Sermon Tone Analysis

Mary Anoints Jesus

(Mt 26:6–13; Mk 14:3–9)

12 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him.

Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.

3 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.

4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6 (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.)

7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone.

She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.

8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

We are drawing close to the climax of the story.

Just 6 days before Passover.

The next day in the narrative is Palm Sunday, which we’ll celebrate next week.

We are about to enter the familiar, haunting, powerful, overwhelming stories of Holy Week, taking steps ever closer to Easter.

In today’s text, Jesus is in the home of his dear friends, Lazarus, Mary and Martha.

Every time we see these three in the story, I get the sense that Jesus is with his people, his true family, the ones he holds close in his heart and goes to be with for restoration.

Think for a moment about who those folks are?

Who are the ones you go to be with to truly unwind, to be yourself, to let your guard down?

Elsewhere in Jesus’ ministry, Jesus is confronted by the disciples to go out and greet his mother, Mary, and his brothers, who have come to visit.

Jesus questions the disciples about family — the ones who hear the word and “get it”, those are my family, he remarks.

So who are your people, your chosen family?

I grew up at Calvin Presbyterian Church in Shoreline, WA.

It was a good sized church and it was populated by my family members: Both sets of grandparents attended there during my childhood, before they moved away in retirement.

My parents had been in the youth group together there and were married in that church.

My sister and I were baptized there.

Calvin Presbyterian sponsored my Aunt and Uncle when they went to Nairobi, Kenya to serve as missionaries with Wycliffe Bible Translators.

In church, I grew up around my family.

And yet there was this other family in that congregation.

People we went on summer camping trips with.

The kids that I grew up alongside in youth group.

The people we would BBQ with in the summer and do white elephant gift exchanges with before Christmas.

These people became the chosen family.

There is a group of folks from those days at Calvin Presbyterian who still spend time together in meals and fellowship, long after their children have left home and they have left that congregation for various reasons.

They are dear friends who call themselves, “Forever Family.”

They have chosen a way of life together, a commitment to be themselves, to be known.

I think about my life now in Bellingham.

Having been here for almost half of my life, I feel like I have started to find this kind of “forever family” myself.

The people you share the joys and sorrows of life with.

The people who you celebrate job opportunities with or sit in sorrow alongside through a divorce.

A forever family.

Jesus is sitting with his forever family.

We can include the disciples in this mix too, though with any family group, there are the ones who resist belonging or have intimacy struggles.

We’ll come back to Judas in a moment, because he’s got a key part to play in this forever family.

Jesus is with the people who he can let it all out with and who also are willing to be their authentic selves.

Mary comes to him.

Mary the one who has throughout the stories of Jesus’ ministry been a focal point of God’s restorative power and intimate grace.

Mary comes to Jesus and does something uncomfortably lavish — she blesses him, washes him, anoints him with very expensive perfume.

It might have felt like an awkward moment, her intimate and lavish sharing with her beloved Rabbi.

But her act was one of great generosity and trusting abundance — turning to Jesus with an abundant, lavish gift of welcome and hospitality.

This act of anointing signals, in John’s gospel, a marking and preparation for what is to come.

Clear enough, if we know the story, the anointing of oil and perfume is fitting for burial, for a person who is ready to die.

But Mary’s motives are more complex than this, it seems, at least in how John tells the story.

Because he pairs this lavish gift with the scrutiny of Judas and a word about celebration amidst a world of poverty — “the poor you will always have with you.”

Let’s pull back the layers here, slowly.

Mary offers Jesus this lavish blessing and anointing.

Let’s start there.

When you walk in the door of someone you love, someone who is in your circle, think about how they can welcome you in a similar fashion.

Perhaps they offer an embrace — not perfunctory, but a deep, knowing embrace of a friend.

Perhaps you walk in, after they’ve taken your coat, and you see that they have laid out good food to eat and opened a nice bottle of wine from their cellar to share.

Perhaps you walk in to their bathroom, to freshen up, and see that they have set out a towel and good smelling soaps and lotions.

In the home of your people, you know these are set out for you and you do not worry about using them because they are gifts, abundant, simple offerings of friendship and fellowship.

In her own way, this is what Mary offers.

Hold on to this sense, this abundance and generosity in Mary’s hospitable welcome to Jesus.

Savor it.

Breathe it in.

Because, as the text unfolds, we acknowledge that these moments are fleeting.

Judas

I can imagine that scene and the others gathered around in that moment of anointing.

Some, I suspect, would be brought to tears.

They know what this gift means.

They know what it means to Mary, to both welcome Jesus into her home and expectantly say goodbye to her dear friend.

Others, perhaps among the disciples, have had this sense too.

This is a sweet time and one that marks some sense of transition in their relationships.

Before we move on, I want to make a note of something in this text that we might miss.

Let’s take a roll call here, just to consider who really was in the room.

Verse 1, we see that it’s the home of Lazarus.

In vs. 2, Martha is serving and Lazarus is at the table with Jesus.

In vs. 3, Mary is pouring perfume.

In vs. 4&5, Judas chimes in about the value of the perfume.

And in this moment, we might want to paint in the whole rest of the disciples, because, hey, if Judas is there (that scoundrel) then certainly the rest are.

I want us to consider that we might be rushing to conclusions about Judas.

Why not list or reference the rest of the disciples?

Sure, maybe it’s assumed.

But why not make it explicit?

What if, instead, it’s actually just Jesus, Lazarus, Martha, Mary, and…Judas?

Knowing the rest of the story, at least how we most often hear it, we would balk at this idea that Judas was a part of that inner circle, that forever family, that intimate gathering with Jesus.

What’s the betrayer doing there?

You don’t invite your enemy to that kind of table.

Ok, hold on — first, if you’re Jesus, you....actually do.

You eat meals with your betrayer.

You welcome them in the same way you welcome your beloved.

You offer them grace forever and always.

But second, and this is a kicker for me because it changes the game from this point on — what if Judas is at the table because he is just as important and intimately known and loved by Jesus as Mary, Martha and Lazarus?

Judas asks the question that everyone is thinking: why waste all that expensive perfume when we could have helped people in need with it?

It’s a valid, real question.

He’s thinking “I’ve been keeping our accounts and we cannot afford to spend like that.

It’s not prudent.

It’s not responsible.”

And he’s right!

Certainly, vs. 6 helps us out as John tells us that Judas actually wasn’t concerned with caring for the poor, but was lining his pockets with some of the common purse money.