More symbolism and meaning than meets the eyes, ears, nose, and . . .

      Our Lenten experience is reaching is ultimate teaching and mystery.  Like the disciples and Apostles, we have been well-reminded of our sins and wretchedness and of our need for a Savior.  And, probably more surprisingly than we like to admit, we have reminded ourselves of the fact that Jesus has died, been raised and ascended, and will One Day return to judge and truly establish God’s kingdom on the new earth.  I say surprising because for far too many of us Christians, the Resurrection is more of an intellectual assent.  We think ourselves so smart and so advanced that we are sometimes loathe to consider the possibility that Jesus really died, really was raised on the Third Day from that Tomb, and really Ascended into heaven to be with the Father.  Some of it is our “incredible understanding and relative brilliance to those who came before us;” the other is likely the realization that, if it is true Jesus was raised on the Third Day, it has far reaching implications on our lives and our attitudes.  Of course, that is a sermon for a couple weeks hence.

     Today, we are upon the real Holy Week, the week when Jesus was tried, tortured, and killed for our sakes.  In John’s Gospel, Jesus has taught plainly that He will be handed over to the authorities and be killed, but on the Third Day be raised.  The disciples and Apostles have not understood what He has meant, even though He has spoken plainly.  Their problem, of course, is the same as some of ours.  The know that nobody gets up from death.  It just does not happen.  Death is far more of a constant companion in their life than ours, so they would tell us they have more experience with death than us.  Wars, diseases, access to good medical care, sanitation—all of it was omnipresent in Antiquity.  (Yes, I know we would say we have all those things now!)  The disciples range from not understanding to thinking Jesus is probably using another weird parable to illustrate some point.  They have pinned their hopes on the fact that Peter was correct, that Jesus is the Messiah.  Some have even asked, to the anger of others among them, for the privilege to sit at His right hand and His left hand when He comes into His authority.

     But, for now, we are gathered with the disciples just six days before the Passover in the home of Lazarus, and Mary and Martha, in Bethany.  Lazarus, Luke reminds us, is the guy whom Jesus raised from the dead.  Mary, you remember the sister who chose the better part when Martha complained about her sister’s shirking of hostess duties.  Both sisters also firmly believed that Lazarus would not have died, had Jesus made it to him in time.  Mary takes a full pound of nard and anoints Jesus’ feet.

     The symbolism should not be lost on us.  The job of washing the feet of guests fell to slaves.  It was considered among some of the worst menial work in the ANE.  Such an attitude makes sense.  Not everyone had shoes or sandals.  Sewer systems were, let’s just say primitive.  Animals roamed or were herded down streets.  And few neighbors really bothered with carry their privy pots to any designated latrine areas outside villages or cities, leading to what you and I would call unsanitary conditions--and yet another reason death was a constant companion!  So, people traveling by feet were likely to step in any number of wonderful presents.  I see your faces.  You get it now.  That’s why the jobs were given to the slaves.  Nobody else wanted to do it!

     And, keep in mind, this family likely had slaves or servants to do that work.  They are throwing a huge party for Jesus and His disciples.  That’s not going to be cheap!  Few of us throw huge parties when we do not have two nickels or shekels to rub together.  And, just to make sure we understand their means, Luke reminds us that the nard was worth a full year’s wages!  No, this is a voluntary act of love and humility and service on her part.  Think of a matriarch in your family scrubbing a filthy commode for you.

     She takes the nard, which would cost her a year’s worth of work, and uses it to wash Jesus’ feet.  Can you imagine?  Can you imagine spending your yearly salary on something so mundane?  So menial?  So beneath you?  It would be akin to giving the hungry in our midst filet mignon or rib eye’s or tongue, apparently, if the recipient is from certain cultures!  That is a brief understanding of what Mary is doing here; it is THAT counter cultural.

     But then, wait, there’s more!  She uses her hair to wipe and dry His feet!  We have a number of ANE people in our midst, and we interact with more during the course of the week, so we begin to understand this on an intellectual level.  But Mary’s hair is her crown and glory!  In her culture, and many of those around her, her hair was a treasured characteristic.  In some of the surrounding cultures, the only person allowed to see her hair let down would be a father or, later in life, a husband.  It is that intimate an act, letting down her hair.  Yet, she thinks nothing of her crown and glory and uses her hair to wipe the dirt and crap, literally, from Jesus’ feet.  Can you imagine?  What would you use, were you in her place?  What do you value about yourself more than anything?  Would you use it to serve Jesus in this menial way?  Given our uncomfortable relationship with Maundy Thursday foot washing , I wonder.

     Mary, of course, has an advantage over each of us.  She has seen Jesus call her dead brother out of a tomb and be restored to life.  She has experienced the teaching of Jesus first-hand.  She has met any number of disciples who have shared the signs they saw.  And she has come to believe that He is the Holy One of God.  For many of us, it is more a question of faith.  We believe in Jesus because we trust those who shared God’s love for us.  We know people who have experienced miracles, signs of power.  We may even know people who have had mystical encounters with God or angels.  None of us, though, have sat at the feet of Jesus.  None of us, though, have had the opportunity to serve Him in the way that Mary and Martha did.  We have not smelled Him.  Touched Him.  Eaten with Him.  Laughed with Him.  Cried with Him.  Or have we?

     John, for his part, is not yet finished with the tale.  Judas Iscariot, John tells us, protested about this wasteful use of the nard.  Those of us who have studied John’s Gospel will note how John always reminds us that Judas was a false believer and the betrayer.  There is always a reminder of this in John’s description of his fellow Apostle.  Judas complains that the 300 denarii could be used to feed the poor.  John reminds us that Judas did not care for the poor, only for his access to steal from the common purse.  If 300 more coins were in the common purse, who would miss a few?

     Jesus, for His part, instructs Judas and any others who share that attitude, to leave her alone.  Jesus knows Mary’s heart.  Jesus teaches them and us that Mary bought the nard specifically for His death.  Though the men in the crowd do not seem to understand Jesus’ plain teaching, Mary has accepted it on faith and prepared for that horrible day.  I know most of us gathered here do not buy into the nonsense that God hates women in the Bible.  But in case you encounter some who do believe that skubala in your daily life and work, here’s another counter-example.  Mary is praised for choosing the better part by Jesus, and she is defended by Jesus as believing His words of His impending death.

     Jesus goes on to remind those present at the feast that they will always have the poor with them, but they will not always have Him.  The statement certainly prophesies Jesus’ impending departure, but the disciples and Apostles would have heard a bit more in their ears than our ears hear.  Way back, during the time of the giving of the torah, God gave economic instructions to His now-redeemed people.  If Israel would obey His economic teachings, there would be no poverty among them.  Everyone would eat.  Everyone would have what was necessary to live.  But then, even before Israel promises to keep the Covenant, God goes on to tell them that they will always have the poor among them.  Before Israel swears to keep the Covenant with God, God knows they won’t.  So, He tells them they will always have the poor among them.  The presence of the needy among them will testify against their hardness of heart and their inability to keep the Covenant.  We might say that will be one of the early signs of covenantal unfaithfulness—long before droughts or Exile.  The presence of the needy will remind them they need a true Savior!  They will need someone who can truly free them from all the bonds of oppression, from the big consequence of their sin!  Death!

     All of that is pretty cool teaching and symbolism, to be sure, but John is not done.  One of those interesting aspects of nard is that it is crimson in color.  When we understand the physical appearance of what Mary is doing, there is a whole new visual.  Yes, the nard would look a bit like blood being smeared all over Jesus’ feet and Mary’s hair.  We talked a bit about what feet experienced when walking in the ANE, but how much worse are the consequences of our sins!  St. Paul would say the inward conditions of our hearts makes the skubala from the roads and byways look good!  But in this amazing foreshadowing, inspired by her faith in Jesus, Mary points to the washing of the real dirt off her by the blood of her Lord!  In a way, her crown of glory, her hair, is washed in the blood of her savior, much as Peter asks of Jesus on Maundy Thursday.  Her crown of glory is His Blood!

     Today, of course, is a Healing Sunday.  Today, I will invite all those who desire anointing and prayer to come forward.  Foreheads will be marked with Healing Oil, and prayers will be said.  We will pray for the cure of any number of ailments or diseases or the healing of however many broken relationships.  But through it all, we remind ourselves of the promise we all share thanks to the work of Christ on this week especially.  All of us approach His throne cognizant of our sins; yet we trust in the efficacy and power of His Blood to restore us to our Father in heaven.  We recognize that we have claimed our own death in His, that we might share in His Resurrection, should we face death before His return.  Just as significantly, however, we remind ourselves of the fragrance that such acts have in our Father’s nose.

     I mentioned a few moments ago that most of us do not have the privilege of knowing Mary as intimately as Mary.  She spent time with the Incarnation!  Even those of us who have had mystical encounters with God understand the blessing afforded Mary and the other early disciples and Apostles.  They could touch Him.  They could smell Him.  They ate with Him.  They heard His joyful laughter.  As I reminded us of their experience of His presence compared to us, I made the questioning statement about whether we are afforded those same opportunities.  Jesus, for His part, will remind the Apostles during the so-called Doubting Thomas scene, that we are blessed because we have not seen and yet believe.  But . . .

     John is, of course, the great symbolist and theologian of the Gospels.  We lump the Synoptic Gospels together and set John apart.  And there is a logic to that.  Who among us would argue that John’s prologue is anything like the birth narratives of Jesus in the Synoptics?  Who among would argue that John’s focus on the Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus, is identical to that of the other Gospel authors.  As a result, we sometimes fall into the trap of believing that John was mostly concerned about the “big” matters of salvation and the other authors about the “mundane” matters of salvation.  And, for those who have studied John’s Gospel in Bible studies or EFM, we know that Chapter 12 is the chapter of signs.  It is here, in this very chapter, that the cosmic battle described in the first eleven chapters reaches its fever pitch.  And the response to these crescendos will be the betrayal, torture, and death of Jesus, the very suffering death we are invited to join when we undergo the Sacrament of Baptism!

     Yet, even more subtly perhaps than the anointing of nard, which reminds us all we need the same crown of glory as Mary, is that reminder that we do, in fact, have an opportunity to see, to feel, to touch, to smell, and to serve Jesus lovingly and lavishly.  The great theologian of the early Church, who reminds each of us in the beginning of his narrative that the world came into being through Jesus, also remind us that our service of the poor and outcast is service of Him.  John records that Jesus says we will always have the poor among us.  For those who claim to have hearts prepared as thrones for Jesus or to be empowered by the Holy Spirit to do His will, Jesus’ words remind us of God’s love of everyone and our bounden duty and service out of gratitude, that we serve them to serve Him.  We lavishly serve others because we want to lavishly serve Him!  Make no mistake, it is a loving obligation, a thankful obligation, we feel in our hearts.  But, we who desire an intimate relationship with our Lord understand on a fundamental level that in seeing others, we see Him; in smelling others, we smell Him; in crying with others, we cry with Him; in laughing with others we laugh with Him.  They, just like us, were created in His image.  They, just like us, cannot begin to comprehend the crown of glory that He offers who choose to serve Him.  But serve them we do.  Because we know and trust that in serving them, we serve Him.  And like our Master who came not to be serve but to serve, we know that such is how God draws the world to Himself!  Even those unworthy like you or like me!

 

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Rejoicing that He loves us and loves others . . .

      Yes, the altar coverings have changed a bit.  For those who are a bit more traditionally minded, this is Laetere Sunday.  If you were here on Gaudette Sunday in Advent, you might remember this set and you might remember me saying that you would see the set again in Lent.  For those wondering what I am talking about, today is one of two Sundays in the Church year where the vestments are rose colored.  Unsurprisingly, since the sets are only used twice a year, not every church has rose or pink colored altar sets.  It is hard to justify to an altar guild or Vestry the need to spend $7-12,000 on a set that is used only twice a year, especially when the green set or the white set is getting a bit worn!

     One of the benefits of the pandemic was that it allowed the altar guild to do some re-organizing, without the rush of normal activities.  In the midst of cleaning up and cleaning out, the ladies came across this set.  Some Adventer or Adventers long before us paid good money for this set, and it is in great shape.  So, we made the decision to use it on those two Sunday’s.

     Laetere Sunday is the fourth Sunday of Lent.  The name comes from the Latin word for rejoice!  Those who really use their Prayer Books understand that the Latin names of the Psalms are included in our Psalter.  Since this was the middle Sunday between Ash Wednesday and Easter, it was meant to be a bit of a celebration, a great big “hump day,” for those of us who remember that term.  We have been focusing in Lent on our sins and wretchedness and our need of the Savior.  We are not, of course, traveling through Lent worried about the outcome.  We already know how this season will turn to Holy Week, and the Passion and Death of our Lord Christ.  Just as significantly, we know that that seeming defeat of God’s plan of salvation will turn into the miracle of Easter.  Heck, even when we gather during Lent, we remember His death, we proclaim His Resurrection, and we await His coming in glory.

     The Church, in Her infinite wisdom, for years began the liturgy with the invitation: Rejoice with Jerusalem, be glad for her, all that delight in her . . . The focus was supposed to be on God’s provision for His people, well, all people who would call upon Him.  The Gospel reading for the day was the miracle of the five loaves and fishes.  It was an easy way to get from Jesus’ provision, with twelve baskets of leftovers after everyone ate their fill, to the hopes and promises of the Eucharistic meal in which we share each week.

     For reasons known only to the RCL folks, though, the Parable of the Prodigal Son was moved from the early middle of the green season after Pentecost to today.  For my part, I am not a fan of the move.  One of the wonderful aspects of the parable was that it taught us our roles in the season in which we were called to be growing in our faith.  Depending on the need of the congregation or individuals within, a faithful priest could remind their flock that we are all prodigal sons and prodigal daughters, that most of us are often older brothers or older sisters, and that many of us are called to be loving fathers or loving mothers at various times in our walk with God.  By moving the reading to the middle of Lent, our focus tends to be more on our prodigal, sinful, nature.  The parable, of course, remains the same; but we read it with “purple colored glasses,” rather than the green in which many of us came to know and love it.

     That being said, the parable is still the parable.  And it is a parable that is worthy of rejoicing on our part.  All of us are prodigals, so we can rejoice that our loving Father forgives us our sins of which we are penitent and embraces us every bit as tightly and lovingly as the father does in the story.  And those of us who have been like the older brother in the parable, begrudging that we do what we are supposed to do and that God will forgive those who don’t, if they repent even on the death bed.  Oh, come on now, I see faces of disbelief.  Have none of us complained to God that He was not fair in His treatment of us, relative to others?  I mean, many of us gathered here today attend church faithfully; many of us pledge or give faithfully; many of us participate in ministries frequently; some of us study the Scriptures more seriously, and almost all of us think we have a great prayer life, right?  OK, well, we do those things better than those who do not show up, right?  Now I see rueful faces.  Yes, in our heart of hearts we often think we deserve blessings or even God’s grace more than others.  Yes, He knows our hearts.  Yes, He forgives even that attitude.  And, I am willing to bet, most of us who have had children have failed to be a loving parent all the time.  Those of you with only two kids can only imagine the failures of a parent of seven!  See, it is worthy of rejoicing to be forgiven!  Those of you who miss the reference might want to talk to Adventers about the let it alone another year reference from the fig tree parable last week.

     Since we all know these things, there is no need for me to spend time preaching on them.  If you want to talk or argue specifically, feel free to drop by or call this week.  Instead, I felt called to do a bit of preaching on the parable and its relation to the Eucharist which we celebrate this day and our call to rejoice!  In the parable there are a couple themes seemingly at odds with one another, themes which point to our need for circumcised hearts.

     The first theme is the theme of the prodigal.  We have all heard sermons how the son’s initial request was basically a “you’re dead to me, dad,” an insult in a culture that values honor, and mothers and fathers if they are faithful.  The behavior of the prodigal shows how far away he is willing to leave his people, his family, and his God.  He eschews an inheritance in the covenant promises made to Abraham and travels voluntarily to another land.  While there, he engages in dissolute living, activities which would condemn him under the torah.  And before he comes to himself, he finds himself working for a gentile pig farmer, slopping the hogs as folks from North Carolina would say.  Yes, he is tending unclean animals.  Despite all this bad behavior, when he finally comes to himself, he decides it is better to be a slave in his father’s house than live like this.  Against all expectation, the father lavishly welcomes him back.  He is robed, ringed, and feted by the very man to whom he proclaimed severance.

     That theme is easy for us to understand.  God tells us over and over and over and over in the Scriptures how much He loves us, despite us.  Take your favorite story from the Old Testament.  God is faithful to Israel even when Israel refuses to be faithful to Him.  He is not caught surprised by their rejection.  In fact, as the covenant is sworn by them with Him before the verge of the Jordan, He gives them the signs of warning to evaluate their faithfulness.  But even as He promises they will be punished, because the will not keep the covenant, He promises that His wrath will not be kindled against them forever.  One day, He will call them home, and He will send them a prophet like one of them, who will instruct and teach and live as He calls all of His people to live, thereby fulfilling the purposes of His call on Abraham, that he and his descendants will be a blessing to the nations of the world!

     The second theme, though also easy to understand, is a little tougher to ponder in our mirrors of self-examination, even in an intentional season where we focus on such things.  The attitude of the older brother is often far more prevalent in us than we would like to admit.  We like to think we deserve or have earned God’s grace but that others have not.  Who the “others” are differs for us, depending on where we are in our walk with God and others.  Sometimes, we complain bitterly to God because we go to church faithfully, or give generously, or volunteer copious amounts of our time to serving others in His name.  And in our self-righteous indignation, we evaluate the attendance, the giving, or the ministry of others, giving little thought to their own conditions or God’s call on their lives.  Sometimes, we determine who is worthy of God’s grace by the color of their skin, by their ethnic tribe, by their political affiliation, by their education, by their occupation, or any other ways to convince ourselves we are right and they are wrong.  In truth, we forget that the intended audience of Jesus were those who questioned His work among the “undesireables” of their society, those who were supposed to study and know the heart of God.

     Part of Jesus’ important work was to incarnate the covenantal love, the hesed, of God.  God’s commitment to His people, all of humanity, is beyond any concept of love that you or I see in the world around or truly understand.  Were we truly to understand it, each of us would remember when we were the prodigal son or daughter, when we were the lost sheep, when we were the lost coin, or when we found that pearl of immeasurable wealth.  Yet, for so many of us for so much of the time, we forget that honest look at ourselves.  We forget that Jesus died even for our sins, even as He died for the sins of the others.  And in that attitude of forgetfulness, we are like those in His intended audience.  When we see God’s love powerfully redeeming others, we are often resentful.  In the parable, we are like the older brother who refuses to join in the celebration.  Thankfully and mercifully, of course, He knew that about us before He ever went to Golgotha.

     Two themes.  How are the reconciled?  How can someone be so loved by God that He would come down from heaven, suffer and die for them?  How can someone aware of God’s work ever come to the conclusion that others are not worthy of the same love from the same God?  Both, of course, are nailed to the Cross with Jesus in judgment of the world and us.  Those of us who have wrestled with the teachings of the season, who have seriously pondered the readings we have faced and the illuminations of ourselves through the Holy Spirit, should begin to notice that the Cross is growing ever bigger in our lives.  At various times in our lives, we have been the crowd, the prodigal, the father, and the older brother.  We should, better than most, recognize our need for His saving embrace on the hard wood of that Cross.  And yet, so ingrained in our hearts is that sin of resentment, that sin of hubris, that we refuse to admit we belong with those we judge as others.

     I said at the beginning of the service that we are celebrating Laetere Sunday.  I reminded you that the name came from the Latin title of the psalm originally appointed for the day – rejoice!  Brothers and sisters, you and I are called to rejoice this day, to give thanks this day, and every day for that matter, that God was unwilling to leave us to our own devices and desires.  When we were lost, when we were prodigal, he waited patiently for us to come to ourselves and return to Him.  And, like the father in the parable, He celebrated with the angels in heaven when we returned to Him.  But, my friends, that celebration is not just limited to us!  Each and every time a lost one comes to themselves and returns to Him, He throws another party and another party and another party.  Let to our own efforts, our own works, our own righteousness, none of us would ever have a prayer of being invited to that party.  But we rejoice this day and every day because the invitation was not dependent upon any of us.  It was dependent solely upon our Lord Christ.  Because He was faithful, we are invited.  Because He was wounded, we are healed.  Because He was raised, we know we will get to attend that celebration that is far beyond what any of us can ask or imagine.

     But, before we party, before we celebrate, we have work to do.  Like the older brother, we have tasks appointed to each of us.  Some of the tasks seem impossible.  Some of the tasks seem rather mundane.  But all of them that He gives us are for the benefit of those whom we serve in His name and for ourselves.  And so, on this day as we are fed by His teachings and by His Sacrament, we rejoice that He loved us despite our own unworthiness, and empowers each of us to love others, as He loved us, that they, too, might have reason to rejoice in their lives.  And, once we’ve all gone to that place where there are no tears nor sighing, join us in that wonderful celebration about which He is always talking and encouraging and teaching us how to invite others!

 

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†