Oil Spills Still Change Boundaries

Do you remember hearing that 4 out of 5 dentists recommend Crest toothpaste? I went to the dentist last Tuesday. Here’s my tube of Colgate. There are at least two sides to every story.

When it comes to the story of a woman anointing Jesus, there are at least four stories. Each of the four Gospels has some version of a woman anointing Jesus, either his feet, or his head.

Scholars see different men purported to own the house where the anointing occurs. They notice that the four gospels identify at least two, perhaps three, different women as the anointer. The moral character of these women is also variously described. Variations as to when the anointing happens within the time-frame of Jesus’ ministry are spotted. They observe that in each account, different persons object to what the woman does, as well as to how she does it. Jesus’ retorts / rebukes to the objectors vary.

It would be interesting to compare and contrast these descriptions, but that’s not a good way to preach. Looking back, some of my preaching sounds more like a bible study than a sermon. When that happens, it’s often because I was unwilling to really wrestle with the text at hand.

The story of Jesus’ anointing in John 12:1-8, by Lazarus’ sister, Mary, offers us an opportunity to do some wrestling. Maybe if we do that together, my reluctance won’t get in the way of our meaning making here. Let’s just go with what John tells us, as though this was the only anointing story we have.

Now we’ve met this family twice before. The first time, Luke (10) tells us Jesus ate supper with these folks. That’s when Mary got on Martha’s last nerve by not helping to serve. The second time we encountered them was in John 11.

There we hear Jesus failed to come when the sisters sent word that Lazarus was ill. It’s also there where Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. That happens only after both sisters complain that Lazarus would be alive if Jesus had come when they called. Lazarus exits the tomb after Martha professes that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, but not until she’s reminded Jesus how much Lazarus’ corpse stinks after four days.

That’s a lot of information, but we’re not ready to wrestle yet. I’m almost finished setting up the arena.

So far, we’ve got a high stakes event. You know how weddings and funerals can stress family and friends. Four years later, my brother still reminds me the police came to his daughter’s wedding reception because of a ruckus my son and his date, along with my daughter and another guest, got caught up in. In all honesty, my wife remembers my involvement in that event much differently than I do. Just last Saturday we calmed a family argument before the guests arrived for a funeral repast in the fellowship hall. There’s more tension to notice in Bethany.

This boundary-breaking anointing is sandwiched between the breath-taking statements in John 11:45-54, and in John 12:9-11. The former asserts that the High Priest determined to find a way to have Jesus eliminated, and makes it clear Jesus’ goes into hiding because he perceives the threat. The latter states that Lazarus is also slated for elimination by the authorities. See, added to the strain of this extended family’s gathering, is the anxiety over the fate of the guest(s) of honor? The air is thick with worry. Everyone in the room is vulnerable to its pressure, we along with them. We’re each part of this extended family.

For us, it’s 7 days until Passover, 10 before Good Friday. It matters a whole lot which face, what heart, whose genuine persona we bring, whose authentic character we show to God, at Jesus’ Calvary. Look see who within the frame of this family’s portrait you “take after.” Ready? Wrestle!

Maybe you’re like Mary. So overwhelmed with gratitude to Jesus for restoring her world, it’s as though she and Jesus are alone in the universe. In that newly enlivened space she acts with complete abandon. She lavishes on Jesus oil priced at a year’s wages. Discarding proper social customs she lets down her hair in public and takes up a servant’s role. Despite the cost to her station and her reputation, she is extravagant with her reverence for Jesus. Will these be the days when, wordlessly, you act out your praise? What would that look like?

Maybe days like these, when God shows up so clearly, brings out the Judas in you. You can never really decide which of, at least, three faces to reveal:
• There’s that part of you who says a whole lot about what everything costs, but can’t talk at all about what anything is really worth
• You’ve also got a face that’s been involved, outwardly, in all sorts of religious enterprises, but you’re only participating for what you can take
• Then, too, there’s the part of you who goes through all the motions with no real feeling, no connection, no attachment.
Will these finally be the days when you receive and relish in the identity, relatedness, and belonging God gives you, for free?

Could be you’re like Martha. Like always, she’s serving. No pot banging at this meal. She’s shown up. She just can’t show out. God’s coming near gets her attention, but not her focus. God’s favor gets her concentration, but not her consideration. Nothing changes Martha. Martha remains Martha. The burdensome work remains hers to do, no matter how much Jesus relieves her of her heavy lifting. Might these, for once, be the days when you meet Jesus hands-free? Maybe now, seeing Jesus doing a new thing, in you and for you, instead of saying, “Much obliged, and let me get right to that,” you’ll sit at his feet, where you’re neither busy nor idle, but simply basking in the love that flows from him, to you.

There are at least two sides to every story. I met a man the other day that, on hearing that I pastor a church, said, “Well, Jesus is my savior.” I said, “That’s cool. I don’t look good on wood.” Four out of five pastors will be glad to tell you what you have to do to be saved. I simply want to remind you, as we wrestle with this text, who we promised to be, and what we pledged to do, whenever it was that God’s Holy Spirit called us together.

We promised to be honest to God. We pledged to join God in creating, saving, and blessing the whole world. We agreed we’d lean on one another. We covenanted to be open to the new things God has in mind for us to be and to do. We said we’d forgive each other. We vowed to welcome the changes, personally and communally, God’s coming in just these ways brings to us and for us.

Let these be the days when our commitments to God and to one another fill the air with the rich fragrance of our servant-pouring.