5^th Sunday in Lent

John 12:1-8

¹ Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ² There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him. ³ Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’s feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴ But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵ “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” ⁶ (He said this not because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷ Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸ You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

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The Path Through The Ruthlessness of the Sea

Grace to you, beloved of God, and peace from our Lord and Savior. Jesus Christ!

My father always told us about this adventure he had after he graduated from high school and before going to college. I had a great uncle who was a captain in the Brazilian Merchant Navy. That summer, he accepted the invitation to travel back and forth through the Atlantic Sea. 

He told multiple stories about life on the ship and his interactions with the crew. One of his favorites was how they had to remain anchored on the Brazilian shore, waiting for repairs in the massive freighter. Some sailors played soccer on the deck. Others spent time fishing for the sharks that followed the ship because of the food scraps thrown into the sea. Allegedly, they caught one of them. A big one, and at the time, they joked with my dad about what one of those would do with a human being if one of them fell from the ship into the water. It made an impression on him, and not in a good way. 

Later in the trip, they hit some very rough seas; according to my father, that was one the most terrifying experiences of his life. He thought he would die, regardless of the assurances from the crew that the big ship was built to take the severe beating of those waves. He ignored all of them. All he could think of were the big sharks always following the ship and what would happen to him if he found himself thrown into the waters at the mercy of one of nature’s most fierce predators. 

I suspect my father’s experience is why the seas were so dreadful for the Bible’s authors. The seas swallowed people away. Back then, they moved through the sea on wooden ships, not diesel-powered—now nuclear-boosted—behemoths made of steel. Monsters, beasts, storms, and a dreadful sense of powerlessness and being at the mercy of God amid the relentless roughness of the waters. If one thought they had any pending debts with the Almighty, absolute terror from the fear of perishing would occupy their hearts. It would be nearly impossible to trust in God’s promise of a safe passage through the ruthlessness of the seas, and they are about to become really rough for Jesus and his closest friends dining in Bethel a few days before the Passover and the events we know will follow.

That little gathering in and of itself took some courage and trust in what God was doing. Jesus had brought Lazarus from being fully dead in a very public way. That was the point. Those who witnessed the event knew now he meant business one way or the other. For some, it solidified the majesty of what they were experiencing; others began to feel the threat to their positions of privilege. This Jesus had the power to overtake the world and was not claiming armies, horses, or earthly kingdoms. Everything was about to change and be made new, and therefore, becoming terrifying to those beginning to reveal themselves as enemies of the gospel. The plot to get to Jesus before anything they fear could happen was on. The authorities were already looking for him. 

To give evidence of how dangerous this little gathering was, John tells us that the word of this visit goes around after Jesus and the disciples depart. Consequently, the authorities began plotting to remove the newly alive Lazarus from among the living for good. No evidence of Jesus’ power of restoration should remain. Evil is relentless. It does not cease or desist, and it’s all around already and brewing when these friends sit down in Bethany for the last time. This is the calm before the storm. 

Two people here in this scene seem aware of what will unfold once the palms are put away after the entrance in Jerusalem. One is obvious. The co-creator of everything there is, our promised Savior, is one of them. The other is someone who just experienced the dreadfulness of death and loss and came to trust Jesus to see her through the other side to the joy of new life. To Mary of Bethany, this last moment of intimate devotion to her Lord is priceless. What she will leave behind no longer has value; the only thing that matters to her now is the assurance of hope brought by the life anew to come in the company of her Savior.

Among them, one is beginning to fall for the false promises of this world. What is he up to? Only evil knows. I am not sure it matters. Maybe he is just a numbers person, more interested in self-benefit than the renewal and restoration of everything happening right before him. He does not see, but our Lord sees him. He does not have Jesus with him. The assurance of what he hoped for no longer resides in his heart. What he is lacking, however, is what Mary has in abundance: such clarity of love and trust for God and the new thing taking place. May we have his fullness in our hearts forever. Amen.