That Smell

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages….” [John 12:4-5].

As we move toward the Gospel reading for this upcoming Sunday, John 12:1-8 [the Fifth Sunday in Lent, RCL, Year C], we take note that Death is in the air. It has been perhaps a week or so—the Gospel writer gives no specific time frame—since Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead [see John 11:44]. John, the Gospel writer, makes it clear: the raising of the dead man, Lazarus, was one sign too many for the Pharisees. They are angry and not a little afraid since many many Jews in and around Bethany were present to see Lazarus’ reappearance from his tomb four days after his death. Seeing is believing, and so now, many have now come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah. Because of Lazarus, Jesus must die.

For a few days after the Lazarus affair, Jesus and the disciples retreated to Ephraim, a little village on the edge of the wilderness [John 11:54]. But the time for the Jewish Passover draws near and the Pharisees suspect that Jesus will come to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast. Yet, before the fateful events of the last week of Jesus’ life, he again returns to Bethany, the home of his beloved friends, Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. They give a dinner for Jesus and some of His close associates.

I suspect that there was something nostalgic and poignant about the gathering. Lazarus is one of those who is reclining at the table with our Lord. Martha, as is her custom, is busy cooking and serving. We’ll hear from Mary in just a minute. There’s no doubt also some tension in the air, but one can also easily imagine that as the food and wine is consumed the group begins to reminisce, to remember and recount intimate stories, and to recall some of the many healings performed by Jesus. No doubt, they also discuss some of His teachings as well. “Did you really mean it when you said the last shall be first? It sounds so counter intuitive.”

In spite of the nostalgia, as I say, Death is in the air. Each time the sisters hear the voice of their Master, each time they steal a look at their brother, they are reminded of Death’s presence among them. To be sure, the fact that their brother is present at the table speaks strongly of their Lord’s power over death. But everyone present knows that the Pharisees are plotting to kill Jesus. The news around town and in Jerusalem is that they’re offering rewards for information that might lead to His capture.

What’s more, there is now even a bounty on the head of their brother [John 12:10]. The powers of the world are moving forward; the confrontation is no doubt just a few days ahead. While they don’t know the specifics, they know that Death lies ahead—Jesus has said so on numerous occasions. Mary and Martha, whose hearts were first broken when Lazarus died and then renewed when their Lord brought him back from the dead, know that their hearts will soon be broken again. How much time is left? No one knows for sure.

As we recall this familiar story, we remember that it is at this point that Mary does something completely unscripted. John tells us that she takes about a pint of pure nard—an expensive perfume—and pours it on the feet of Jesus. And as if that isn’t unusual enough, she proceeds to wipe the Messiah’s feet with her hair. “Messiah” is the Hebrew word that is often translated as “anointed.” Thus, Mary, in her emotional lavishness, has anointed the Anointed.

And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume [John 12:3b].

Mary, sitting there watching the brother and sister that she loves, gazing upon and listening to the Messiah that she worships and loves, sharing laughter and tears with dear friends who have gathered with them for what may be one of their last dinners together, is deeply moved. Action must trump protocol. Fully aware of how fragile, and yet how wonderful, life is when Jesus is in their presence, she determines to hold nothing back. Staid modes of proper decorum must be jettisoned. She will act now; she must act now. This moment will not last in its current form forever.

And so, through Mary’s act—her worship offering—the smell of the exquisite perfume replaces the stench of death that Mary and Martha had so painfully experienced with their brother’s first death just a few days ago. Indeed, Death is still in the air for the huddled group sharing a meal, but now it is joined by the fragrance of hope that lingers in the nostrils and memory as well.

Oh, I know, I know: Judas wants to spoil the moment. He pulls out his iPad, makes some quick calculations, and reminds everyone that Mary has just poured a working man’s wages for an entire year on the feet of Jesus, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?”

Some of us, even acknowledging the role that Judas will play in the arrest and crucifixion to follow, may pause for at least a moment and silently agree. Why fresh flowers on the altar Sunday after Sunday after Sunday? Why expend those funds to keep the organ in good repair? We could sure save money without these expensive weekly worship bulletins. Can you imagine how much that church spent on landscaping alone last year?

Indeed, Judas’ careful calculus invites us to pause before our gifts and carefully calculate what alternatives there might be to uttering and showing praise for our Lord. Jesus, bless His heart, never seems interested in debits and credits, in cosmic and/or Heavenly balance sheets. He’d never be asked to be chairperson of the parish’s finance committee. You’d never put him in charge of the Fall Stewardship campaign. He never stops to count the cost.

And so, Jesus dresses Judas down. Mary’s is the appropriate response. Throw out the green visors and the spreadsheets. Mary has taken advantage of the moment; she has offered her over-the-top offering to Jesus because she recognizes that in this treacherous, dangerous, temporary world, she may not have tomorrow within which she might make another offering.

Where has Judas been all this time? Has he actually listened to the worlds of Jesus? Mary has learned as she has sat at the feet of her Lord. Her love must be enacted now. It must be enacted here. It must be demonstrated here and now before the group at this poignant moment because that is exactly how the Kingdom works. Jesus takes Mary’s side in this moment. He wholeheartedly affirms her extravagant actions. He does so not just with his words that evening, but, with every action of his life. His actions, even actions upon a Cross, exceed mere words.

Jesus’ love is never wasted; it’s only lavished. Like the seeds sown in his parable, it is broadcast in all directions. By the terms of the world, it is always excessive since it is directed at all, not just to those who have decided that they are ready to receive it.

Friends might be dropping by this weekend. Why are you still saving that nice Bordeaux? Be sure to decant it properly. The church nursery needs 22 volunteers each Sunday for the two services and its Sunday school. Why don’t you give the church office a call? A recent announcement indicates there are some families who have resettled here from Afghanistan. I wonder how they might like some American food. A friend just received a scary diagnosis. Should you wait to see what treatment options might be advised? Why not head over there now—not next week—now?

John, the Gospel writer, notes that the beginning of Jesus’ ministry was at Cana, with His gift of expensive wine. No doubt it had a beautiful bouquet [John 2:1-11]. Near the end of Jesus’ ministry, Mary confirms Christ’s mission with a “holy wasteful,” but wonderfully fragrant anointing. What a hauntingly, lovely smell! She does that because that is what Jesus has taught her. Indeed, that is what Jesus has taught us.

Those of us who seek to follow Jesus must imitate Mary.