I’m a lectionary preacher. I use what’s given to us for readings on Sunday as a basis for and to craft my sermons.
The vast majority of time it’s the Gospel lesson, and people who’ve been around me for awhile know that there are particular lectionary quirks that get me fired up.
I’m not a fan of leaving things out: I like the complete section of a Gospel text. I often reference what’s just happened before the text so we can discern where it is going. So I especially don’t like it when the text gets lifted out of its context: that might work in the vacuum of Sunday morning Church, but it gets us away from the intent of the story.
And what REALLY gets me is when we are humming along Sunday after Sunday within a Gospel text, and then suddenly we switch Gospels. That’s so frustrating! Our four Gospels are not interchangeable! They can’t be condensed into one singular “authentic” story of Jesus.
So when we’ve been hearing Luke’s Gospel every week, and suddenly we get shifted to John, I’m going to get bothered.
Luke’s anointing story of Jesus is COMPLETELY different from John’s! It happens MUCH earlier in Luke’s Gospel (Chapter 7): before Jesus starts telling parables, before the Transfiguration, and LONG before Jesus turns towards Jerusalem and what happens there to him.
The setting in Luke is a dinner at a Pharisees’ home. An unnamed and previously unknown woman appears. The point of the story is that she, a sinner, is deeply appreciative of Jesus’ message of Good news for sinners, and the moment becomes a comparison between the good reputation and standing of the dinner host with the deep action of gratitude from the woman. In paraphrase: “Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But to one to like you, dinner host who by appearances has everything of his life together, because you seem to have little need for forgiveness, you sadly show little love.”
This is an intriguing story to engage in, especially in today’s world. And if our purpose for this Sunday was to continue a study of Luke’s Gospel, it would be fair to say we have veered off course.
But this Sunday is NOT actually a study of Luke’s Gospel. This is first and foremost the season of Lent, and the Sunday before Palm Sunday: the triumphant yet shocking entry into Jerusalem that sets the endgame of Jesus’ ministry and life into motion. To honor our Lenten journey, the lectionary writers are ABSOLUTELY right to switch to John’s Gospel, and a very different anointing story.
The first thing we must do is set this story into the context of John’s Gospel. It comes right after the raising of Lazarus. Remember, Jesus intentionally stayed away for three days, waiting for Lazarus to die so he could raise him. This was to be Jesus’ great miracle, but Jesus doesn’t understand the pain it causes. The Jesus of John’s Gospel is thinking in an eternal context: I’m raising him, so death doesn’t matter. And that’s an important message for us: on one hand, death is not the end and it’s power is partial. But Jesus discovers that human life has a more complex relationship with death when he is confronted by Martha, and witnesses Mary’s weeping. And in that moment he gains’ human insight. Pain is real. Suffering is real. Death is real. Grief is real. And powerful, even if it doesn’t have the last word. Jesus weeps with them, in no small part because of his role in Lazarus’ death. And he raises him, not in triumph, but with new understanding.
But Jesus is not the only one with new insight. This anointing story takes place in the home of the siblings: Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. I believe that they together plan what happens that night. Martha serves: she makes the dinner happen, and cares for all whom gather there. That’s her talent and gift. Lazarus is at the table with Jesus. This may seem low key, but his sitting there represents concurrence with what Jesus has done and his sisters are doing (plus this time yesterday he was dead, let’s cut him some slack…)
It’s Mary who carries out the statement action (I believe fully on behalf of all three siblings). “Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” This is both intimate and public, and clearly filled with deep meaning.
Judas is the one here who publicly objects, even though the text says he has ulterior motives. This is John’s commentary on Judas’ deception. But in Mark’s likely original story, in a similar setting, multiple people object with the same argument: ‘Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.’ (Mark 14:4)
The objection is fair, but misses the point of the action. The siblings (and in Mark’s case, yet another unknown woman) are demonstrating not only that they understand what Jesus is doing in his continued confrontation with the authorities, but that they are with him. A ritualistic variation of this anointing is of a DEAD body. This anointing takes place within the action to publicly push the message of God’s love for the world even with the growing risk of death. They want Jesus to know that they know, and that they are grateful.
Jesus understands, and so must we good hearer. We must stand for what is right, especally in the midst of powerful wrong. We must stand for others, especially when others have been knocked down. We must risk death so there can be new life for everyone. That, is the way of Jesus.
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