A Defining Moment

John 12:1-8

1 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 reclining with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’s 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.”

This is a defining moment for Mary.  Earlier in the gospel of John, when the writer is first introducing us to Mary and her family, she is described this way: Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill.  For all the ways that Mary could have been remembered and identified, this is what stands out – her extravagant, intimate, I-don’t-care-what-others-will-think anointing of Jesus for his burial.  She knows who Jesus is.  She knows what God has done for her through Jesus – bringing her brother back to her, turning her grief to joy.  Mary responds with praise, honoring Jesus as her king.

This is a defining moment for Jesus.  The very next day, he will ride into Jerusalem on a donkey’s colt.  The crowd that has been growing tremendously since Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead will meet him with palm branches in hand, shouting, Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel!  The newly anointed one is king – not the kind of king the people want, but the kind of king the world needs. The kind of king who lives and dies, not for power, but for love of the whole world. This king, anointed not by powerful men but by a woman who has witnessed his life-giving love firsthand, will go from that meal in the home of Lazarus and celebrate his own last supper with his disciples.  There he will be the one who kneels down and washes the feet of his friends – an unsightly, unbecoming-a-king act of turning-the-world-upside-down love.

This is a defining moment for Judas.  The gospel writer has previously identified Judas as the disciple who is going to betray his teacher, but now we know his character, what he values, how he wants to be perceived (as someone who cares about the wellbeing of those suffering under the weight of poverty) in contrast to who he really is (a thief put into a position of power – keeper of the purse, a disciple in word only, untrustworthy, and ready to betray the very one who loved him even at his worst).

This is a defining moment for Lazarus and his sisters.  They have experienced – in unimaginable ways – the depth of Jesus’ love for them.  Lazarus was called out from his tomb by the voice of this king.  But now, to know Jesus, to invite him to dinner, to have him in your home, to recognize that you owe your life to him – is to risk losing your life. The chief priests and the Pharisees have given orders that anyone who knows where Jesus is should let them know, so that they might arrest him.  Lazarus himself has become a target of the authorities, since it was through his return to life that so many came to believe in Jesus.  The chief priests plan to put Lazarus to death as well, because he is a walking, talking, living example of the power of Jesus. But rather than hiding, or keeping quiet, or not making a scene, Lazarus invites Jesus into his home to eat at his table, to be served by Martha, to be anointed by Mary – even though welcoming him, embracing him, loving him was a threat to their own welfare.

This is a defining moment for us.  Who are we as disciples of this king, who does not stand removed from the suffering of the world, but washes the feet of his friends, takes a posture of servanthood, rejects worldly power, and ultimately dies rather than stand for anything but love and compassion?

Imagine walking into this sanctuary on Easter morning.  Imagine the scent of the lilies, their perfume permeating this space, testifying to this king’s victory over betrayal, and lies, over greed and arrogance, over all that would rob this world of true life. 

Imagine your praise today, your gratitude for this king, your love of this Jesus, as a costly perfume whose fragrance fills our earthly home and anoints Jesus for the road ahead.  Imagine this anointing staying with Jesus as he endures arrest and torture, wears a crown of thorns, and goes to his own tomb so that we will never be confined to ours. Imagine worshiping this king, and this king alone – the one who stands, suffers, and dies for love.  Amen.

 

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