Philippians 3.4b-14, John 12.1-8
The Fifth Sunday of Lent, 7 April 2019
Eldroth, Keasden
Isn't it interesting how the purest acts of devotion so often end up causing controversy? I'm thinking of the story of an Anglican priest in Dover who provided communion for a group of Albanian asylum-seekers recently arrived in the town, and found himself in the eye of a public storm, being reviled for it. And of Mother Teresa who, when she first began caring for Calcutta's poorest, sickest people, came in for some fierce criticism for sullying her hands by contact with such unsavoury folk. You could probably think of stories of people you've heard of, or seen, taken to task when they thought they were simply being faithful to God by caring for others.
Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, knew what it meant to be caught up in the criticism of others for simply showing devotion to her Lord.
We hear about her three times in the gospels. The first time Jesus visits her home and she sits at his feet, listening intently to his teachings. Only to find her sister Martha taking her to task for failing to help out with the housework.
In Mary's second appearance, Jesus returns because the sisters have called him, to tell him Lazarus is dying. Jesus takes his time reaching them, and in the meantime the brother does die. Like the first time, Mary sits at Jesus' feet, but this time it’s Mary who takes Jesus to task, saying, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Jesus' reaction to this sets in motion a chain of events which result in him performing a resurrection, and stirring up a hornets nest which wouldn't settle, didn't settle until the day he died.
The third time we meet Mary is in the story we heard this evening. This takes place not long after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. At a party in their home, in Jesus' honour, Mary again sits at his feet, and pours ointment on them, expensive, beautiful, plentiful, perfume. Only to be harshly criticised by Jesus' treasurer Judas for such an extravagantly wasteful act.
There's nothing in any of these stories to suggest that Mary was ever put off Jesus because of the dramas which seemed to rage around her every time she went near him. Her devotion to him seemed very simple, very profound, and very unshakeable.
And Jesus always defended her: "leave her alone," he told the critical Judas; "Mary is doing the better thing," he told the complaining Martha. Jesus clearly listened to her, as Lazarus’ resurrection testifies.
This Lent, Mary models to us someone who seems able to put Jesus first, to the exclusion of any concerns about what other people are thinking or saying about her, without ever worrying that she may be doing the wrong thing. As far as Jesus is concerned, she never is.
The other people in these stories model the kind of behaviour which I admit are more familiar to me. That time Martha complained she was doing all the housework, Jesus put his finger on her real problem: "Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things: there is need of only one thing.” [2] And Judas' problem was that he was so obsessed by money he'd lost his perspective on everything else going on around him. He couldn't see the beauty in Mary's action: to him it was a financial transaction, and a bad one at that.
Sadly, worries and distractions, unhealthy obsessions with wealth and prestige, are still with us today. Certainly with me - let's be honest, with most of us, much of the time. They're the reason why people like Mother Teresa are thought of as being very good but very strange, or that priest in Dover is regarded as a troublemaker rather than a faithful follower of Jesus.
We might spend what's left of Lent reflecting on what causes us to be wrapped up in these anxieties. Those worries and obsessions which are so often tied up in our need to define who we are - as against who other people are.
There’s Martha saying, "I'm not like Mary, idling around. Look at me, being busy, being useful.” And there’s Judas saying, "I'm not like Mary, wasting all that money. If it was up to me, I'd do something far better with it."
And there’s each of us, also defining ourselves in opposition to others:
"I'm not like him”, we say; "I wouldn't do what she’s doing”;
"I wouldn't eat what they’re eating” … “I wouldn't wear what they’re wearing” … “We are who we are because we’re not like them”.
What Mary teaches us is that we can step outside this destructive framework of identity. She defines herself in another way. Or rather, she allows herself to be defined ... by Jesus.
Rather than say, "I'm not like them," Mary says, "I want to be like him”.
Rather than say, "I wouldn't go where they go," Mary says, "I want to be where he is”.
And rather than say, "I wouldn't do what she does,” Mary says, "I want to do what he does".
Mary has learned about grace. She's not in competition with anyone else. Rather, she has learned to simply accept God's free gift of love and attention to her. Jesus came to Mary freely, openly, with no strings attached. She simply reached out and received him. Every time.
Unworried about the consequences, not distracted by how others would see her, free of anxieties and unhealthy obsessions; encouraged by Christ not discouraged, released, not cruelly bound - Mary seems almost otherworldly to us, caught up as we are in our anxious obsessions.
But she wasn't otherworldly. She was a sister, friend, ordinary woman. Who Jesus came to. In precisely the same way as Jesus comes to us.
Notes
[1] This is an altered version of the talk previously preached as Mary - Innocent Provocateur at Holy Trinity, Wavertree in 2003. The source for the Dover priest story has not been recorded.
[2] Luke 10.41, 42
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