to turn away from self-righteous cynicism and
towards an assurance that the very One who raised Lazarus from the dead and
welcomed Mary at his feet has equipped us to practice the same resurrection and
hospitality in our communities today. May the church never cease to do so as we
dream alongside the poor and marginalized always among us as empowered stewards
of God’s extravagant grace. May God’s people fan their fragrance of resurrected
hope in the midst of our wearied churches, communities, and world- even when
such activity appears out of line, over the top, and irresponsible.
------
“However
that may be, it is practical love for one’s neighbor which is played off
against an act which can be made explicable only as an act of love for
Jesus...What emerges clearly in all four accounts is that Jesus not only
defends unconditionally the act of the woman but in all solemnity acknowledges
that it is a good act which belongs necessarily to the history of salvation,
even though it seems to be wholly superfluous, an act of sheer extravagance,
which can serve ‘only’ the purpose of representing direct and perfect
self-giving to Him.”
(Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, p.797).
(Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV.2, p.797).
Notes:
*This post was originally published for the Presbytery of Philadelphia as part of the weekly Lenten reflections on the lectionary by the executive staff:
**Image above from the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth