Fifth Sunday in Lent

March 25, 2007

Sermon by Pastor John Marboe

The Holy Gospel according to St. John. (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.

The Gospel of the Lord.

My Aunt Alice has a favorite saying. If she really, really likes somebody, she really adores somebody, she will say, “I love her to death.” “I love him to death.” “I love them to death.” What does it mean, do you suppose? “I love them to death.” Could it be a promise, as in the wedding vows where we say that we will love one another until death happens? Or could it be a measurement? “I love this person so much that I would die for them.” Or maybe there is just a hint of irony in it. The people that we love the most are often the hardest on us.

A pastor friend of mine was doing a funeral out in southern California. The husband had died and he was cremated, and his wishes were to have his ashes scattered at sea, so they had a little ceremony on a boat. The widow was holding the urn—and she was wearing a lovely chiffon dress—and at the appropriate time she poured out the ashes over the side. Just then a sudden gust of wind came and blew the ashes all over her. And she was heard to mumble under her breath, “Oh, that’s just like you.”

Well, maybe “I love you do death” has a hint of all of these meanings. But at least we know this, that love and death are closely related, aren’t they? In the Book of Ecclesiastes, there is the scripture that speaks of a love that is stronger than death.

Our Gospel story today occurs just days before Jesus’ own death. And there they are, gathered at the house of Jesus’ very close friends in Bethany, as they had gathered many times before. The disciples are there; Lazarus is there, Jesus’ close friend, whom he raised from the dead about a year earlier; Martha is there, and Mary—brother and sisters. Mary approaches Jesus in a very unusual manner.

Now, Mary and Jesus have a very special connection. Remember that in another story Jesus is at their house, and Mary sits at Jesus’ feet, listening to his teaching, while Martha is scurrying around, getting the food ready, preparing the house, working, busy, getting frustrated with her sister, who is just sitting there and not helping. She asked Jesus to tell her sister to help her, and Jesus says, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and anxious about many things. One thing is necessary, and Mary has chosen the better portion.” This is that Mary.

Remember when Lazarus had died. The sisters sent for Jesus. Jesus came to them, and when he came upon Mary, who was weeping so disconsolately, it says that Jesus was moved deeply in spirit. It was then that he went into the tomb and raised Lazarus from the dead. Jesus obviously thought very highly of Mary, and vice versa.

This time Mary approaches, and she gets down on her knees before Jesus’ feet. She takes a bottle of perfumed oil called nard—something that was used in the burial ritual—and she breaks it open. The room, it says, is just filled with this fabulous aroma. And I would hope so because that perfume was worth about $25,000 in today’s money. Three hundred denarii, it says, is about a year’s wages for a worker in that time, so let’s say 25 grand. She breaks it open and begins to rub it into his feet, massaging his feet with this very expensive ointment. Then it says she takes her hair and begins to rub it in with her hair.

How many of you have ever had a foot massage? Can I see a show of hands? How many of you liked it? Okay. How many of you have ever had a pedicure? How many men have had a pedicure? How many of you won’t admit it?

My wife Andrea had her first pedicure before our wedding with her bridesmaids. They went to a spa, sat in their chairs and they sipped champagne. Right next to Andrea was a very large gentleman, who had been there all day for the whole spa- massage thing, and there, with his great-big gnarly feet, he was having a pedicure. She looked at him and said, “Boy, you look familiar.” He said, “My name is Bob Lurtsema.” It was Benchwarmer Bob, with the biggest feet she had ever seen. He proceeded to tell her he loves getting pedicures. So, gentlemen, if you wanted a story to justify your wish for a pedicure, you’ve got it.

Obviously something a bit different was going on between Jesus and Mary than what we might call a foot massage or a pedicure. But there is something universal about that loving attention given to feet from another person, our poor, smelly, sore, not so pretty, feet. It feels extravagant. And it was extravagant, especially considering the expense of the perfume that was used.

Now, Judas, it says, was appalled. He says, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?” In other words, “What a waste!” Now, the Gospel writer lets us know that Judas was a thief and a liar and had no good intention in him when he said that. But we don’t really know what was in Judas’s mind. Let’s cut him a little slack. Let’s say he meant it. The point Judas made was that it seemed like an inappropriate extravagance. Jesus says to Judas, “Leave her alone. She is doing it for my burial. The meaning of her act can’t really be understood until I’m dead and gone.” There it is again: the connection of love and death.

What shall we take from this tale? I suggest this: The value of acts of love is best understood from the point of view of death. The value of acts of love is best understood from the point of view of death. Pay attention to what people say at funerals, for in that is a clue to what is really valuable in life. Listen to what people don’t say about others. They don’t say, “You know, what I really value about her is that she achieved a net worth of several million dollars.” They don’t say that. They don’t say, “You know, what I really admire about him was how productive he was, how organized, how smart, how together, how efficient, and how useful.” People don’t say things like that. No. People recall acts of love, that’s what people remember. It’s amazing how many stories there are told at funerals about food. “She made the most wonderful cheesecake.” “When we would go to the cabin, he would make blueberry pancakes in the morning, for us.” “There was always a cookie jar and it was always full, for us.” If people provided food, it’s remembered. “He used to take me to ballgames. He would spend the whole day. It was an adventure.” “She made me these sweaters. Every year, she made me a new sweater.” “We used to take vacations together. Those were so fun.” “We spent a lot of time together.” “She told us stories, and we created our own stories.” “She put me through school.” “He helped me buy my house,” or “build my house.” In the end, it’s our acts of love that matter, that remain.

So let’s observe about this story that Mary’s love for Jesus, done in light of his impending death, was physical. Love needs to be embodied to be real. We are not remembered for what we felt; we’re remembered for what we did. And, secondly, no act of love, no matter how extravagant, seems too extravagant after the person is gone. People never lament how much, only how little, they showed love in the end.

Jesus valued the giving and receiving of extravagant love. He receives it here from Mary. But a few days later, he is going to give it by washing his own disciples’ feet. But, above all, he shows it by giving up his life for others, which I suppose is the ultimate meaning of “I love you to death.”

Amen.