You Don't Know the Cost

This scene is early in Jesus’ ministry.  He’s eating with a Pharisee and we don’t know where the Pharisee stands in regard to Jesus. We don’t know if he likes what Jesus is doing or doesn’t like it. We don’t know why he invited Jesus…was it to trap him or just to get to know him and see what this guy was really all about?  

The Pharisee, named Simon, invites Jesus to dinner and the scripture tells us they were reclining…that tells us this was a formal dinner—maybe a sabbath meal—so Simon would have or should have prepared the very best for his guests. Now, as part of this formal meal it would have been customary to wash his guests’ feet—well, not him, but a servant, and the host would have greeted his guests with a kiss and would have anointed their foreheads with oil.  It showed hospitality and respect.  

Imagine it in the modern day—you invite over someone of prestige, not a friend or a colleague, but an uppity up—say, the mayor, and when he gets there, he knocks and instead of opening the door you just show, “it’s open.”  He comes in, you say a quick hello and then you leave him to himself.  You don’t offer to take his coat, or show him a place to sit, or offer to get him anything to drink.  

Now, is that the end of the world? No.  But is it really bad manners?  Yes. Maybe not with friends or family, but with a prestigious stranger?  Yes. Simon missed the mark here.  Nevertheless, Jesus was very gracious—he just let it go—he sat on the cushion to eat with his dirty feet and dirty hands.  Maybe he gave Simon the benefit of the doubt and just assumed he was distracted.  I mean, everyone in the room knows it’s weird, but they just played along.  

That is, until this woman comes in—this sinful woman.  We don’t know what she did, only that she’s a sinner. Some people assume she’s a prostitute but the scripture never says that. She isn’t named. So she could be any woman who has committed any number of sins.  She comes in and goes straight to Jesus and begins washing his feet—not with a bucket of water, but with her tears. And not using a towel, but instead using her hair.  She’s washing his dirty, dusty, unwashed feet with her tears and her hair.  Now that may take us back a little, but in the first century it would have taken everyone back a lot.  You see—women wore their hair covered—all the time. and the only ones to see their hair were their husbands.  To uncover your hair was a sensuous thing and there she did it in front of Jesus and everybody.  and then she caressed Jesus’ feet as she wiped away her tears. The scene has just gone from awkward to a bit scandalous.  

Let’s go back to our modern scene—our mayor is sitting awkwardly holding his coat in his lap, with nothing to drink and this woman comes in and pours him her finest wine, takes his coat, and then begins massaging his shoulders.  To say it simply, things are getting a little weird.  Taking his coat would have been one thing but massaging his shoulders pushes the boundaries of decorum. 

So the host intervenes, “Wait a minute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!  How dare you?!” 

So Jesus shifts the conversation. He tries a back door approach to help Simon understand what is happening. He asks this question:  There are two debtors—one who owes 50 denarii and one who owes 500.  (a denarii was worth about a day’s wages…so one owes 2 months wages and one owes a year and a half…say, one owes about $4500 and one owes about $60,000)—both are forgiven their debts….who do you think is more grateful?  

Simon answers easily…the one who owed more.  Of course.  But Jesus’ question wasn’t really who was more grateful….the question was actually who showed more agape—who showed more selfless, abundant love?  The one who had the greater debt.  Who showed greater, more abundant, selfless love?  The one who had the greater debt.

Ok, now, look at this woman….she has washed my feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair, and anointed my feet with oil.  You’re scandalized and insulted, but look at what she did…what did she do?  

Do you know? What did she do?  She showed great agape love.  Simon, you’re so consumed with what you know she did in the past that you can’t see who she is now.  You know she broke the law and you have that marked in stone above her name.  Her sin seems to trump her person for you.  But you know what?  You’ve missed what has happened…along the way, when you weren’t watching, she repented and has been forgiven…it’s already happened, her sins are in the past, washed away by the forgiveness she received.  Today, she’s not earning my blessing. She’s not making the sins of the past right, she's saying thank you….wholly and fully with a sign of God’s love. 

How many of us have been a bit like Simon?  We know the sins of the past and for some people that’s all we see…their record of wrongs. So when they claim their faith or sing praise to the Lord, we look on with disdain thinking, “mmm…hmmmm, how dare you?  I know what you did. You’re a sinner.”

And Jesus comes in gently and encourages us to look….not just with our eyes but with our hearts.  Do you see?  Do you know?  Their faith and their praises…that’s because of gratitude.  They aren’t pleading for forgiveness, they’ve already received it and are saying thank you.  You’re hung up on what once was and what they did back when, but they aren’t who they were.  Today they’re redeemed. They’re forgiven. They’re saved.  Don’t stand with scorn. Stand with praise.  And know that if you’re burdened by your own sins.  If your heart is heavy with shame, there is forgiveness for you too.  You don’t have to earn it.  You just have to claim you want it and I’ll forgive you.  

After explaining things to Simon, Jesus turns to the woman and says, “You’re forgiven. You’ve been saved—you’ve been redeemed and made whole. Now, go in peace.”  In essence, he’s confirming, you really are forgiven, don’t worry about what this guy says, or the next, or the next. People may try and hold the sins of the past against you. they may not want to see who you’ve become. But don’t look to them, look to me and trust, you are truly forgiven. You are redeemed and made whole. Now, go in peace.”  

And the same is true for us, once we’ve been forgiven, we find our new identity in Christ.  It doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t matter if they’re still keeping tally of the past.  Jesus tells us we are forgiven.  We can go in peace.  Thanks be to God.  

The Priceless Gift

We find this particular passage 3 places in the Gospels.  We have it here in Matthew, in Mark, and in John, always placed right before Judas’ accepts payment for betraying Jesus and Jesus’ imminent death.  That may not seem like a very important piece, but often we find a varied order within the different gospels, but here, we do not. And often there are parallels in the synoptic gospels, Mark, Matthew, and Luke, but not always with John.  But again, we have 2 of the synoptic in line with John.  Those pieces sort of underscore the importance of this story.  Mark and John add a couple of pieces of information that help illuminate this scripture. 

·         The oil used was Nard, a kind of ointment found in the Himalayas that is very hard to get, which in turn makes it very expensive.

·          Mark and John say it was worth 300 denarii, nearly a year’s salary. 

·         John identifies the woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, the man Jesus raised from the dead.

·         John tells of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet, not just his head, and using her hair to ekmasso, meaning wipe, them. 

o        Ekmasso is also the word John uses to talk about Jesus wiping the disciples’ feet after he washes them at the last supper, an event that comes after this one. 

Now that we have a few more details, let’s look at this story as a whole.  This woman, whom we now know to be Mary of Mary and Martha, Mary the sister of Lazarus, Mary the one who journeyed with Jesus. Mary the disciples who sat at Jesus’ feet. Mary the one who pled for Jesus to save her brother and saw him brought back to life.  Mary, approaches Jesus with her white opaque jar of expensive nard.  She pours it onto Jesus’ head. She doesn’t dab it, she doesn’t brush it, she doesn’t touch it to his head.  She pours it out onto his head.  There’s something kind of crazy in what she does here.  It’s not subtle. It’s not dainty. It’s not ceremonious, not in a reformed, play-by-the-rules kind of sense.  It’s over the top.  It’s lavish.  It’s kind of wasteful. 

                I mean, think about it.  How does oil work?  A little goes a long way.  If I pour a tablespoon of oil into my hands, what happens?  It starts to run all over!  I can try to rub it in, but it’s going to be going down my arms, and dripping onto the floor.  And that’s just a tablespoon! Imagine Mary pouring a pound of oil on Jesus’ head! It’s not just that it’s expensive oil, but she’s not even using it right!! Mary’s making a mess. It really is no wonder the disciples objected. I mean, who wouldn’t?!

                The disciples start grumbling about how wasteful she is. That’s expensive nard.  It could bring in a lot of money. 300 denarii. A days wage was about 1 denarii. So 300 was nearly a year’s worth. You could do a lot of good with a year’s wage and her Mary is wasting it and letting it run onto the floor! Some might laud the disciples for being so wise and compassionate, but many suggest they were just posturing. That makes good sense to me. 

                Think of it this way.  If you have a fine wine, or an expensive champagne, or pricy perfume, what do you do with it?  You save it.  You hold onto and wait for the perfect time with the best people to share it.  Obviously that’s what Mary had done. This oil is worth a year’s worth of wages. It’s not something she came by easily.  She didn’t save her money, she wouldn’t have been allowed to work as a woman.  So, a man in her family would have had to earn the money for it while  he was paying for the family to get by.  That kind of money would probably have taken years to earn.  Maybe it was her grandfather, or her father, or her brother, or maybe all of them saved for generations to have this money. And then when they had the 300 denarii all collected together, someone went and bought this oil. 

                Nard was a special oil. Something that would have been reserved for sacred events.  It would have been used to anoint a king at his coronation, or consecrate a priest for his work, or to heal a sick relative, or to anoint a loved one who had died.  It would have been used for special times only and could have been stretched to serve a lot of purposes and be a part of many sacred events.   And yet, Mary used it for this one event, for this one person.  In knowing that, we have to ask what might have compelled her to use it now, and use it so lavishly. She didn’t save it for any other times. She just poured it out over Jesus. 

                The fact that Mary lavishes this oil on Jesus indicates that she sees him as someone special.  He has to be someone who might understand the nature of her special gift.  And the way she anoints him so extravagantly, so carelessly, indicates that she wants to convey the enormity of her appreciation for him and she pours out the nard. 

                In looking at Mary, I can’t help but ask myself, on whom would I pour a year’s worth of wages?  On whom would you pour out a year’s worth of wages?  Not dole it out.  Not share it. Not savor it.  Pour it out—wrecklessly and wastefully.  What might possibly possess someone to give so much without a second thought? 

                Would you do it for

·         Healing?

·         Saving you?

·         Sparing a relationship?

·         Buying you a house?

·         Sticking by you at your worst?

·         Loving you no matter what?

·         Saving your brother?

·         Bringing your loved one back to life?

Who’s worth this? Who’s touched your heart and life so powerfully that you would devote a year’s worth of salary in just a few short moments.

Maybe Mary was crazy. That’s what everyone else thought. 

Maybe she saw Jesus as king, but people don’t often have a deep affection or a king—we honor kings because of obligation, not desire. 

Maybe it was something more. 

Jesus had to have given something invaluable.  In those terms, her act wasn’t wasteful. It was appropriate.  Jesus acknowledges that she gets it.  He doesn’t reprimand her or suggest she be a little less excessive.  Instead he says she’s done a good thing.

But I think even Jesus’ comments make it too easy to skim past the true depth of her actions.  There’s potency in their relationship that could only be understood if we know her or her story.  In a way we might be drawn to ask ourselves if we have allowed Jesus to do an invaluable work in our lives.

Have you lt him step in to save you in a way that no one else can?

Have you allowed him to heal you?

To free you?

To forgive you?

In some ways, preaching a whole series on forgiveness feels a little redundant.  But we often struggle to forgive.  Sometimes we aren’t ready.  Sometimes we aren’t willing. Sometimes we can only do a little at a time.  Sometimes we aren’t aware.  Sometimes our hands are so full o the other seemingly good things we’ve been collecting that we don’t have the ability to hold that one thing we’ve always been looking for. 

To preach a series on forgiveness is to highlight how necessary it is in our lives. It’s to highlight that it’s a process.  It’s to highlight that God isn’t done with us yet.  And it’s to highlight that though we may have picked up some pretty things along the way, there is nothing like finding what we’ve always needed and wanted. 

And once we find the most sacred of gifts. Once we experience the greatest blessings of Christ, we want to thank him. And our thanks becomes lavish.  To others, it might seem ridiculous.  The time we spend, the money we give, the devotion we have, cannot be explained in words, but only understood through experience. And the gifts we give, the thanks we lavish on, become our priceless response to Christ’s invaluable work in our lives. 

This morning, for our time of prayer, I would invite you to take some time to pray.  Maybe you’ll pray for healing, or for forgiveness, or for new life, or for hope. Maybe you’ll pray the same prayer you’ve been praying this last month.  As you pray, I would encourage you to ask for the courage to give up the broken things, no matter how pretty they might be, so that you can take hold of the true gift Christ is offering.  If you would like a symbol and reminder, we have shells here at the altar and a basket to pass to anyone who would like to stay in their seat.