March 17, 2013
Power of Love
- John 12:1-8
- Dr. Teri Thomas
Several years ago there was a movie called Get Low, starring Robert Duvall. He played a hermit in the woods by the name of Felix Bush. Rumors surround him, such as how he might have killed in cold blood, and that he's in league with the devil.
So the town is surprised when Felix shows up with a fat wad of cash, demanding a "funeral party" for himself. Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), the owner of the local funeral parlor, agrees to advertise a funeral party at which the townsfolk will be invited to tell Felix Bush the stories they've heard about him. To insure a good turnout, a lottery is organized, with Bush's property as the prize. Many people buy tickets. However, nobody wants to tell a story because people fear reprisal from Bush.
Things get more complicated when an old mystery is remembered, involving a local widow and her deceased sister. Bush tells those gathered at his funeral party, what happened forty years earlier.
It was one of those rare cases where everyone was able to say what they needed to say to the living. Instead of waiting until someone died and being left with nothing but regret.
I can’t tell you how often I sit with families to plan funerals and someone tells a story about the deceased and another family member says, I never knew that about dad or mom. Or they tell me their deep feelings for their loved one adding- I only wish I had told her that before she died.
Too bad we can’t all be like Felix Bush and have the opportunity to share our secrets and hear what others really have to say about us before we die.
I think that is what ended up happening in this morning’s story from John’s gospel.
Jesus and some of his disciples were invited to dinner at Lazarus’s home.
Lazarus, and his sisters Mary and Martha were good friends.
Maybe they wanted to thank Jesus for bringing Lazarus back from the dead a few weeks earlier.
Or maybe they just wanted to offer Jesus a safe place to relax and rest up before the Passover.
Whatever the original intent of the invitation, Jesus came to dinner.
By this point in Jesus life and ministry
we can be fairly certain that there will be nothing “normal” about this gathering.
The company at the table is far from normal.
One man was dead just a week ago.
Another will turn Jesus over to the authorities in a few days.
The only thing normal is that Martha is cooking and Mary is absent.
Now there is no real indication that anyone at the table
is talking about what they all sense is coming.
Jesus is going to Jerusalem for the Passover.
He is being sought by the authorities.
Chances were good he would be arrested.
He himself had even warned them that he was going to die.
This was the opportunity for that pre-death funeral party.
This was the time to say anything that still needed to be said.
This was the time to reach some closure.
But it doesn’t look as though anyone is doing that.
Why spoil a nice evening with such depressing talk?
Let’s not take away the hope that everything will turn out alright.
Let’s avoid an unpleasant topic. So they just ate dinner.
Mary was in the other room. She had a different agenda for the evening.
She wanted to say something to Jesus.
She seemed to know that this was the time
to say everything she had been holding inside.
What did she want to tell him?
You know her sister Martha was a bit of a complainer.
Another time when Jesus came to dinner she complained that Mary wasn’t helping.
Then when Jesus came after Lazarus died she complained that he had not arrived earlier so he could save her brother.
Did Mary have anything to complain about?
Well, she didn’t have the greatest relationship with her sister.
She wasn’t allowed to be a disciple like the guys were.
She wasn’t allowed to go to synagogue like the men.
She evidentially had no husband since she still lived with her brother.
Now her dear friend Jesus was going to be taken from her
and on top of all that they would undoubtedly expect her to help prepare the body for burial.
I guess she could complain.
She could try to get one last miracle out of Jesus before he left.
But instead of complaining about her life.
Instead of asking Jesus to give her something or do something for her
she takes a pound of perfume made of pure nard,
anoints Jesus’ feet, and wipes them with her hair.
The house is filled with the sweet fragrance.
Everyone is stunned by her display, by her sensuality, by her extravagance.
Mary’s offering to Jesus was the equivalent of a year’s wages.
She offers her testimonial — a lavish expression of gratitude.
When Mary breaks open her alabaster jar, and pours its costly contents over the bare feet of her Lord, everyone understands what she is saying.
The room falls silent, in awe, at the sheer drama of Mary’s opulent gift.
Judas misses the point.
Some things just can’t be reduced to the “bottom line” of a balance sheet.
Some things are not about money. They are about love.
Some things are not even about things. They are about people.
It is like the mother who asked her little daughter what she was praying for.
She responded, "I wasn't praying for anything, I was just loving God."
We may think this kind of devotion is only for the little ones or the saints.
But Jesus liked it!
Mary did more than she knew.
Anointing Jesus was a gesture of personal devotion; but it was also a prophetic act:
"When she poured this perfume on my body, she prepared me for my burial."
Jesus wasn't just a wandering sage or renegade rabbi; he's the Anointed One.
Anointed by Mary, yes, but especially anointed by God.
"She did what she could," said Jesus.
And that's what we do in our discipleship and devotion.
We do what we can. Mary's anointing didn't save Jesus from his tragic fate.
Nor will our faith and devotion solve our every problem. But with Mary we do what we can.
We give our old selves to God without restraint,
we pour out for him all that we have and all that we are.
In return, we trust God for a new self shaped by the power of his unlimited love.
The power to turn our sorrow into dancing, our tears into joy.
The power to do a new thing even in the midst of death.
It is to smell the power of new life in the fragrances of death,
to hear the power of gratitude in gurgle of the oil,
to feel the deep devoted power of love in a gentle touch of hand and wipe of hair.
The power of God.
The power of gratitude.
The power of love.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.