The Fragrance of Faith - 4-3-22
The Fragrance of Faith
Is 43:16-21; John 12:1-8
Is 43:16-21
Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.
John 12:1-8
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 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. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.
Prayer – Lord, during these 40 days of Lent you have walked with us. You have led us down paths that we didn’t necessarily want to go, leading us toward honesty, truth-telling, and the adventure of following you as you do your work in our world. Although we can’t always explain our faith in you, we believe in you; and even though we don’t always live up to our intentions to be faithful, you continue to believe in us. For the gift of faith working in each of us, sometimes in spite of ourselves, remind us that what you do for us in the coming days, matters beyond measure – amen.
“Smells are surer than sights or sounds to make your heartstrings crack,” writes Vladimir Nabokov. That is certainly the truth. I can remember watching my paternal grandmother kneading the yeast dough to make her mouthwatering, soul-tempting yeast rolls. When my mother asked her for the recipe she couldn’t tell her as it was about the feel of the ingredients sifting through her fingers. But I can remember, vividly the rich smell of the dough cooking in the oven, the gentle brown color of each, the butter dripping out of the middle after we cut them in half. But, oh the smell, it made my mouth water, my tongue thirst for such righteous a taste.
The fragrance of faith found in our passage this morning is a not so subtle reminder to me of the faithful hands of my grandmother preparing love on a plate for us. The smell of those yeast rolls cooking permeated every nook and cranny of her house. Every holiday, most Sunday’s and certainly every birthday celebration had my grandmother’s rolls sitting front and center, warm and fragrant. It was the smell of love, extravagant love for her family.
Scientists says that while words go to the thinking part of our brains, smells – fragrances – go to the emotional part, the amygdala. That’s why a whiff of a well-prepared yeast roll anywhere, in any restaurant today, can take me back to my grandmother’s kitchen, to her dining room table for a brief moment, and I can truly sense the love she had for all of us as if she were sitting with us even today. It was the fragrance of love and faith for me growing up.
This passage from John’s gospel is a ‘fragrant’ text. Jesus’ friend Mary, she is only named in this gospel although this story is present in all four gospels, takes a jar of very expensive perfume and with it bathes the feet of Jesus. Scholars today suggest that the perfume was worth the equivalent of $10000 plus in today’s currency. It is amazing to me that 2000 years ago, a simple, devotional act of faithfulness and love is remembered by us today.
Jesus has joined his friends, Mary, Martha and Lazarus at their home in Bethany – a place of sanctuary for him amidst the many demands of his ministry and work. His friends take him, shutting out the world for this one night at least. Just a few verses before our passage today, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead so he may still have a deathly odor about him as they gathered at the kitchen table. Martha was busy as always cooking up a good stew for her friend and Savior. I can see Jesus sitting there, perhaps staring off into the future, knowing that the smells of the kitchen may very well be mingling with the smells of sweat and blood, fear and suffering, even death for himself in just a few short days.
Finally, supper is on the table and they all sit down to eat, saying what they hope and hiding what they fear. I can imagine Lazarus sitting near his friend who wept for him just days before. No one notices that Mary may have stepped away until she comes back holding a clay jar in her hands. Wordless, she kneels before Jesus’ feet and breaks the neck of the expensive jar. The smell of spikenard fills every nook and cranny of the room – a sharp scent halfway between mint and ginseng. Then as everyone watches, she does four remarkable things in a row.
First she loosens her hair in a room full of men, which an honorable woman would never do in ancient Palestine. Then she pours the perfume on Jesus’ feet, which is also not done. The head – maybe – people do that for kings – but not the feet. Then she touches him – a single woman rubbing a single man’s feet – also not done, not even among friends. Then she wipes the perfume off with her hair – so intimate and so totally inexplicable – the bizarre end of a fragrantly faithful and loving act.
Most of us are so moved by the scene that we overlook the eccentricities, or else we don’t care. The point is that she loved him deeply and was a faithful follower of this itinerant street preacher. Different than the other three gospel stories, this is no stranger to Jesus, but his long-time friend. So why this public demonstration, why this odd pantomime in front of all his friends? It’s extravagant; it’s excessive. She’s gone overboard, as Judas is quick to note – ‘Why wasn’t this perfume sold for a whole lot of money and given to the poor?’ That’s an interesting question to which Jesus brushes it aside.
Whatever Mary thought about what she did, and whatever anyone else in the room thought about it, Jesus took Mary’s act of true love as a faithful message from God – not the hysteric ministrations of an old maid gone sweetly mad but the carefully planned act of a faithful woman. Everything around Mary smacked of significance – Judas, the betrayer, challenging her act as a waste and out in the yard, a freshly vacated tomb that probably still smelled of burial spices, waiting for a new occupant. The air was dense with a variety of fragrances – life, food, friendship, betrayal and death.
When Mary kneeled before Jesus with the pound of nard in her hand, it could have gone either way. She could have anointed his head and everyone there could and would have proclaimed him a king. But she didn’t do that. When she knelt before him, and poured the fragrant perfume on his feet, it meant only one thing. The only man who got his feet anointed was a dead man, and Jesus knew it as did everyone else in the room.
So Mary rubbed his feet with perfume so precious that its sale might have fed a poor family for a year, an act so lavish that is suggests another layer. There will be nothing economical about this man’s death, just as there has been nothing economical about his life. In him, the extravagance of God’s love is made flesh. In him, the excessiveness of God’s grace and mercy is made manifest.
This bottle, this fragrance of faith, will not be held back and admired. This precious substance will not be saved for a rainy day. It will be opened, offered and used, at a great price. It will be raised up and poured out for the life of the world, emptied to the last drop. Before that happens, Jesus will gather with his friends for a final meal. At that last supper, with most of the same people present, Jesus will strip, tie a towel around his waist, and wash the feet of his friends. Then he will give them a new commandment, love one another, as I have loved you.
At least one of the disciples will argue with him, while others will wonder if he has lost his ever-loving mind. But a few will watch him working on their feet and may very well remember Mary bending over his feet like that – Mary – who knew how to respond to Jesus without being told, the one who acted out his last, new commandment even before he said it to them.
Mary gave her most precious belonging to Jesus, a jar of perfume, her love and faithfulness all the while, Judas traded his most precious relationship in for a bag of silver. Mary gave all that was precious to her and Judas did the exact opposite. I suppose the fragrance of love and faith is very different than the fragrance of 30 blood-stained coins. And I suppose that both Mary and Judas realized that as well.
I imagine that your most valuable possession is probably something different. I suspect that none of you have a $10000 bottle of perfume sitting in your house. But I can also imaging there is something you own that is quite precious to you. What is it? You know what it is. It’s different for everyone. Search your heart. What is the most precious thing in your life? Is it your bank account? Is it your image in the community? Is it your kids or grandkids or great-grandkids? Is it your health and wellbeing? Would you or could you give it for Jesus? Would you allow your grown children to throw away their careers, their life savings to go into Christian work in some distant, difficult, discouraging place?
How extravagant is our love for Christ? Is it extravagant at all, or do we simply go through the motions? We sing the hymns, we utter the prayers, we recite the creeds, you even listen to me. But do I, do we love others in the way that Mary loved Jesus, or as much as Jesus loves us? Do we make a place for the outcast, the rejected, the oppressed, the homeless, the victimized and marginalized souls who Jesus loves and eats with every day? Remember – they will know we are Christians by our love, by our love.
Mary used a deeply personal possession to anoint Christ – a fragrance of faith and love that permeated her home and the lives of those who had dinner in that home. When she wiped the perfume off his feet with her hair, then wherever Mary went, the fragrance was sure to go, almost like a little lamb. The blessing shared with Jesus was shared with others who smelled the fragrance of faith and love surrounding Mary – that fragrance would forever be remembered as a reminder of her love – just like the smell of a yeast roll can remind me of the love of my grandmother.
The strong smell of the perfume poured out on Jesus’ feet and life happened shortly before his final days in Jerusalem. Such a strong smell would have lasted a long time – perhaps as he rode into Jerusalem on the back of a colt; perhaps as he cleaned the temple of moneychangers; perhaps even as he gathered in the upper room with his friends for the Passover meal; perhaps as he appeared before the High Priest and Pilate; and I wonder if the fragrance of faith of Mary’s perfume still lingered faintly as a reminder of her love. And I can only wonder if as Jesus uttered his last words of forgiveness and completion on the cross, was there a faint, sweet scent that reminded him that he too had been greatly loved. The fragrance of faith and love can linger a long time – ahhhh, a yeast roll – thanks be to God – amen.