Preparing to Lose Jesus

Today, we receive a story that exists in some format or other throughout all four of the Gospels. The story of a woman, anointing Jesus with oil, and then someone or some people, objecting to this action. The location, identity of the woman, body part that is anointed, who objects all varies, depending on the Gospel book. But this story is valuable enough to the teachings of Jesus, that it shows up in each of the four Gospels.

The version today is John’s—and perhaps because it was written later that the rest, and for a very particular audience, might be the most specific of any of the versions. In this version, we are at Bethany, particularly at the home of Jesus’ close friends, Martha, Lazarus, and Mary. Mary is the one doing the anointing of Jesus’ feet, and Judas is the one who objects.

Let’s recall that Martha, Mary, and Lazarus are like Jesus’ family. He returns to them many times, and most recently, just a few verses earlier, has just raised Lazarus from the dead. This event is just days before the Passover, days before Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, days before his arrest, crucifixion and eventual resurrection.

So here at Bethany, at the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary, they are giving a dinner for Jesus. Martha is serving—and as a note particularly to all the young women and girls here, the word used for her here is diakona, which is where we get the word deacon, which is a ministry leader in the church, so don’t let anyone tell you that women didn’t have roles of leadership in the early church—anyhow, Martha is serving, Lazarus is sitting at table with Jesus with the other disciples and followers.

Then comes Mary.

Mary comes to Jesus, with a jar of expensive oil—a full pound of it—and in front of all of those gathered begins to anoint his feet, and dries them with her hair. This, admittedly, is an odd act. It is particularly intimate, fully embodied, and done in the middle of a gathered body having a meal.

I want us to consider what has recently happened to Mary. Her brother Lazarus died, and died when her family expected Jesus would come and heal him so that he would not die. Then, days after her brother has died, her dear family friend returned to their home, wept and mourned with them over the loss of Lazarus, and then brought her brother back to life. That is a heavy mental and emotional load of grief, sorrow, confusion, anger, joy, disbelief, and more. Also, it is likely that, because of this raising of Lazarus, this news has spread to the Pharisees and Mary may know or suspect that both Jesus and Lazarus are being sought by the authorities; that they are not living in a space of safety. She is near to the possibility of death again but is likely carrying a new outlook on the power of death, following the raising of her brother. In this act of anointing, Mary is preparing to lose Jesus.

Now, there are a variety of ways that scholars and hearers of this story in the Gospel take Mary’s actions. One way to see her actions is a kind of “second to last supper”. There is a meal shared, disciples and followers gathered, and Mary enacts the service of love through foot anointing, which will lead up to Jesus’ call for his followers to wash one another’s feet.  Another way, perhaps one of the most common understandings, is that Mary is preparing Jesus’ body for burial. Anointing of the body would occur as preparation for burial, oils being used to mask the scent of bodies that have died. In the gospel of John, at his death, Jesus will be anointed, but it will be by men who are afraid to make their faith public. Here, Mary is owning a moment to reveal her understanding of what is about to happen to Jesus, to show this understanding and care for the moment they are in boldly, to embody her faith. A final way of understanding Mary’s actions here, actually has to do with the ritual cleansing or washing of feet that a person would undergo before stepping into the temple. Because the  feet were not a typical place on the body to be anointed, there are some scholars who offer that “With insight about the threat Jesus is under, and now with complete faith in his identity[…]able to raise her brother to life, Mary prepares Jesus for his final return to God’s heavenly temple.” This is like a foot washing plus. She is preparing to lose Jesus in the way she relates to Jesus now, but is—out of care and love—preparing him for something more, a return home, a return to God…

All of these ways of reading Mary’s actions here reveal her understanding—long before any of the other disciples—of who Jesus is, and what is about to happen.

Then comes Judas. In this Gospel, Judas is the one to object to Mary’s actions, to push back against this extravagant and intimate expression of care for Jesus. He calls out that the expensive oil she has used could fetch 300 denarii, a years worth of wages, and that money could all be given to the poor. We also receive some insider information about Judas here, that he one, will betray Jesus, and two, has been keeping and stealing from the common purse already. But here’s the thing, Judas’ argument is not an unfamiliar one. How often have any of us wondered if something used by ourselves or others was an extravagance that could be put to “better” use. It’s not a bad curiosity, but his intention is tied more to his own will than to the work of Jesus.

 Judas is following Jesus in body, but not in heart. We hear from the text that he doesn’t actually want that money to go to the poor, he will likely take it, and yet he still is with the disciples, following Jesus, hearing Jesus’ teachings. He is learning to understand what is right, but not necessarily make the choices to act that way. And we here, being imperfect humans like Judas, also act that way. We do not have to be stealing or labeled a thief to be motivated by the idea of doing good while not actually following through. We can be guilty of calling out something that seems like extravagance or wastefulness to us, because often that act of pointing fingers is easier than the actual work of emptying ourselves or truly being in service to our neighbors.

Jesus recognizes this in Judas and appeals to him: “Leave her alone…” he says. Mary is acknowledging the needs of the moment. She is responding from a place of deep, cultivated faith. She has slowed down enough, sat and listened at Jesus’ feet enough, learned and payed attention through her grief and joy. She is preparing to lose Jesus.

Jesus says to Judas, and perhaps the whole gathering, as the you becomes that plural “all y’all” that I’ve mentioned before… “You will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me…” It is thought that this might be a call back to a line in Deuteronomy:

“Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’”

Judas is presenting his issue with Mary’s actions as a binary: either you love the poor, or you love Jesus. Jesus is trying to get Judas and us to understand something more expansive. That we are called to deepen our faith by sitting, just being, with Jesus, by learning from Jesus’ actions and teachings, and allowing them to inform the way we respond in the world. That our call towards the poor and the needy—of all kinds—is rooted in our relationship with and love for Jesus, “ensuring that our acting in the world is really for Jesus, not just imposing our own will.”

Today, I will make my first of likely a few strong encouragements towards a clear opportunity to sit with Jesus in the near future. Next Sunday will mark the beginning of Holy Week, and among many other things, it is the time that is particularly carved out in our church year where we might sit with Jesus, that we might be like Mary and prepare to lose Jesus. The Holy Week offerings, from Maundy Thursday, to Good Friday, to Easter —are important because they allow us to deepen our devotion to God.

So that is my invitation: Be at the feet of Jesus. There are of course other things. There will always be other things. Be at the feet of Jesus during Holy Week. Sit with him. Pray with him. Mourn and cry and grieve with and for him. Eat with him. Be at his feet and—the same way the scent of the oil filled Mary’s home— allow the scent of life to fill you, to overcome the stench of death. Sit with Jesus, with the scent of that oil, that extravagance, be filled by it, and then carry that extravagant love of God with you. “Become so saturated in the perfume of God’s love, so that you render that scent wherever you go.”  Sit with Jesus. Prepare to lose him. And be so filled with him that you can do nothing but love extravagantly in his name. Amen.