With grateful thanks to two wonderful colleagues (cited) who may never know how much they helped me today!
Sermon for the 5th Sunday in Lent
April 3, 2022
Our Saviour
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You are the love of each living creature, O God.
You are the warmth of the rising sun
You are the whiteness of the moon at night
You are the life of the growing earth
You are the strength of the waves at sea.
Speak to me this night, O God
Speak to me your truth.
Dwell with me this night, O God
Dwell with me in love.
(J. Philip Newell, Celtic Prayers of Iona, 42)
These words of J. Philip Newell remind us that all that we are, and all that we have is of God. It is all too easy for us to dismiss that at times.
But on this night, Mary could not dismiss it. Jesus had come for dinner. Those gathered were still trembling because Lazarus had joined them at the table, and were also likely aware of the dangerous currents sweeping them along. My friend Marshall writes, “Just offstage, John lets his readers in on a bit of dramatic irony. Between Jesus’ resuscitation of Lazarus and this odd dinner party, the chief priests and the Pharisees call a meeting of the council. Jesus has been performing increasingly worrisome signs, and now there’s talk that he’s raising people from the dead. And so, a plan is hatched to have Jesus arrested and put to death. We can almost feel the tension in the air as Jesus, Lazarus, Mary, Martha, and the others sit down to dinner. The cost of Lazarus’ new lease on life might very well be Jesus’ own life, and one dinner guest—Judas—was prepared to do everything in his power to make it so. Just then, Mary, who hung on Jesus’ every word, got up from the table, let down her hair, opened a jar of powerfully scented nard ointment, anointed Jesus’ feet, and began wiping them with her hair.” (MarshallJolly/https://www.episcopalchurch.org/sermon/walking-toward-the-cross-lent-5-c-april-3-2022%EF%BF%BC/)
Have you ever been present when someone went way overboard in their expression of love? What is John trying to tell us by sharing an act that must have been so uncomfortable to observe? Perhaps we need to understand the distinction between how we act when we really know and recognize Jesus, versus the way we conveniently forget who God is to us because we cannot seem to understand this new thing that God is doing. Judas Iscariot gives lip service to “helping the poor,” but that cannot hold water when he has been helping himself to the common purse. Mary of Bethany, who cannot possibly have afforded with ease something as costly as a pound of nard, is appreciating who Jesus has been to her as a human companion and teacher, but she is overwhelmed by who Jesus will be for her as her Savior. Chana Tetzlaff says, “Mary is shameless as she steps far outside the bounds of convention, teetering on the edge of scandal. Mary’s actions are laced with a wanton tenderness found between married couples, not an unmarried man and woman. . . .The question that has occupied the imaginations of theologians throughout the centuries must have been on everyone else’s mind in that moment: Is there something more than meets the eye going on between them? Perhaps something romantic?”
(http://modernmetanoia.org/2016/02/29/lent-5c-a-scandalous-gift-of-love/)
It is worth noting that Shameless has two definitions— we tend to think about it primarily as the first, as something for which you should be ashamed. Certainly, that was the definition Judas ascribed to Mary; her tenderness made him very uncomfortable. Perhaps he already sensed that his own actions would exclude him from this relationship. But there is a secondary definition, and it is much more descriptive of what Mary chose to do. This definition refers to acting without worrying whether your actions are right or wrong. Mary’s weeping is the joyous acknowledgement of what Jesus will sacrifice for her sake— for our sake.
Much has been made over this act of abandonment which Mary makes, —as though it cannot be simply what it is. Surely it is romantic, or sexual, or perhaps even attention getting? Tetzlaff squashes that diminution of Mary’s act.
“Of course there was something going on between them. Mary has fallen in love with the Christ, with God the gracious lover of souls, who looks with compassion and a multitude of mercies upon all who turn to him for help. Like others throughout millennia, like the Disciples (though John marks Judas as the exception), like Paul, like you and me, Mary has come to know the ‘surpassing value of knowing Christ who has made me his own’. Mary is in love with the God who loves her. . . .Mary revels in the joy that comes from her very soul being laid bare before her Maker and finding, instead of judgement, love and desire for her soul, for her true self, for her.” (Ibid.) In Bethany, Mary offered her own life to be laid at the feet of Jesus; there would be no silly social barriers between them, just love— because in that same love he would sacrifice his life for her.
Yesterday, women of our parish gathered at the Women’s Retreat to learn about Celtic Christianity. No, it wasn’t Kanuga, but it was an amazing way to walk together. As we worshiped in the beautiful garden on Timber Lane, the birds were singing, the sun was shining and the Holy Spirit was pulling . . .briskly. . .at our coat sleeves. We felt God’s presence with clarity and strength. It was good to be together after so long apart, in this moment of Lent.
Lent is not a long winter, especially in South Carolina, but it can feel like one. And after weeks of hearing about sin and separation from God, we are getting restless to skip to the end of the story. After all, the dogwoods are blooming. We desperately want someone to tell us that the power of the Dark Side is fading, that Evil cannot win.
We will get there, but we have a few more miles to go. We cannot truly appreciate Easter without Palm Sunday and Holy Week. For now, we know enough:
Speak to me your truth, [O God.]
Dwell with me in love.
Amen.
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