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| Lent 5 "Anointing and Betraying" |
We have two stories here. In one, an unidentified woman uses some extremely valuable ointment to anoint Jesus. In the other, Judas goes to the priests to betray his friend and teacher. It would be quite possible to organize an entire service around either of these. But I think they're connected. So I would start at the end, and work forward. I would provide some visible example of “last straws.” If there's a juggler in the congregation, I could ask her/him to keep more and more balls in the air, until there's one too many and the whole act comes crashing down. Or I could make up some balance scales, with a solid weight in one end. Then I would add grains of rice to the other end, until a single grain was enough to cause the scales to tip. If none of those are available, I could tell the snowflake story (see below, from Currents). I would ask members of the congregation to think about “the last straw” that caused them to make some dramatic decision: to quit a job, to get married, to get a divorce, to buy an expensive car, to move, to train for a new career... I would tell a personal story. Perhaps about buying a diamond engagement ring that left me with no savings to get married with. Perhaps about a snarky memo that convinced me I could never see eye to eye with my boss. Whatever it is, I would suggest, that “last straw” is a symptom, not a cause. It's often a small thing that reveals a bigger reality. So too, perhaps, for Judas. And what was it that tipped him over the edge? A bit of extravagance. Scandalously, an unnamed woman (John's gospel identifies her as Mary of Bethany who would have some right to be there, as a hostess; Matthew doesn't bother) comes into an all-male dinner group. She brings a ceramic jar of expensive ointment. Rather than scoop out a small amount, she smashes the jar. It's all or nothing. And she lavishes the perfume on Jesus. (See below, from Last Chance, for an imaginative recreation of how he might have felt). When the disciples protest, Jesus says, “Leave her alone. It's a fine and beautiful thing that she has done.” Judas thought he was being responsible with the group's money. He thought he was learning from Jesus to care about the poor and the oppressed. And then he got rebuked for it. So he went to the priests, and cut a deal. A straightforward business deal. Perhaps it was revenge. Perhaps he thought it would force Jesus to declare himself as the Messiah, to act dramatically to save himself. We will never know why. And the unnamed woman could never know that her impulsive act could lead to the trial, the cross, and the resurrection. There's the point. We can never know, in advance, the outcome of our actions – for good or ill. We can only do what seems best, at the time. I might end there. Or I might go back to my own illustration, earlier, to see how it had unexpected consequences that I could not have anticipated. And then I would give my hearers some time to meditate on the unexpected consequences of some of their choices, in the past. Excerpt from Currents, by Jim Taylor (newsletter, February 1988) "Tell me the weight of a snowflake," said the mouse to the dove. "Nothing more than nothing," replied the dove. "In that case, I must tell you a marvellous story," the mouse said. "I sat on the branch of a fir, near the trunk, when it began to snow, steadily and heavily. I decided to count the snowflakes falling on the nearest branch. Their number was exactly 3,741,952. “But when the next flake fell, weighing nothing more than nothing, as you say, the branch broke." Having said that, the mouse scampered away. The dove, since Noah's time an authority on peace, thought for a long time. Finally the dove said, "Perhaps only one person's voice is lacking for peace to come about in the world." ___________________________________________________________ Excerpt from Last Chance: The Final Week of Jesus' Life, (Wood Lake, 1989, pages 61-62) Jesus had gone to the house of Simon the Leper for dinner. As he sat there, a woman – John identifies her as Mary, the sister of Martha – brought some expensive ointment, worth a whole year of a laborer's wages, and poured it on his head. For a tired man, tense after the constant confrontations in Jerusalem... the touch of that woman's hands must have felt wonderful. Perhaps she rubbed the warmed oil into his scalp, and let it run down his neck, and gently kneaded the knotted muscles of his shoulders until they relaxed... Perhaps, too, the disciples thought they were finally getting a grasp of their leader's goals. In the synagogue in Nazareth, he had formally declared himself on the side of the poor, the handicapped, the imprisoned, the oppressed. He had driven that message home in the Temple by turfing out the merchants and traders – those who exploited the devotion or the ignorance of visitors to the Temple – and freeing their captives. So they probably expected Jesus to praise them when they grumbled, “What a waste! If that lavish ointment had been sold, look how much we could have given to the poor!” They fell into the same trap as most of us. They thought about “the poor” generically – a sea of faces needing help. But Jesus never visited “the poor” nor talked with “the masses.” He visited people. Many people today give generously to support clothing stores and soup kitchens. But they wouldn't dream of getting to know a transient personally. They make compassion a principle; Jesus always made it a person. Excerpt from Last Chance: The Final Week of Jesus' Life, (Wood Lake, 1989, page 66) The pillars of the cathedral soared to a distant roof. We craned our necks in awe, staring heavenwards to its vaulted ceilings. The builders of this cathedral had lavished great wealth on it. Yet this ornate, opulent cathedral had been built by stone masons working for pennies a day. It's luxuries came from the contributions of uneducated, illiterate peasants, eking out a desperate living in squalid huts, dying of the plague, smallpox, tuberculosis... “It's magnificent,” breathed one tourist. “It's disgraceful!” spluttered another. “Those poor devils – think how much better off they'd be if all that money had been used to improve their education or their hygiene...” “This could have been better spent on the poor,” the disciples protested, when Mary squandered expensive ointment on Jesus. But Jesus disagreed: “It is a fine and beautiful thing she had done for me,” he replied. Had the money for that cathedral been spent on the peasants instead of the building, they might have lived a little longer, a little easier. But if they had a choice, would they rather have in their midst a cathedral that soared over them, reflecting their hopes and aspirations? Or a few extra days of mortal life? JIm's full List of suggestions for preaching these stories
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