Okay --I tried. But I couldn't get past the woman wiping the feet of Jesus with her hair. How totally erotic, how against the rules of men and women in public is that!?? --to heck with how much the stuff costs, women didn't touch men in public, much less touch them with their hair that they were supposed to keep covered except for their husbands. And was she one of those lowly "unclean" "outlaws" --someone who tends the dead?
Even so, Jesus accepts gladly this unusual offering of self, and meets Judas right where he is --worried about the $$$ instead of seeing the glory of this self-offering.
This passage reminds me to be who I am, fully, to the glory of God--and may we all let our hair down this week, unashamed, carefree of the cost.
--margaret
In this passage Mary shows a sign of love for Jesus; worship for the one whose sacrificial death will make Him the Savior of mankind. She sees what Judas cannot. How many today would choose to sell the expensive perfume, resisting the impulse to make it a "prodigal" sign of love? How many still allow arguments about practicality (which is self-justifying), like the complaint of Judas, to take away from our center of faith, avoiding true commitment, loyalty and love. In spite of all the misunderstandings (and protestations) to the contrary, this is what it means to be Christian, to be related first to Christ, in true devotion honoring Him in His death and knowing the power of his resurrection. You can always serve the poor, and it is no excuse to think of the money spent in worship. Such service of people in need is something we must do, but it's not the reason a genuine church exists. In serving the poor, we serve Him; BUT no amount of good works can give us that certainty of salvation that comes with faith in Jesus, the Christ, the anointed one.
...
And I am reminded, what Christians must never forget, that Christ died for us sinners. And on the cross, He said "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." It is particularly significant that John brackets the story of Mary's sign of love, not only with the threat of death, but with a sign of resurrection in the person of Lazarus who was at the dinner table with Him, who people came to see, and who the chief priests planned to kill. They came to see Lazarus and the authorities then planned to kill him because Jesus had raised him from the dead, a sign of the victory He was shortly to win for all. Therefore, looking forward with the people who welcomed Him to the city, and knowing more than they did, but not more than Mary understood in her heart, Christians can say, Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.
Edited By Siteowner
"You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."
I was taught that Jesus is always with me, even if not in the flesh, yet I often miss his presence just as I often "miss" seeing the poor around me every day, very much in the flesh and very much present. Not just the poor in money also those who are poor from lack of care by others, poor in lack of hope that they are loved by SOMEONE, especially God, and poor in just plain human contact - a smile, a touch or even a kind word.
"Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
The Anointed One is physically anointed by a woman.
"How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of Peace."
Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial."
and her reward was to be the first of us to say, "He is alive. I have seen Him!"
Thanks be to God!
About the time that the children go to bed on Sunday nights, 'Extreme Home Makeover' is on. Sometimes in my exhaustion I sit down and watch - if you don't know it, it is Habitat for Humanity on steroids.
Very deserving people receive an amazing house, and I do mean amazing, while they are away on a paid for vacation.
I love the show and hate it. I love that there are people receiving something so wonderful and lovely who are often truly amazing people. I hate it because I think of the homeless I have worked with and how many suitable houses could be made from the same resources.
As I read about the annointment I realize that I am both characters. Sometimes I am Mary able to embrace the bounty of God able to see the plenty that is around and give.
Other times I am Judas - I see the world in terms of scarcity. How could you give so much when it could have done all those other things.
Help me God to see your bounty, to see that you have given far more than we deserve or need and help me also to follow you in your generosity.
Just wondering if anyone else has problems with this Gospel especially the demonization of Judas? Sorry, I just can't get past all the anger aimed at Judas.
(ps. I'm not critizing the choice of reading just the difficulties it presents me personally).
My reflections will end up on my blog as this is the text for tonight's eucharist... so you'll see my sermon.
Reading this passage now keeps bringing me to the scent of the perfume, strong and unrelenting as it pervaded every part of the house. No one could escape it or fail to know that Mary was more than a little out of her mind, perhaps in fear and foreboding, wanting to touch, serve, and adore in life, knowing somehow that those dear feet, which had traveled so far, would soon be mangled and dead and in need of anointing.
The image of Mary at Jesus’s feet, tears and hair and perfume intertwined, somehow became personally significant several years ago when I first tried to encounter Christ in the Eucharist. I was raised in a faith tradition that did not celebrate the Eucharist and in a family that frowned upon it as Catholic superstition. When I returned to church and later, with much difficulty, found myself drawn to the Eucharist, I struggled to find a way to overcome my life-long antipathy to the person of Jesus. I don’t know how or why it happened, but at some point I began imagining myself with Mary in tears at Jesus’s feet during the Eucharistic prayers. I could not (and to some extent still cannot) visually imagine the rest of Jesus, only could feel his presence as real in a way I had never done before, at his feet as one not worthy so much as to gather the crumbs beneath the table.
Each time I read this version of the story today I want to hurl out the words and images of Judas, because I cannot read out the taint of what now sounds like virulent anti-Semitism. Yet those words and actions underscore the extravagance of Mary to the point of near insanity, since this was not just “costly” perfume but a jar that represented a small fortune. I cannot believe that Mary was oblivious to its value and mindlessly using it without thinking that it was, in effect, a way to honor and cherish Jesus in life with the means she would use to take care of his body in death. Jesus, of course, knew what was in her heart and mind, while Judas wanted to get on with the serious business of revolution without regard to hearts or minds.
But what does that have to do with me, today? I keep sensing a smell that is deep and strong, inescapable indoors, something like the way incense sometimes seems to hang forever in church. It is extravagant and, as with all extravagances, strictly speaking unnecessary. I sense it with longing and familiarity of all that I have loved in the midst of formal liturgy, especially the drama and intensity of mood and music, the motion and deep stillness of Holy Week. I will never cease to love it, but maybe it is finally time to raise my eyes higher and dare to bring Jesus with me everywhere, in ways I have barely imagined. The perfume is sweet and wonderful and full of true adoration, but it is also spread thickly partly out of fear, out of clinging to what is close and precious, not yet embracing the fullness of life that brought by the one we adore. It can be hard to move away from the intimacy of cascading silky hair and sweet perfume, buried in the poignancy of the moment of touching the divine. Stepping up and away means facing the possibility of empty air and desolation and the finality of death. But Mary went on to face it bravely, looking up at the foot of the Cross, and, for that, was one of the first to see Him risen. I pray that I will find even a measure of both her devotion and her courage.
I came to know Christ through the Gospel of John. Now I am wary of that Gospel because of its anti-semitism. I know that is anachronistic, but it has been used --and Judas' betrayal has been used to highlight the differences between us to further evil intentions.
I am having lunch with my rabbi friend today. I am caught with the agony of the betrayal and what it has done to the Jewish people in the name of Christ.
The question "How to deal with the guilt of the shoah in the face of Holy Week?" comes to mind with this reading.
And the other question that the passage raises for me is "How often do I miss the basic gifts of people when I am looking for more substantive responses?"
Thanks, Jake
The rules forbid her even to TOUCH the Rabbi, but she transformed a "sinful" touch into a blessing by loving Him – a transformation totally ignored, unrecognized, and discredited by the rule-keepers.
Pure, organic nard...or, as they say at L'Oreal, "Because you're worth it."
"But you do not always have me."
Many memories spring up of relationships with people no longer living, of missed opportunities, and of achievements whose time is now past. There are some regrets, but also much, much value in the remembering. The times I was extravagant in relationship and in accomplishment are the times that hold the most value in my memory.
Since so much of my life is now past, sometimes it is tempting to think of all those persons and projects as profound losses. Sometimes it is difficult to invest in new relationships and to dare new achievements. But Mary's extravagance with the oil she had purchased for his death (was she trying to ward off the impending loss?, or had she accepted it and come to the conclusion that if she was going to honor him, she'd better do it now?) begs the question -
"Why wait?!"
I could use the money I am going to spend on my upcoming vacation for something more altruistic, I suppose, or store it "in my purse". But instead, I am getting really excited about enfleshing some new relationships and having a new adventure. It's important for me to celebrate life while I have it and not to let the prospect of the inevitable losses that lie ahead get in the way. Why should I ever hold back and, like Judas, rob everyone including myself of the vitality of "now".
Carpe diem.
"Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
Katharine took the money from the emergency treasury and anointed a commission to save The Episcopal Chruch Diocese of San Joaquin.
Quickly the Remaining Episcopal Church houses were filled with the fragrance of the perfume of hope.
But some of The Network Bishops and some of the Bishops from The Global South (the ones that had already betrayed Katharine), said, "Why was this money not given to the poor?" (They said this not because they cared about the poor, but because they were thiefs; they kept a large common purse and used to steal what was put into it).
Jesus was thought to be saying, "Leave her alone. She provided the emergency money so that you might share it to honor and respect the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but ALL of YOU didn't always have access to worshipping me FREELY at the former Episcopal Church Diocese of San Joaquin."
Having just read Elaine Pagels' "Reading Judas: The Gospel of Judas and the Shaping of Christianity" I think he might be getting a bit of a bum rap in this story! But I do love the idea of radical hospitality that Mary shows.
Would I be so generous with my worldly goods? A year's salary worth? Hmmmm...
-Jonathan
Mat 19:21 Jesus said unto him, If thou wouldest be perfect, go, sell that which thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.
Sounds as though Judas was following him.
All I see is the alabaster jar. I don't know if it's empty or full.
Removed the editorial parenthetical commentary by John, about Judas. What is left is what any of us might be: jealous of the attention of someone thinking of something wonderful that leaves me feeling less, not valuable, so I strike out, try to put her down, put her in her place - shouldn't that have been used for...?
Much later in the day: what if Lent were spent playing instead of being so earnest, working so hard to find connection with God. Realize that this is what my Lent has turned into without my knowing it - have written more just for the sake of writing, drawn, taken photos, have a series of paintings working. Never has my inner artist gotten so much play.
No need to be jealous of others.
Lois
I looked up "nard" to better understand this passage and was intrigued to find that in the Song of Songs, it represented the love of the bride and her acknowledgement of her bridegroom.
When I reread the passage with this in mind I was struck by 2 things:
Mary is offering her most precious possession to Jesus in an act of humble, submissive adoration.
She is also acknowledging the "marriage" of her soul to the being that is the Christ before the other disciples.
I feel compelled to ponder upon my own lack of willingness to offer my most precious possessions to glorify Jesus and I wonder if I am able or even willing to see the Bridegroom in his loving anticipation at this time in my life.
Perhaps I too often self-righteously advocate for the poor (through my daily work) without realizing that it is not only OK but perfectly appropriate and necessary to "hold back" some of my most precious things (time, love, service?) to honor the Christ as well.
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.
Yes -- "foolish" generosity is loved by God. What a message for those of us (me) who spend too much time calculating generosity vs security.
Thanks, Jake.
"You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."
This was the sentence that reached into my soul - a reminder that after this week, we must remember to concentrate of the life of Christ - not his death.
This has been a truly interesting season for me. Much of it ha been because of sharing fellowship with an old friend that left the RCC just after Easter this year. This is having quite an impact. Best to save more on that for another time.
Peace to all - and thank you Jake. Continuing prayers to you and your family.
As I left mass tonight, I reflected on a homily that asked me to explore the ways I see the expresion of love by others, often greater and more humble, at once, than my own offerings.
I think we can expunge the "because he was a thief" stuff as foolishness thrown at Judas to justify small minds(sorry).Removing that sentence would make many more than Thomas Jefferson happy, and would direct our thoughts back to the center of the issue.
I learned at 13 not to wait to make up with someone because he might be dead before you got around to it.
Mary's courage is to remember to give everything now.
What am I waiting for?
That said, I think the parenthetical diss of Judas is bogus -- maybe my Jesus Christ Superstar generation is showing here.
Hi Jake--Hope you are doing OK.
I had to do the HHG on this one. Read aloud twice with hands on head. Read aloud twice with hands on heart. Read aloud twice with hands on gut.
These two passages spoke through all three.
"The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume."
"...YOU (emphasis added) do not always have me."
I feel that God is saying seek him, anoint him, adore him, with the same heart he has for us--extravagant, abundant. Perfume the air with this love the way Mary does.
If we wish to always have Jesus with us (...you do not always have me.") we need the extravagant, beautiful, abundant and adoring heart.
"You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."
This is what jumped out at me.
My mother, who is 94, won't be on this earth forever. I am struggling terribly right now, economically, to be sure I am available to take her to the doctor and do things she needs. But I also rescue animals which is very time consuming work. I have tried to balance these two things... my mother (who has no other family) and my life (also one who has no other family) and the rescue animals some of which will die if I do not act.
If I had to rewrite this passage to reflect what this said to me:
"You always have the [animals that need rescue] with you, but you do not always have me (my mom)."
I need to spend more time with my mom.
I cannot imagine a time without Jesus.
I have been fortunate with a great gift of faith and while there were days never have I doubted.
I am (at least one) where I know God has carried me when I could not do it by myself. It is too bad I still have been unable to learn that lesson once and for all.
I glad to see that this 'Gospel troubles others especially in terms of it's anti-semetism. Some occured to me after reading Muthah's post. When we read this and as with many of places in the good book we must remember who the authors are, who they're audiences were and what was there motive for telling the story the way they did. John is highly metaphorical (at least for me). Judas might not represent the actual person but a personality trait/behavior. The woman might again might represent another personality trait/behavior.
There is also as John Jullian points out a social taboo addressed. A woman interacting with a man not of here own family. There is so much to think about.
I guess what disturbs me most is when people look at John's account as historical fact more than an account to guide us to look inward and then outward.
I hope that makes sense.
Ps. Rev Lois, I was very struck by what you said. How often we say to ourselves, after the fact, "why didn't I do that, or think of that, or get that gift (when I say how a gift made a person feel).
What a beautiful – but challenging – passage.
The words "You always have the poor with you" jumped out at me quickly. I was searching through the passage for something to meditate on, and I was beginning to get disappointed. I was definitely having those "Oh well – maybe next time" moments until I found the profundity of that last sentence.
"You always have the poor with you" isn't just a defense of Mary; it's an extraordinary hook! Images of men and women who have come up to me in the past few weeks came to mind hazily. There wasn't anything too precise except for some coins. I've definitely got to be more generous. I am overcoming my cold indifference to poverty in Dickensian style, but I'm still stingy and cautious to a great extent.
This caution isn't entirely unfounded, however. I was struck by the words of Judas – truly they sound compassionate and reasonable enough. He's the proverbial "wolf in sheep's clothing," the person who talks of giving to the poor while keeping it for him/herself. I think there's some real jealousy issues underneath the greed, also. Whether or not St. John's parenthetical advice is accurate is largely irrelevant. Judas is taken aback because Mary has center stage; she's the one who is closest to Jesus at this particular point, and she's gaining "brownie points," if we want to demystify it to that extent.
Also, the latter half of the last sentence reads, "but you do not always have me." It seems as if there's a little bit of unease evident in Jesus's statement. It's reminiscent of Gethsemane. Here I'm struck by the sheer weight of Christ's simultaneous divinity and humanity. There's such an interplay between those two elements. (Notice I didn't say "halves." I don't think it's a matter of 50+50=100 but rather 100+100.) I think he's nervous.
Back to my earlier points, I am often Judas: jealous of the success – mostly of the relationships – of others when I should be happy for them.
Both of those men were playing the cosmic game; light and darkness swirling inside of them hung in the balance and competed for stage time. Judas and Peter both betrayed Jesus in some way – as we so often do ourselves. Things turned out a bit differently for them, though, as Peter's reaction to his own shortcomings changed his life from there on out. My priest told me that "recovery is always where the action is." How true.
It is how we react to our own Judas/Peter moments that defines us. Prevention is preferable but often elusive, so we must go forward with the conviction to get back up and get back in the game whenever we fall. We've been given a hook, after all. "[We] always have the poor with [us]" – all those impoverished in mind, body, or spirit.
The beggar and the lonely kid sitting by himself at lunch have desperate need of the extravagant love that Mary exemplifies in this story. The Resurrected Christ is with us always, and we must know him and make him known.
I read these late at night, but I appreciate the chance to sit still and reflect. This passage is probably understood more by my husband. While my grandmother still lived on her own, my husband (one his way home from Ventura) would stop in Bakersfield to visit with my grandmother, at the time close to 90 years old. He still had a two hour drive home, but would stop and have dinner with her. I was always amazed, since she was MY grandmother. He would say, "She will not always be here." He enjoyed talking to her and I know she looked forward to his visits. He continued this thought even when she moved in with my mother who lives here where we live and would ask me when I had last seen her. I was with her when she passed away several years ago at 98. My husband now asks me when was the last time I talked to my mother, my sister, or my aunt. Since he travels, he sees my sister a lot more than I do, but will say, "You should call your sister." He lives this passage in showing those we love just how important they are in our life.
He realizes more than I that everyday problems will still be with us, but that those we love will not and should be important in our lives. A cousin, my sister, and a friend are all dealing with breast cancer and are younger than I am (all are doing quite well), but it makes me realize just how fragile life is and how I need to make the extra effort to embrace them.
I have been trying to use this Lenten season to clear my head and cleanse my heart. I am trying to discern what we (my husband and I) are *supposed* to do. Where are we supposed to go? With whom are we supposed to work? What is our calling? Has our calling changed in the last five years?
This passage helped me realize something. I have been so focused on discerning where we are supposed to go and what we are supposed to do that I have, perhaps, forgotten to stay focused on who is at the center of it all.
There needs to be less in the way of I, me and we and more He. My prayers will likely shift this week somewhat.
Just as a note of interest, spikenard essential oil will cost you about $89 for 50 ml. Frankincense in its most used form will run you $2-3/oz as does myrrh.
No real information of use here, but I was a little surprised to see how much nard is.
This has always been a difficult passage for me, since I'm very practical, and the gift is extravagant (should I mention I'm also my church's treasurer?).
The teaching here has a Buddhist element; Jesus is warning us about a life out of balance. A life of total extravagance was well understood to be wrong, but Jesus warns us that a life of total practicality is without heart, without love, and will fall short of the Kingdom.
I'm coming very late to this, but, I suppose, my understanding is not so much one of charity vs. piety, or the importance of God over Man (after all, God placed loved of neighbor right up there), but "the poor" vs. "me."
Jesus was one of the poor. But it is very easy to give to "the poor," to be concerned about "the poor." We have entire industries we call charities founded on "the poor." What is a challenge is helping each "me" we come into contact with. "The poor" is a noble, struggling, misused underdog -- "me" is often arrogant, lazy, deceitful, plodding, stupid.
You will have "the poor" a hundred, a thousand years from now, but "me" is only here for this moment of this lifetime.
12 Visitors Online
Commenting by HaloScan
