The Foolish Follower
March 13, 2016
John 12:1-8
We reach into our bag of goodies for another visual of our journey to Easter. Today is lotion. Not expensive, not very fragrant but nonetheless, a reminder of this day and this remembrance of Mary. A similar story is found in each gospel. This is John’s recounting. Not an anonymous woman. Not a sinner. Mary — faithful, foolish Mary.
Jesus and the disciples are in Bethany. Bethany, where Lazarus was raised from the dead. Bethany where Simon the healed leper lives. Bethany the place where later Jesus ascends into heaven. They’ve slowly been making the journey to Jerusalem. Now they are in the suburbs — about 2 miles from Jerusalem and a day from beginning of Holy Week. It is six days before Passover, a Saturday, THE Saturday before Palm Sunday.
Lazarus is there. Not long ago he was dead, buried and stinking. Now he’s reclining at the dinner table with the men. Mary is — well, Mary is being Mary. Once before she sat at Jesus’ feet listening to what he was saying instead of helping Martha in the kitchen.
Today is no different. Martha is in the kitchen whipping up lunch for 20, Mary is missing. Well, she was missing. She comes out of the bedroom with a jar. She goes, as she has done before, and sits at Jesus' feet. This time, this time, instead of listening to Jesus talk Mary breaks the seal on the jar. Immediately, the room is filled with the semi-sweet, musky odor of nard. Now, it’s not like the nard plant grows in the yard. There are no nard factories in Bethany, nor Jerusalem, nor Judea. Nard is an expensive fragrance extracted from a plant in Nepal, 3,000 miles away. Somehow it has traveled from the Nepalese mountains across the desert to Mary’s hands and now Jesus’ feet.
Now, why does Mary have a jar of nard, an imported oil from 3,000 miles away that cost a year’s wage? Did she purchase it for her brother Lazarus’ funeral and this is what’s left over? Was Mary paying attention to Jesus when he spoke of pending death so she bought this lavish gift for when that day came? We don’t know. By whatever means Mary comes into possession of this precious ointment, she pours it on Jesus’ feet.
Last week we looked at the foolish father. Extravagant and foolish love. Mary is a foolish follower. She is unrestrained in her love for Jesus. And is a model for us.
She’s foolish in the cost of the perfume. Judas is right. That’s a lot of money that could have been used to help the poor. Now, we’re told Judas didn’t really want to give money to the poor, he wanted to steal it but the truth is the truth. There are a number of scholars who believe Bethany was the site of an alms house for the poor and a place of care for the sick. What better setting for a scene like this? Expensive imported nard in a town filled with indigent people. Sell it and help the community. Sell it and support the food bank. Sell it and walk in the streets of Bethany and give the money away. It’s valued at 300 days’ labor. Today’s dollars about $18,000. Imagine how many people who could legitimately be helped with $60 a day. Groceries, utilities, medical care, clothing. Mary was foolish to buy it in the first place. A cheap motel sample lotion would have worked just as well. Why be so wasteful? Because she loves the Lord, extravagantly loves the Lord. She’s not going to pinch pennies in expressing to him her passion for him, her love for him, her commitment to him.
Foolish in cost. now foolish in action. People generally washed and anointed their own feet. Foot washing was a routine matter of cleanliness, and the use of oil or ointment on one’s feet was soothing after wearing sandals all day. When guests arrived at someone’s home, especially after a journey, the host usually provided a basin and water for the guests to wash their own feet before sharing the meal.
She’s foolish in buying such an extravagant perfume. She’s foolish in how she uses it. She “pours it on Jesus’ feet.” No spritzer here. No drop or two. Lavishly, extravagantly, she pours the whole container on Jesus’ feet. Such is her love for him. This is no measured response. She holds nothing back.
Not a sound is heard in the room as they all watch this act of pure devotion to the Lord. Mary’s heart is full of love and thankfulness to the Lord for what he has done, not only for Lazarus, but for the time Christ has given to the three of them, gently teaching them all about the love of the Father. He is the messiah. He is going to die. Love and thankfulness wells up with a desire to do something in return — to love in return, to give him something in response to his love. She wants to thank him, honor him, love him with all she has. And foolishly, Mary acts like a servant and washes his feet and caresses them with her hair.
Foolish cost. Foolish action. Foolish faith.
A slave was virtually the only one who could be expected to wash and anoint the feet of another person. Because of these connotations, those who voluntarily washed someone else’s feet showed they were devoted enough to act as that person’s slave. Foolish Mary, acting like a slave, a servant girl, instead of a friend, a disciple. But she’s even more foolish than that. Mary does something that no self-respecting Jewish woman ever did — she unclips her hair from being tied up and allows it all to hang loose. No respectable woman lets her hair down in public. She is touching the feet of the honored guest at this meal, and not only that, she’s wiping his feet with her hair, the crown and glory of a woman — throwing all public dignity aside. Such is her commitment to him. Her best. Her all for Jesus.
