The Fifth Sunday of Lent, March 21st, 2010

The Rev. Dr. Katharine C. Black
Isaiah 43: 16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3: 4b-14
John 12: 1-8

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. AMEN.

As we press on through Lent toward the goal of the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus, a call we will know as new, at Easter, we hear the familiar story of Mary and Jesus, but in John's less familiar, but more theological, narrative.

The setting is the home of Lazarus and his two sisters Mary and Martha. Lazarus had been raised from the dead, having been in his tomb for 4 days. His sisters, who'd listened to Jesus' teaching had pleaded with Jesus and then blamed him for not coming soon enough to rescue their brother. Jesus had demonstrated God's power even over death, when he'd raised Lazarus, making Jesus a more than welcome guest. This family was giving a dinner for Jesus, presumably of thanksgiving and celebration. Again Martha did the work of serving, and probably more of the house holding, while Lazarus was host.

Mary, who'd listened attentively to Jesus when he'd been teaching in this Bethany home before, suddenly does something startling, so startling it's been commented on for nearly 2000 years.  She took a pound of costly perfume, made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet and wiped them with her hair. We've heard this story annually, but consider it again. First, women in antiquity (and really until women began working with dangerous machines) had long hair, protected from view, by veils, wrapping, or hiding it under layers of clothing. Women's hair was so private, that in one classical Greek play, it's a matter of comment when a woman leaves the house, taking down her hair. Of course, that was the reverse of custom. Women's hair was protected in public. This would suggest that hair was part of a woman's intimate attractiveness, and so saved for home and family, or if indoors for other women and spouse alone. While Jesus was a close friend, this act was a hint of real intimacy between them, but not one developed elsewhere.

Perhaps not sensual intimacy, but I think in John's Gospel one can make a case for real closeness. Mary understood what Jesus had been saying about the kingdom of heaven being near, even in his actual presence. She understood that beyond the content of his teaching, he also meant these statements literally. She understood who he was, and what his going in to Jerusalem would lead to. Jerusalem had long been described as killing prophets, and she knew Jesus to be a prophet at least. If he were a genuine prophet, Jerusalem would come down on him quickly. Bethany was and is only a short way outside the city, so he was nearly there. She was announcing that she both understood and also was preparing him for whatever was to come: royal welcome or immanent death.

Let's imagine and see her action with our mind's eyes. Let's see a woman with long hair. She flings a pound of perfume. We all know now what a three-ounce container looks like and this would have been more than five times that. It's a hugeness of perfume. I looked at my largest perfume bottle, and 8 ounces is really big. This was a big soda's worth. Think of the smell, and then the fragrance. The whole house would have been assaulted by the dramatic release of the perfume. Mary rescued much of it by blotting her hair into it to catch the poured out liquid. Her hair must have been long to do that. Then she waved her damp fragrant hair back and forth over his feet to dry and anoint them. If sensuous means of the senses, and sensual has a more sexual and intimate use, this description certainly approaches the sensual, but is at least demonstrably sensuous. Please note this is not Mary Magdalene, but Mary, studious sister of Martha. Did the hair tickle his feet? Can you hear the plaintive love song from Godspell: "I don't know how to love him..." She must have looked at his hard-used, scarred, sore feet, and wondered where they'd been and where they were leading. She wouldn't have seen the nail holes to come, but we do.  Whatever else had been happening in that house must have stopped. People first would have held their noses from the overpowering smell. They would have been appalled at Mary's physical, public, and expensive action, and distressed that Jesus permitted her to continue, and, I'll bet, were snippy that he would have enjoyed every single aspect of this washing of his feet.

Let's remember that it is John's Gospel that sets the terms of the incarnation: "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." John is clear that if this is God, Jesus was surely flesh and blood, sore feet and all. Especially before Jesus goes up to Jerusalem, especially before the mystery of the aftermath of the crucifixion, especially before the disappearance of Jesus in this narrative, John wanted all hearers to know that Jesus was fully human, and knew and enjoyed that reality. If the cross pained Jesus, then this action must have pleasured him, or he wasn't real. (I'm assuming his feet weren't hyper ticklish.) The idea that somehow it's holier to be beyond sensuous responses, feelings, realities, or nature is simply hogwash. Christian theology understands that the humanity of Jesus was so real, that it deifies our human nature. Everything wonderful about being human-and what more luxuriantly sensuous than Mary's foot washing-which includes all senses and all fleshy, carnal joys are alluded to and honored in this scene.

Judas, here portrayed more mean-spiritedly and dishonestly than in other Gospels, complains. His plea that her action is a waste of money is echoed in Christian tradition after tradition that decries incense, perfume, and by extension a host of God's lovely gifts and those to whom God has given imaginations of ways to please humans as we all slog through daily tasks, sadnesses, and disappointments. Churchy objections have been made against pretty jewelry, fine fabrics-silks, velvets and other tactile-y pleasing materials-and more. The church eventually approved of all of those wondrous delights for the use by the Church for its own mission. St. Francis, himself, was adamantly clear that it was good to have wonderful things for the use of the church, gold and silver, because it was a way to honor, thank, and praise God.

However, there's always been suspicion that pretty things, to simplify the category, were more extravagant and therefore more unworthy than homespun ugliness. Jesus was clear that the poor we'll always have with us, and so while we must always, in all times and all ways, work for the relief of the poor and the alleviation of their distress, loveliness is still lovely and to be enjoyed. Jesus was proclaiming the glories of such pleasures in allowing Mary this action. Would Mary's action have been holier if she'd used harsh yellow soap? Would it have been a worthier concert for the Sisters' work in Haiti if the music had been ugly, out of tune, or dreary?

God's prodigal extravagance wants everyone to have a feast's worth of meals, a fragrance of foot massages, and a glory of music-and did you know that not only did the concert raise at least $2200, but every musician donated not only his/her performance freely, but made a donation to the Sisters?

John explains that Judas was only fussing about Mary's expensive gift, because he'd stolen some of their money, and needed the sale of the perfume to balance that out. Jesus silences Judas, "Leave her alone..." The Church has been more silent and less clear and generous than Jesus with the goodness of people, their flesh and sensuous enjoyments. The incarnation affirms and asserts the goodness of all of God's creation, not merely the shadow of people, or their shades, souls, minds, or thoughts.

One way to reach our own life's end is to live fully and joyfully. Mary is offering Jesus what she can, while understanding that he has places to go that she may not keep him from. What delight would you want if you knew you had a week or so to live? Would you go somewhere? Eat something delicious? Look at beautiful art? Listen to wonderful music? Why wait? As long as we're doing what we can, to make our world a better place, using our resources to that end as much as we can, and a little more, and a little more than that, God wants us to note the wonders of creation. It continues to make beauty, and so we're to celebrate and enjoy it in a variety of wondrous forms. It's why we have real bodies, and why God lived in a real human life. This was not a denial of the Holy Spirit or Creator, but rather showed that God had made humans, and they're good. Jesus understood and redeemed all human life in experiencing, enjoying, and living it to the fullest.

At this church, though, we're pretty squeamish about foot washing on Maundy Thursday. While the food at this altar is a preview and symbol of the heavenly feast, Jesus had just described a better feast given by the Prodigal Parent for his newly found son. Later before Jesus' crucifixion he ate a simple meal with his friends. The simple meal was not the one awaited as the heavenly feast, but only a foretaste of the Real Feast in heaven, but with the full picture of a real feast given by the loving parent for the child safe at home.  When Jesus washed his friends' feet, the action was a symbol of two things. Of course, he was showing his belief that the reign of God was about serving one another. He also understood, though, that when Mary had perfumed, stroked, comforted his feet with her hair, that the two of them were, in like way to the described feast and the symbolic simple meal, demonstrating their belief in the everlasting delights and comforts of eternal life. He had to be thinking about Mary's more enjoyable foot washing as he did what he could with the little he had in that upper room. She had shown him a better preview of what was really to come, and he wanted to remember that, and to offer a hint of that conviction. She offered as wonderful a preview of heavenly life, as the Prodigal parent had made of the heavenly banquet. We catch that vision even in the simplicity of this feast, but we don't feel the comparable promise in foot washing. We are to feel and know in our senses the delights to Heaven to come. As Charles Gore once said, "I have always thought that the only very difficult dogma of the church was the dogma that God is love." Not only does God show that, but wants us to know that that love is enjoyable, rich, tactile, perfumed, luxurious, generous, extravagant, and for all. Our job is to identify those gifts, give thanks for them, and see that as many of God's people get to share as many of them as we can help be flung around.  We push back God's delights, but they keep being offered and given. A heavenly banquet and a warmth of eternal life are shown and promised for all. The Lord has done great things for us, and we are glad indeed. Good News.

© Katharine C. Black, 21 March 2010