Fifth Sunday of Lent,
March 13, 2016
I imagine the beloved disciple, pen
in hand, eyesight failing, joints aching, and bones tired. He’s hunched, wizened, wrinkled. How has he lived this long? Easterly winds send a breeze. His wild hair flows as he gazes at the ships
that sail from the Aegean Sea into the Ephesus port.
The writer of the Gospel of John never says,
“This was written by John.” Others have
come to that conclusion. He does the
Gospel was written by “the disciple Jesus loved.” He also clearly says he was an
eyewitness. The Gospel of John comes
from his memory.
He arranges the story, not chronologically,
but in order to help the reader come to faith in Jesus. Everything in this account is meant to guide
you and me to believe and have life in Jesus’ name. This includes what he tells us about Mary the
sister of Lazarus and the disciple Judas Iscariot.
The Beloved Disciple remembers the
high priest, Caiaphas, was persuasive when he convinced other priests and
Pharisees that Jesus’ claims were so revolutionary, he had to be killed for the
good of the nation.
The beloved disciple sets the
scene. Caiaphas plots the undoing of
Jesus at a council meeting, while in Bethany, just outside Jerusalem, Jesus is
another kind of meeting, a dinner meeting in the home of Lazarus. This is the same man who had been dead, 4
days in the tomb dead. Jesus brought him
back to life.
Lazarus has a dinner party for Jesus
and the 12 disciples. There are others
around them including his sisters Martha and Mary. The beloved disciple remembers all of
this.
Martha was serving. Those who reclined at the table eating were
the men, Jesus, Lazarus the host, and the 12 disciples. Mary enters and dumps a pound of expensive
perfume on the feet of Jesus. Social
conventions dictated that she help Martha in the kitchen.
But we’ve read the gospels. We remember Luke 10 where Martha dutifully served,
but Mary sat among the men because to her Jesus’ teaching was worth whatever
scorn she would receive for sitting among the men. Jesus commended her decision. She has chosen “the better part,” he said,
and it will not be taken from her.
In the previous section of the Gospel, John
11, Lazarus dies, and both Martha and Mary are upset with Jesus. When he finally comes, Martha confronts him
with a theological argument. Jesus responds
in kind. Mary says the same words as
Martha, but where Martha spoke out of her head knowledge, Mary spoke the same
words through tears. Jesus wept with
her.
Now, the beloved disciple tells this story
and once again Martha with apron on serves a meal fit for a king. Mary is off somewhere and when she comes in
it is to dump a year’s worth of income spilled out onto the feet of Jesus. The Beloved disciples remembers this.
I don’t remember smells. However, when a powerful smell associated
with an event from my past hits my nose, it takes me back there. I cannot imagine the smell from my
grandmother’s house. But if I smelled it
right now, I would feel great joy and sadness.
The joy would come from the memory evoked by the smell, all the laughter
and love in that house. The sadness
would be because I can smell the smell, but cannot go there. I cannot see her, not now, not yet.
The beloved disciple remembers that the house
was filled with the fragrance of that perfume Mary poured on Jesus. His memory associates her with absolute
adoration of Jesus and with beautiful smells that fill the house.
He remembered Judas too, but it was a very
different memory. When he writes Judas’
name, he includes a parenthetical note.
Judas was about to betray Jesus.
The beloved disciple didn’t know it at the time. Peter didn’t know it then. Neither did Mary or Martha. But looking back, they remember Judas as the
betrayer. The beloved disciple tells us
Judas was the group’s treasurer and used to steal from the common fund. We see in Luke 8 that a group of affluent
women provided for Jesus and the disciples’ material needs. Judas pocketed some of the money those women
gave and he was able to do so because he was given the responsibility of
managing their funds.
On that breezy Ephesian shore as he writes
his gospel, the beloved disciple remembers Judas and Mary. One, in his memory, is a betraying
thief. The other worships so
extravagantly the entire house is blessed by the aroma.
How are we remembered? Sixty years from now, someone from here will
write the story of HillSong Church as a community that gave witness to the
Kingdom of God in Chapel Hill in the opening decades of the 21st
century. When that person remembers your
part in the community, what will she remember?
What words will she associate with your life as a disciple of Jesus?
Judas and Mary are complex people. All people are. Judas was far more than a
thief and a betrayer. The other gospels
record Jesus filling all 12 with the Holy Spirit so that they had the power to
work miracles and defeat demons. He gave
the power to Judas.
And Mary made her mistakes. The same qualities that allowed her to weep
empathetically, to present her heart before the Lord, and to worship
extravagantly also had a dark side. She
left a lot of the hard, banal work to Martha.
Yes, Jesus commended her for listening to his teaching and we should
too. But Martha’s efforts in the kitchen
were needed by the community. Sometimes
dreamers like Mary need to take their turn washing the dishes.
Judas had his good qualities. Mary had her faults. When the beloved disciple remembered her, he
remembered joy in Jesus and wonderful smells.
When he remembered Judas, he remembered treachery.
He also remembered the way each of them
elicited a response from Jesus. Judas
saw Mary dump the perfume and he snapped at her. Something in him was missing. He couldn’t appreciate her beautiful
generosity. And even though he was under
the covering of Jesus’ grace, somehow, he couldn’t be in the sphere of
grace. Somehow, even when he was in
grace, he wasn’t in it.
While she worshipped big and bold, he did
math. Was he truly concerned about money
that could go to the poor or money that would go in his pocket? Maybe both.
What the beloved disciple remembers is Jesus was quiet, until Judas
snapped at Mary. Then, Jesus sharply
chided him. “Leave her alone,” Jesus
said. How embarrassed was Judas at that
point? He tried to be logical but missed
the outpouring of love and grace, and Jesus slapped him down.
The beloved disciple tells us what Jesus said
next. “She is honoring me before my
burial.” He remembers that Judas
elicited a rebuke from Jesus. Jesus
responded to Mary by commending her for what she did.
How will we be remembered, you and me? And how does the Lord receive what we
give? There is a place for strategic
thinking, like that of Judas.
Economists, finance people, logical thinkers, and strategists all have
something to offer to the church and to the Lord in the work of helping the
poor.
But that offering does not take the place of
fully committed worship. When she broke
that jug of perfume and it began pouring, that was full commitment, but she did
not hesitate a moment because she was driven by love for Jesus.
The phrase that has been most repeated out of
this remembrance the beloved disciple shares is Jesus’ statement in verse
8. “You will always have the poor with
you, but you do not always have me.”
Christians have used this as an excuse to not give money to help the
poor. The ones using that excuse are not
like Mary, using ridiculous amounts of money to worship God extravagantly. They use Jesus words, but then do what
Judas. They keep their money in their
own pockets. They do not practice the
generosity Jesus commended.
Or, others quote John 12:8 to explain why
they give a little to compassion ministries, but not a lot. Or others quote John 12:8 to explain why,
even though they’ve given money and worked to eradicate debilitating poverty,
the efforts have failed. No matter how
hard we work, they’ll say, we’ll never end poverty because Jesus said … .
The beloved disciples wasn’t making a
statement about what policies Christian should adopt in social justice
ministries. He was remembering. He remembered beautiful smells and
unrestrained worship from Mary, and he remembered that Jesus was grateful. He remembered dishonesty and betrayal and
hypocrisy from Judas, and Jesus was angry.
We know followers of Jesus are called to help
people and helping people includes fighting against injustice, disease, hunger,
inadequate housing, unfair practices in business and the justice system, and
poverty. We know that we are to fight
these things because we follow Jesus.
We’ve read Luke’s gospel. We know
this. We’ve read James. And the prophet Amos. And Isaiah.
And the book of Deuteronomy. And
the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew.
Well, all of Matthew’s Gospel.
And Galatians 6. And … well, you
get the picture. Followers of Jesus help
people and give generously. That’s not
in question.
In the memories of the beloved disciple, it
is clear to me that what we do and how we do it is completely related to how we
stand in relationship to Jesus. Do we
worship with abandon or restraint? Are
we driven by our love for him and what we can give to him, or by more
self-serving desires?
How we answer these questions is
irrelevant. People don’t remember what
we say. They remember what we do. When we do give to the poor and help people
are we acting out of our love for Jesus and in response to his call? What memories will people have of our
actions, taken today? What do those
actions say about how we feel about Jesus and about who we are in relation to
Him?
Mary was a follower. She followed Jesus. She worshiped him. She loved him. She obeyed him. She didn’t do it all perfectly, no one
does. But her heart was driven by
passion for God and she knew Jesus was the one to bring her to God.
Do we?
Are we free enough to pour ourselves out
before God? Or is something preventing
us from coming to the Lord in unrestrained, free, fully committed, ridiculously
God-indulgent worship?
My guess is, most of us have something that
blocks us from truly free expression of our love for God. Contemplate that. Are you able to pour yourself out before
him?
AMEN
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