"Anointed" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday April 6 – 5^th Sunday in Lent
Scriptures:  Isaiah 43:16-21 and John12:1-8


Six days before the Passover celebration, Jesus and his disciples return to the village of Bethany.  It wasn’t too many weeks ago that Jesus had been there, summoned by his friends Mary and Martha, summoned because their brother and Jesus’s friend Lazarus had been sick, on the verge of death; and by the time Jesus arrived in Bethay on that last trip, Lazarus had already died.  On that last visit, Jesus had wept with Mary and Martha for the loss of his friend; but then had ordered the tomb to be opened, despite the stench that would be expected of a 3-day-old body; he prayed to the one whom he called Father; he cried out loudly, commanding Lazarus to come out of the tomb; and then Lazarus stepped forth.

We aren’t told what happened next, but I can only imagine the celebration that would have erupted in that moment.  The brother, the friend, who had died was now alive again.  I can imagine celebration and feasting and tears of mourning turned into tears of gratitude.  I can also imagine maybe just a little bit of fear tinging the celebration.  After all, we can understand death and the finality of death, but what if death is no longer final?  Has the earth’s axis been tipped a little bit off-kilter in that moment?

And now, some weeks later, Jesus and his disciples have returned to Bethany, returned to the house of Mary and Martha, and yes, of Lazarus too, now able to receive guests in his own home.

They throw a feast to welcome Jesus and his followers, a grand celebration.  Not only are they welcoming a friend to their home, but they are also celebrating a brother restored to the family.

Martha is serving the guests, but partway through the meal, Mary enters the room where guests are reclining on cushions around a low table.  Mary is holding a box in her hands, and a silence falls on the room when she enters and falls to her knees at the feet of Jesus.  Into that silence, she opens the box, and the heavy smell of spicy perfume fills the air, tickling everyone’s nostrils.  A pound of precious perfumed oil, a value of a year’s salary, held in Mary’s hands.

In the silence of the room, Mary pours the precious oil over Jesus’s feet, massaging his feet, massaging his lower legs, and then she takes the veil off her hair, loosens her hair from its braid, and she uses her long loose hair to wipe away the excess oil.  All the time, she is saying, over and over again, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” tears of gratitude mingled with her words.

The silence is broken by Judas, complaining that the money spent on the oil could have been better used elsewhere.  Jesus rebukes Judas.  “You are free to do what you want with your own money. There will always be poor people around you to share your money with.  Are you able to be as generous as Mary is?  Mary has chosen to use this oil as a gift of gratitude.”
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Six days before the Passover celebration, Jesus and his disciples return to the village of Bethany.  It wasn’t too many weeks ago that Jesus had been there, summoned by his friends Mary and Martha, summoned because their brother and Jesus’s friend Lazarus had been sick, on the verge of death; and on that visit Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead.

Now, some weeks later, Jesus and his disciples are back, attending a celebration feast at the home of Mary, Martha, and yes, Lazarus.  Martha is serving the guests, and Lazarus is hosting, and Mary… Mary, part-way through the meal, enters the room where the guests are reclining at the low table, carrying a box.

As silence falls on the room, she opens the box she is carrying, and the heavy smell of spicy perfume fills the air, tickling everyone’s nostrils.  A pound of precious perfumed oil, a value of a year’s salary, held in Mary’s hands.  This is perfume fit for the palace of a king, not a village home on the outskirts of Jerusalem.

A gasp rises, as Mary falls to the floor and pours this precious oil over the feet of Jesus.  Oil this expensive should be reserved for anointing a king.  It has been almost 600 years since there was a true king over Israel or Judah – the current kings like Herod are only puppets of the Roman Empire.  The kings of ancient times were anointed by the royal prophets at the time of their coronation with oil like this, and here a whole pound of it is being poured over the feet of Jesus.  Yet it isn’t a royal prophet doing the pouring – it is just Mary, our friend and neighbour.  What kind of topsy turvy kingdom is Jesus being anointed for, where the precious oil of kingship is poured over his feet by a woman in a small village?

The next day, Jesus and his friends are going to leave the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, and travel the short distance to Jerusalem. When they get there, Jesus is going to ride into the royal city like a king, but he is going to be riding a donkey rather than a war horse.

Six days later, Jesus is going to be crowned and raised up on a throne, but the crown that he will wear is made of thorns, not of gold and jewels; and the throne that he sits on will be a cross.

The king of a topsy-turvy kingdom indeed; one where the last shall be first and the first shall be last, and Mary offers the oil of anointing.

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Six days before the Passover celebration, Jesus and his disciples return to the village of Bethany.  It wasn’t too many weeks ago that Jesus had been there, summoned by his friends Mary and Martha, summoned because their brother and Jesus’s friend Lazarus had been sick, on the verge of death; and on that visit Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead.

Now, some weeks later, Jesus and his disciples are back, attending a celebration feast, and partway through the feast, Mary enters the room carrying a box filled with expensive perfumed oil, made of pure nard – oil that, in the original Greek is “myron,” the same word that is the origin for myrrh.  Is there any world in which Mary’s anointing oil is the same myrrh that was presented to Jesus at his birth?

The oil clings to Jesus’s body, and six days later, as he is dying, nailed to the cross, the smell of Mary’s extravagant gift reaches his nose, and the reminder of the love that surrounds him fills his lungs and comforts him in his dying breaths.

Eight days from now, the women will visit his tomb, carrying myrrh and other spices to prepare his body for the grave.  The grave will be empty, there will be no body for them to prepare, but that is OK, as today, Mary has already prepared his body for the tomb.

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Six days before the Passover celebration, Jesus and his disciples return to the village of Bethany.  It wasn’t too many weeks ago that Jesus had been there, summoned by his friends Mary and Martha, summoned because their brother and Jesus’s friend Lazarus had been sick, on the verge of death; and on that visit Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead.

Part-way through the feast, this feast that celebrates new life and restoration and friendship, Mary enters the room, carrying a box of expensive, precious perfumed oil, the value of which would cost a full year’s salary.  Oil that was imported from a far-off land.

Silence fills the room as she falls to her feet.  The air that had been filled with conversation is now filled with the heavy, spicy scent of the oil.  All of the guests watch, mesmerized, as she pours out this extravagant gift over the feet of Jesus; and as they watch, she removes the veil from her hair, loosens it from its braid, and tenderly, vulnerably, uses her hair to wipe the feet of her Lord.

What does Mary know about Jesus in this moment?  He is her dear friend, but he also raised her brother from the dead.  He said to Mary and Martha, at that time, “I am the resurrection and the life; everyone who believes in me will not die but have eternal life.”

Does Mary know, as she pours out her oil on the feet of Jesus, that she is holding the feet of the one who brings new life, not only to her brother but to the whole world?  Does Mary know that that she is anointing Jesus, not only for his death, but also for his resurrection?  Does Mary know that, in that moment, she is holding the feet of the I AM who created the heavens and the earth, she is holding the feet of the I AM who led the people to freedom, that she is holding the feet of the I AM who is always doing a new thing in the world?

Does Mary know that her oil is not only an outpouring of gratitude, is not only the anointing oil of a king, is not only preparing Jesus’s body for the tomb, but is also an act of worship, offering her best to her Lord and her God?

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Six days before the Passover celebration, Jesus and his disciples return to the village of Bethany.  Six days before his death; eight days before his resurrection, Mary kneels down, and offers the very best of who she is to Jesus.

 

 

“Anointed”

Lauren Wright Pittman

Used with Permission

"On Citizenship and Ambassadors" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday March 30 – 4^th Week in Lent
Scripture Readings:  2 Corinthians 5:16-21


Since the middle of January, international diplomacy has been a hot-button issue.  It has led the newscasts, it has been all over social media, it has shaped our shopping habits, it has led to some funny and thought-provoking comedy across the whole comedy spectrum, from political cartoons to stand-up to memes.

We’ve also had some conversations about the international diplomatic situation at our Wednesday morning bible study, as we’ve been reading the provoking words of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount.  That is a sermon for another Sunday, but what would Jesus, who once said “if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also, and if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, give your coat as well, and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you” – what would this Jesus have to say about the current trade war?

Nationalism and national identity was a thing too, back in the days of Jesus and the Apostle Paul, only then it was talked about in terms of Empire rather than countries.  Don’t worry – I’m not going to stand here and lecture on the rise and fall of the Roman Empire – that would put even the history buffs to sleep.  But the basic strategy of the Roman Empire was to expand their territory, and with each tribe or city that they took over, rather than enslaving the people who lived there, they offered them Roman Citizenship. It’s quite a canny strategy if you think about it, because if you’re “one of us” then you aren’t going to be fighting against us.  And citizenship was passed from parent to child, regardless of where you lived.

It wasn’t completely egalitarian.  Slaves were still slaves and therefore ineligible for citizenship.  Women were able to be citizens, but their citizenship came with different rights than them men – for example, they weren’t allowed to vote or hold public office.  And citizenship came not only with rights but also with responsibilities, and if you didn’t uphold your responsibilities, you could lose your citizenship, even if you still lived in the land under Roman control.

So, turning to the Apostle Paul, the author of 2 Corinthians, a letter he wrote to the very early church in the city of Corinth.  Paul, originally named Saul, was not only a devout Palestinian Jew, a religious leader of his time and place from the Pharisee denomination, but he was also a Roman Citizen.  There’s a story from towards the end of the book of Acts where Paul is arrested, and when he mentions that he is a citizen, his captors panic, as they realize that he is entitled to certain treatment as a citizen.

But two weeks ago, when we read part of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, he made reference to citizenship when he wrote that our citizenship is in heaven.  Even though Roman citizenship was the most valued status in the world he was living in, he wrote that we have an even more precious and valuable status, as citizens in God’s kingdom.  That supersedes any earthly loyalties.

And then today, in another letter from Paul, this time to the Corinthians, he takes it one step further.  We aren’t just citizens of God’s kingdom, but we are ambassadors of God’s kingdom.  We represent God’s presence as we move about in the world.  It’s almost like we are the literal body of Christ, or something!

Just for fun, this week I looked up the job description of an ambassador.  If the government of Canada were to appoint you to be the ambassador to, let’s say, The Republic of Lobestan, you would be responsible for maintaining diplomatic relationships between Canada and the Republic of Lobestan, you would lead political and economic negotiations between the two countries, you would promote cooperation between our two countries, you would safeguard and protect Canada’s interests, and you would ensure the safety of any Canadians living in the Republic of Lobestan.  Google also told me that strong communication, negotiation, and interpersonal skills are essential to the job!

So if we were to take that metaphor of an ambassador to our own calling to be ambassadors of Christ in the world, I think that there is a lot of truth to the job description here.  We are to promote God’s interests here in the world where we are living.  I guess that means that we are to live all of those things that Jesus taught us about – the easier things like feeding hungry people, and the harder things like turning the other cheek, or forgiving people who have done us wrong.  We are to live these values that are often very different to the things that the world values, and if someone happens to ask us why we do these things, well, as ambassadors we then have an opportunity to tell them about the kingdom that we represent – God’s kingdom.

I’m especially curious about the whole “engaging in economic negotiations” that are part of an ambassador’s job description.  Most of you have probably heard me say this before, but no human-developed economic system is perfect, and all human-developed economic systems are vulnerable to the imperfections of humans.  And God’s economy?  It is very different than any human economy because it is an economy based on grace and abundance.  Just last week, we heard Isaiah proclaim, “Hear, everyone who thirst, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy, and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price!”  So we, as ambassadors of God’s kingdom, living in the world today, might struggle because we know that the economic system we are working in – for us, that tends to be capitalism – is imperfect in so many ways, and we know that God has a better way of doing things.  So, as ambassadors, we are called to engage in and promote our home economy.  Which, in practice, means things like giving away free pie on PIE Day, or putting food in Ida’s cupboard to be available for anyone who needs it to take.  We are promoting God’s way of doing things.

And ambassadors are to protect the security of citizens of their home country in the country they are appointed to.  And this, to me, gets at the heart of Jesus’s commandment to love our neighbours.  Not just the neighbours we like.  Not just the neighbours who look like us and speak like us and pray like us.  All of our neighbours.  And because I take a very broad interpretation of who is a citizen of God’s kingdom – after all, all humans were created in God’s image – then we are called to protect anyone who is threatened or oppressed or in danger or vulnerable.

With that little throw-away phrase, “ambassadors for Christ,” Paul has placed an enormous weight on our shoulders.  But this weight is the weight of discipleship.  We do this because when we choose to follow the way of Jesus, this is the path we are choosing to follow.

But it is also a path of great joy.  No, we don’t get to live in the fancy mansions that most political ambassadors get to live in, and attend glitzy parties in the countries where we’re stationed.  But instead, we get to know that we are part of a new creation.  In our baptism, we were baptized into Christ’s resurrection, and we get to be trailblazers, bringing this new life to the world. It is exciting!  We get to serve alongside each other, bringing a message of love and hope to the world.

And when the weight of global politics tries to pull us down, when we are surrounded by trade wars and tariffs and elbows up and rumblings of takeovers – when all of this tries to pull us down, we can remember that our ultimate citizenship, our ultimate allegiance doesn’t lie in any of these messes that humans make.  Our ultimate citizenship is with God, and God’s kingdom – that kingdom that we pray for every day, “thy kingdom come on earth, as it is in heaven” – this kingdom where our citizenship lies is a place of joy and grace and reconciliation and healing and the overwhelming, unconditional, limitless love of a God whose very nature is love.

And may we always remember, and keep this vision in our hearts as we move about the world.  Amen.

 

 

One of those political cartoons

By Michael de Adder