April 3, 2022 Lent 5
First Lesson: Isaiah 43:16-21
16 Thus says the Lord,
who makes a way in the sea,
a path in the mighty waters,
17 who brings out chariot and horse,
army and warrior;
they lie down, they cannot rise,
they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
18 Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
19 I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
20 The wild animals will honor me,
the jackals and the ostriches;
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21 the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.
Second Lesson: 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. 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.”
Three gospels tell the story of Jesus’ anointing. In Matthew and Mark Jesus calls it a “beautiful thing” when an unnamed woman anoints his head. The disciples take issue with the money, instead of Judas, and Jesus has prophesied his death. But John weaves the story differently, intimately. Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Jesus are all dear friends. Jesus loved these siblings (11:5). So his anointing is personal, vulnerable, and it takes place right after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. Death lingers in the air. Listen now for God’s word to you John 12:1-8.
This text is not about the poor, it is not about the money spent, it is about love, vulnerability, and life and death. Life is fragile. Even Jesus’ life will come to an end. Anticipating that, Mary lovingly anoints his feet with fragrant oil and tenderly wipes his feet with her hair, so intimate. Remember Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and learned from him while Martha got upset because she was left to serve on her own (Lk 10:38). Martha also ran out to meet Jesus after Lazarus died believing Jesus could raise him. Jesus then declares “I am the resurrection and the life, those who believe in me, even though they die, will live (Jn 11:25). Life and death. The very fact that Lazarus is at table when Mary anoints Jesus, reminds us of this connection.
These four people, Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Jesus are very close. They have forged a relationship over time, and they love and trust each other. I believe that is why John frames the story in this way. We can only really get to those hard conversations about death with those we know and love. Because it demands we risk and be vulnerable and doing that with a stranger just doesn’t feel safe.
I hope you all received the packet of information I recently sent via email with resources for making end of life decisions. Planning your memorial, writing your eulogy, making your wishes known. I hope they will offer you some assistance in having some of those hard conversations we don’t want to have with the people in our lives, the ones we know and love. Or at least, you are writing down your desires so that your loved ones will have it. I invite you to call and make an appointment so we can go over your wishes and I will keep some information to have for when the time comes. If you are feeling uncomfortable right now, you are not alone. These are hard conversations to have. Yet Lent is a season to reflect on death—the death of our Lord’s -the crucified one and our own inevitable deaths. My hope is that like these four connected people we can have these hard conversations within a safe and trusting relationship.
Mary did an extravagant thing. She anointed her Lord with a fragrant perfume. She gently wiped his feet with her hair. Jesus had just raised her brother, and somehow her loving and caring action prepared the way for Jesus’ burial. Maybe it was because she recently grieved her brother that she was sensitive to Jesus’ need. She knew how life can be taken in an instant. So she made the most of that moment, when Jesus was in her home, seated at table alongside her brother Lazarus.
Life and Death and the fragility that dwells between. We have fragile bodies, fragile minds and fragile emotions all trying to hold us together as we walk this path of life. Yet we still find it hard to admit our fragility, the way our body starts to fail us. We may have a love hate relationship with our body. We want less pain and more time. We want fewer limitations and more health. We avoid the reality of our own mortality. Let us find comfort in that Jesus faced death too. Jesus knows the aches and pains of life. Jesus was trying to help the disciples understand his fragile and short life when he said, “You will not always have me.” We will not always have Jesus in bodily form, the same way you will not always have … Your beloved person. And they will not always have you. It is so hard when we are faced with that thought. Marcia McFee writes, “The sense of the fragility of life is never more present than when death is called to mind. Having experienced a pandemic in which now everyone knows someone whose life was cut short by the virus, most of us have found ourselves saying, ‘I’ve been really rethinking what is important, how I spend my time, what I want to spend my precious time and energy on.’ I find it poignant that this scene where Jesus reminds his disciples of the precious time we have with one another, takes place in the house of Lazarus, whose return to life must still feel dramatically fresh. Death is in the air as Jesus reminds them that he, too, will die. But it is shared in the context of the promise of new life. Can we dare vulnerability in our worshiping communities, sharing what really matters with one another in the very house where resurrection is what we proclaim?” (Marcia McFee)
I believe we can. We can be the people who embrace the hard conversation because we know the love of God even in our difficult moments. A cross-stitch hangs in my home office from the Brief Statement of Faith, “In life and death we belong to God. We rejoice that nothing in life or in death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” We live in the hope of the resurrection! God will welcome us home and grant us eternal life!
Isaiah speaks of God doing a new thing. A new thing that springs forth and he wonders if we can perceive it? Being resurrected in Christ is certainly a new thing! It is the climax of our faith and the hope of our lives. Yet God being born in a body is also a new thing. The incarnation is an amazingly wonderful thing that helps us own our fragility. Helps us accept our own body, the one God created just for us. Kate Bowler writes, “God went to great, even incarnational, lengths to be born as a tiny infant. If God too lived in a body, then God knows the ache of growing pains and the feeling of goosebumps on a brisk day and the comfort of a warm embrace…He wept over the death of a friend. Ours is a God who knew longing, heartbreak, excitement, frustration- the full range of what it means to be human” (Good Enough, p. 157).
God knows all of that, Jesus knows what it means to treasure a life and then let it go. Jesus knows the grief of losing a loved one, he wept over Lazarus. May we lean into the incarnational reality, the humanness of our God, as we strive to be at peace with the fragility of our bodies and life. Marcia McFee writes, “Fragility is not only OK, it is also necessary. To know and respect our own limited nature, our vulnerability to the forces of life, we are able to see and be with those who are hurting. We enter our prayers for all who suffer in mind, body, and spirit–vowing to tend with care to those for whom deaths, of many kinds, seem near” (Marcia McFee).
One commentator writes, “Lent is a time to remember death and the fragility of life. To die is part of what it means to be human. But death will not have the final word. Lazarus is a reminder of that promise, even though his human body will die again. The (fragrant) oil is a reminder of that promise. The people who gathered for another meal are a reminder of that promise. The prepared, anointed body of Jesus, of course, is the ultimate reminder of that promise. Death will not have the final word. During the season of Lent, we remember that death will not have the final word” (Working Preacher, Emerson Powery).
With that confidence, we come to Christ’s table and admit our own fragility. We see our small deaths, our sins and we come knowing that God has already wiped those away and covered us with blessing and grace. We practice the small deaths of life so that when our time comes, we can fully receive the abundant and eternal life Christ death and resurrection creates. Amen.
