Fifth Sunday in Lent - Sunday, April 7, 2019

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. John Forbis, OHC
Fifth Sunday in Lent - Sunday, April 7, 2019

Isaiah 43:16-21
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8

Click here for an audio version of the sermon.

It’s Lent 5, the last Sunday of Lent, and now the Cross is beginning to cast its shadow even as far as two miles over one house in Bethany.  However, considering there’s a death warrant out, not only for Jesus but Lazarus as well, two miles isn’t that far, and tensions are high.

There sit the two condemned to death side by side feasting at the table.  Martha is working, of course.  Judas, agitated, isolated, alone and barely able to conceal the fact that he is betraying Jesus to the Jewish authorities, watches Mary at Jesus’ feet again. 

Only this time, Mary’s not just listening.  She’s bathing his feet.  A fragrance from a rare aromatic plant from the Himalayas used by ancient sages for worship curls through the room like it is worth all the 300 denarii it cost.  That amount equals a laborer’s yearly wage, an outrage and obscene display.
 
Furthermore, Mary, one of the women of the house, insults herself taking on the role of a servant girl, a slave or something more lascivious.  She bundles in her hands her hair like supple broom and wipes Jesus’ feet. Paul calls this part of a woman’s body the most glorious.

How could Jesus just take this all in and succumb to such a seduction? 

John calls Judas a thief and discounts his verbal protest as a veil for greed.  Judas has been stealing from the common purse who knows how long.  He is the betrayer, but fear can so overwhelm someone that he is led to actions that even betray himself. 

Judas is so confused and baffled about Jesus, he is blind to anything beyond his own survival.  But can any of us be exempt from such a liability?  Besides, at least some of the disciples could be harboring some of the same thoughts; at least, Judas has the audacity to say them. 
 
But why does Jesus open himself to this lavish, sensual touch?  Because the shadow is darker and more enveloping for him than anyone else in the room.  He also knows just how much darker that shadow will get.  So does Judas, and so does Mary, it seems. 

But here he doesn’t have to teach, heal, perform miracles or do anything.  This is the rare time in his life where all he has to do is to receive what Martha, Mary and Lazarus give best.  Even now they are doing what comes so naturally for them. 

Mary’s spice counteracts the stench of death of which Martha was afraid Lazarus would reek upon opening his tomb.  Jesus is so affected by her gesture that it compels him to perform the same devotion to his disciples just a few days later.  If Judas were with them, he would wash Judas’s feet as well.  Mary teaches Jesus and Judas more than anyone thought was possible.

But then, the shadow sends everyone inside the house back remembering the stories of the instrument of torture they heard about since they were children.  Can Judas or any of the disciples face such a destiny for themselves or for their teacher?  Does it all end there?

Isaiah’s words echo for all of them now, “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.” 

In this house in Bethany, Jesus lives as he dies.  He is being prepared for the burial into the hearts of a man awakened by a new wind and who was possibly the first recipient of this ointment and two sisters who do only what they know to do – attend to him in their own unique characteristic ways.

Imagine offering Mary’s human, physical touch to Jesus, Martha’s intimate meal before his anguish and death, and Lazarus’s unbreakable bond with him.  We can. 

There are probably some of us here who do, and others who have some sense of a desire to do so.  Then, there might be others of us who are afraid to do so.  The poor are always with us.  We are surrounded by the instruments of daily grinding torture meted out to those who couldn’t possibly dream of having a home or washing Jesus’ feet even with water.  There is the laborer who’s yearly wage is barely or sometimes not enough to keep her or her children properly clothed, fed and in good health.

There is Judas, the disciples, Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, another condemned man.  There are Jesus’ accusers, the crowds who cry out, “Crucify him!”, the High Priests and Scribes, Pontius Pilate and the Roman soldiers who mocked and beat him mercilessly.  There’s Barabbas and the thieves suffering the same agonies on both sides of Jesus.  They are among us and some even within us.
 
Yes, we will always have the poor, but does it all end with a burial?  Not with Mary, Martha and Lazarus’s celebration of life amidst so much loss and death.

The shadow that is cast on all of them and us is just cruciform – no sign of any body.  And it will soon be without one again along with an empty tomb in a remote garden left with only linen wrappings and a cloth that was on his head.  Another woman will be the first to see him after his burial and fall at his feet as well.

It is all so new, so terrifying, so heartbreaking, confusing and misunderstood.  It’s tactile and fragrant and takes our breath away while giving us new life in return. It is the opportunity to give and receive love extravagantly even to and from those who spurn it. and then wince at how pungent that love is filling our hearts with Christ.