Tweening             John 12: 1-8

       Some names go together. In folk music, it’s Peter, Paul and Mary. In pop culture, it’s Abraham, Martin and John.  In the Old Testament, it’s David and Jonathan. In the Gospels, it’s Peter, James and John, or Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Judas. Wait a minute. Play that last one back again. Mary, Martha, Lazarus and Judas? It just doesn’t fit, does it? Judas doesn’t fit in such a group. His is a one way, one dimensional history. Judas is the betrayer. Yet there he is in Bethany at the home of Lazarus. In a strange way, he does fits, for here, in this scene, there is the presence of death, so much so that is it sometimes referred to as the death passage.

          The story of the anointing of Jesus appears in all four Gospels. There are quite a few variations. In two gospels, it takes place at the home of Simon the leper. In another, Luke, it happens at the home of a Pharisee. The timing is different in Mark, occurring after Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, whereas the others place it on the weekend before the Passover and before Jesus comes to town. In two gospels, it is the head of Jesus which is anointed, but in the other two, it is his feet.  The story in Luke seems to have so many variances that some think it may be a different story altogether. While some facts vary from gospel to gospel, what is clear is that a woman, probably Mary the sister of Lazarus, anointed Jesus with an oil that was worth a year’s pay for a common laborer.

          As I was preparing this message, my wife called me to check in. How are you? How’s it going? Are you writing? The usual small talk and questions, probing me to make sure how I am, whether I’m ok. Then an observation. She had come from teaching a class. A friend of some years was there. She had been absent for some time, undergoing chemotherapy. The regimen has reached its end. Her body can no longer tolerate the treatments. Now the disease will have full access to her. Her time with us is now measured by weeks and months rather than years. The presence of death is very real for my wife’s friend and for all those who care for her.

          The scene at Bethany is somewhat surreal. Lazarus has been miraculously raised from the dead by Jesus. Jesus is now an outlaw and yet he is voluntarily looking into the jaws of the lion as he prepares to enter Jerusalem for the Passover. A meal has been prepared, perhaps even a banquet. This may be the first appearance for Lazarus after his resurrection. He too is a marked man by the Sadducees, who run the Sanhedrin, the ruling body of the Jews. They do not believe in the resurrection of the body and Lazarus is living proof that it can happen.  Here he is, reclining at table with Jesus the outlaw. It is as if the backdrop of death is breaking bread with the foreshadowing of death. Lazarus, the newly undead, sitting with Jesus, the about-to-be dead. No wonder it has been called the death passage. Like my wife’s friend and her circumstances, the presence of death is very real here, too.

          To this atmosphere are added Mary, Martha, Judas and probably the other disciples, though their presence is only implied. Martha is serving. That’s what Martha does. Mary is loving. Where Jesus is concerned, that’s what Mary does. Judas is griping. That’s what Judas does. Well, he also steals. The passage calls him a thief.

          Mary, ever the loving servant, breaks out a pound of very expensive perfume. It is used, among other things, to adorn the body of the dead. John tells us that not only does she bathe the feet of Jesus in this oil, but that she also cleans up the excess with her hair. Both are acts of extreme humility and devotion. Judas is irritated and says as much. Why would you lavish all this expense to wash his feet when water would do? This money could go a long way to feed the poor. John lets us know what Judas really wants. He wants access to all that money. Jesus tells Judas to leave Mary alone. He alludes to his impending date with the cross when he says that Mary may elect to save it for his burial. Then, he tells those gathered that the poor will always be there, but not so for him. He is again alluding to his death, although there is no way that those listening can catch his meaning.

          Mary’s deeds are such a witness. She holds Jesus in such high esteem that rather than anoint his head, a sign of honor,   she anoints his feet to show her complete humility. Mary even throws convention to the wind and lets down her hair to wipe away the excess. Such a display was unheard of in polite company. Indeed it was the sign of an immoral woman to be seen with her hair down in public. But Mary thought nothing of what others would say. She was totally devoted to Jesus.

          There is a lot going on here. Lazarus is up and about. The great friend of Jesus whose death caused our Savior to weep is now socializing. His testimony of resurrection is so powerful that the religious leaders will plot to have him executed. Martha is serving, a role to which she is accustomed. This is how she testifies. She says little, but is always near, working in the background. There is Judas, described here as disciple, betrayer and thief. His concern is with money and its pursuit. He can lay no claim to higher ground. There is Mary, the sister of the man returned from the dead. Surely Jesus is nothing less than God to her. He saved her brother. For Mary, the banquet is a woefully inadequate thank you. She takes her most treasured possession and bathes Jesus in it. Nothing is enough to reward him for what he has done and who he is.

          And then, there is Jesus. Like that backdrop of death that  Lazarus cannot help but bring to the table, Jesus shows us the ominous foreshadowing of his own death, now less than a week away. No matter that his hosts and followers do not know, for he does. This is what he has come to do and it looms large in his thoughts.

          Yet there is more to this story than the former and future deaths these men will undergo. There is much more. As surely as Lazarus reminds us that he died, his very presence screams to us that he lives! He is resurrected from days in the grave, nights without breath or life. One cannot help but wonder if the strong aroma of the perfume does not also help to hide the pervasive smell of death that may still follow Lazarus. And Jesus. Jesus looks clearly toward a killing cross, knowing and even predicting that as surely as he will allow the earthly temple of his body to be destroyed, it too will rise in those predicted three days, resurrected from death…and offering mankind the same future if it, we… will but ask and believe.

          A supper. A banquet.  A testimony not just of death but of resurrection. It is like the testimony with which Jesus left us. The kingdom of heaven is at hand. It is here, incomplete and messy, but here. The Spirit comes to us and we feel…we know…that he is here, that he is in us, part of us. And yet, he has not yet come. It is not yet the end of the age. We live in the middle of the already but not yet. We are tweeners, hurting from the sin that remains within us and healing from the spirit that washes over us.

Can we live with both these existences? Can we both live in the valley of the shadow and bask in the light of the Son? That is often what is required of us in this life. And so the answer must be yes. Yes, we can walk in that valley. We can walk in as many valleys as come to us. Judas captured the treasury and bankrupted himself. Mary gave the bank away and found the riches of the love of God. We can do the same as Mary did if we believe. We can do so because death holds no power over the Christian.  We can do so… because of the resurrection. He lives!