March 28, 2004

John 12: 1-8

“Filled with the Fragrance”

Prayer

I want to talk this morning about the power of love.

It will help to know some things about the people Jesus finds himself at table with.

Lazarus is the beloved friend of Jesus who lay dead in the tomb four days. Jesus called his friend from the cold and stench of the tomb and Lazarus walked out of death and into new life.

Mary and Martha are his sisters. They had gone through the agony of their brother's death and the amazement of his living again. Their love for the teacher Jesus had been great before the raising of Lazarus. After the miracle, they were forever devoted to him.

So Jesus finds himself at table with people who love him dearly.

And this is a great good. Because around him the world was closing in. The power of Rome and the fear of the power of Rome caused the Jewish authorities to seek to silence him, lest he bring unwanted Roman attention their way. It was becoming dangerous for Jesus to walk openly among his people. There were plots about how to catch and silence him. There were also plots against Lazarus. He was a walking reminder of the power Jesus taught. He too was dangerous to the tenders of the status quo.

So they gather at table: The two men threatened by the power of their witness.

The two women frightened by the threats against their beloveds. Sisters, who know the fear of knowing that people they love so dearly are so very vulnerable.

It had to feel like sanctuary in the midst of siege.

Imagine what it felt like to sit at table. In that company, in that time.

Maybe you have been at table with your beloveds at such a time.

When your child is spending a last meal before leaving - for college, for war, for pre-school, for marriage. You sit in the cocoon of the things you know - the strength of your love and the power of your fear of the unknown, and you hold each other in mindful ways as you savor your time together.

People who have been able to sit vigil with loved ones when they are dying know the power of this time. The fear of death, the fear of releasing your beloved to it, those fears stalk the perimeter of your time. But inside the circle of your love, there is only the comfort and care you can provide for your loved one. That is what matters.

What Mary does is love Jesus extravagantly. Aware of the threat to him, she chooses to love him while she can.

Nard was a precious thing. A pound of nard would equal roughly a year's wages. She pours it on his feet. Not his head, where we would expect an anointing. She uses the precious to honor his feet, seeming to symbolize that every part of this man is holy and to be honored.

And she uses her hair to wipe the feet of Jesus.

In her culture, much like in ours, a woman's hair was one of her prized attributes. Mary used a precious part of herself to wipe the feet of the man who had changed her life forever. She knelt at his feet, as only a servant would do, and was extravagant in the sharing of her love and gratitude.

The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

The power of love shared extravagantly is the kind of perfume that has staying power.

There are those who feel as though the times in which we live have bred a siege mentality.

We feel under siege due to the massive amount of information that comes our way. We live in an increasingly complex world in which we need to be able to speak the language of machines and of other cultures. We can't get live people to talk with us on phones. We don't know our neighbors because we are so busy driving our kids places that we don't have time to talk.

We read the headlines in the paper about who gets to love whom and how and regardless of our sense of things we shake our heads and seek retreat from the forces that threaten to break our hearts.

We, like Jesus, know the need to retreat. To sit at table and be loved extravagantly.

We, like Mary, know the need to retreat. To sit at table and love extravagantly.

One of the words I use each communion Sunday bears repeating here. The feast of love has been prepared for us: come, and share in this meal.

So why then do we so seldom allow ourselves to love and be loved?

In talking with the men's Bible study class about this text last week, we wondered about that. Jesus and those who loved him had a growing sense that he was going to die.

One of the men in the class spoke up:

Well, don't we as well? We will all die.

So why are we so slow to love each other extravagantly while we can?

Ah, the fragrance would fill the house!

Mary Oliver, in her poem "The Summer Day" ends with these lines:

“Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?”

May you choose to be courageous enough to use the precious stuffs of your life and lavish them on those you love.

Amen