Sermon for April 6, 2024
Lent 5 C
John 12:1-8; Philippians 3:4b-14
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
There’s a song I like called “Waste”—it’s not well known by many people, but it’s by the rock band Phish. In the lyrics, the singer describes the achievements of various occupations, and how, if he were in their place, he’d want to cast those achievements aside. For example, the lyrics start with: “Don’t want to be an actor, pretending on the stage; don’t want to be a writer with my thoughts out on the page; don’t want to be a painter ‘cause everyone comes to look; don’t want to be anything where my life’s an open book…” But why? Why would he want to give up the achievements that people in those professions would aspire to, or even define themselves by? He reveals a simple reason: so “I could be wasting my time with you”. And finally, in the last line of the song he offers an invitation: “Come waste your time with me.” [https://phish.net/song/waste/history]
His invitation reveals the irony at the heart of the song—“wasting time” with someone you love is actually not a waste but is the most valuable thing of all. Our scripture readings today highlight some notable disciples of Jesus who, by their words or actions, also found that “wasting” their time, “wasting” their resources, “wasting” their efforts for the sake of Jesus actually turned out to be not a waste but the most valuable thing of all.
First is Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. Mary offers a lavish gift as part of an extravagant gesture. She took a pound of perfume—an amount and quality that would have cost a whole years’ worth of wages—and used it to anoint Jesus’ feet. Anointing was a highly symbolic act, and was used for burials where the fragrance of the perfume covered up the smell of death, and for the coronation of royalty. But Mary can’t even complete her loving gesture before her “waste” of such an expensive gift is criticized—by none other than Judas Iscariot, who would soon betray Jesus. Judas declares that the perfume should have been sold and the money given to the poor. On the surface Judas makes a point that any of us might have made—how many poor people could we help for the amount this perfume cost? He’s being sensible. But he’s not being honest. The gospel writer lets us know that “he said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and used to steal from the common purse the disciples contributed to.”
Meanwhile, Mary continues her extravagant gesture because she’s using a different calculus. By her actions she’s saying that whenever I give my all to Jesus, he never lets any of it go to waste. What Mary gives him is of far greater value than even a years’ worth of wages—she gives her heart and soul, and holds nothing back, even wiping Jesus’ feet with her own hair after anointing him.
As she does this, she risks more than her money and possessions, but she even risks scandal—because a woman in those days was not supposed to let down her hair in polite company. But she does it all because of her love for Jesus—and she even foreshadows the New Commandment that Jesus will soon give his disciples on Maundy Thursday as he washes their feet: “Love one another, just as I have loved you.” We see how Mary fulfills this new commandment before Jesus even teaches it.
And Jesus appreciates what Mary is doing for him, because she is preparing him for all that is to come as he goes to the cross. She anoints him for burial, because he will be crucified and sealed in the tomb. And she anoints him as king, because on the cross his persecutors will write the charge against him—the reason they crucify him: he is Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. But his kingdom is an upside-down kingdom; “upside-down” from the ways of the world. As King of the Jews he does not ask his followers to die for his sake—instead he willingly dies for our sake. And his anointing as king comes not by the traditional way at the hands of a priest in the Temple—but by a woman in her own humble home in Bethany (a word, by the way, that means “House of the Poor”). And she anoints him, not on his head as a normal king would be, but on his feet—that part of him closest to the ground, closest to the dust from which we came and to which we will return, closest to humility and service.
Mary’s “waste” of her very expensive perfume teaches us the true value of Jesus’ way of love and humble service; and the true value of Jesus’ free gift of our forgiveness and salvation, given when he was lifted up on the cross, and which we receive through faith.
When Judas tries to interrupt her extravagant “waste” of valuable perfume, Jesus responds: “Leave her alone. She bought it so she might keep it for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” It seems a bit premature for him to say this is the “day of his burial” when it’s still a week away at this point in the story—but Jesus is acknowledging that he’s already as good as dead; he knows his crucifixion is coming. And Mary knows before any of the other disciples, that the One who raised her brother Lazarus from his tomb, also cannot be held by the tomb.
It also seems a bit fatalistic for Jesus to tell them all, “you will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me”—especially when Jesus defined his mission as “bringing good news to the poor”. But he seems to be alluding to a verse from Deuteronomy 15:11—“Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land’”. Mary’s “wasteful” anointing is a witness that following Jesus is not a choice between either worshiping him or caring for the poor; following Jesus is a calling to both worship him and care for the poor.
And one of those poor turned out to be Saint Paul himself. He’s writing to his beloved church in Philippi to encourage them. They are so discouraged because their beloved apostle Paul, who introduced them to Jesus, has been thrown in prison and had everything taken away from him. Yet even though his efforts at sharing the gospel of Jesus resulted in his being persecuted, he is still filled with joy! How can this be? I mean, his “old life” was one to aspire to. As Paul describes it, he had inherited many privileges and also worked hard to attain many achievements. But as he sat in prison he came to realize that whatever greatness he had achieved or inherited did not define his value as a person. He could renounce all his earthly gains—he could even have them all stripped away—and then, in having nothing, he would still have value beyond measure “because Christ Jesus has made me his own”.
To the outside observer, it looked like Paul was “wasting” his life. But like Mary before him, Paul discovered that by extravagantly giving Jesus everything he’s got—heart and soul—he found something even better, something that he could not inherit or achieve by his own efforts. It could only be given to him as a free gift of grace: “the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
The exact same gift of grace that Jesus gave to Paul and to Mary was also given to each of us when we were baptized into Christ’s death. In baptism we are joined to the most important death of all—Christ’s death on the cross—so that like him, God will raise us up to new resurrected life.
And like Mary and Paul, we too have been set free by faith in Jesus to “waste” our lives in love, joy, faith, and devotion—and in the “wasting” find what is most valuable of all. Amen.