The House Was Filled

This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the Fifth Sunday in Lent of Year C, March 25, 2007

Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

One of the traditions of the ancient church is the burning of incense. Often when people talk about high church traditions, they use the phrase “smells and bells.” Well, those of us who worship in reformation tradition churches aren’t very well connected to the “smells and bells,” and this isn’t all bad. One of the points of the reformation was that the meanings of the liturgy were lost to the people because only the priests participated in them. In the middle ages, the most significant parts of worship became more of a spectator sport than a participation event.

It’s the difference between watching Monday Night Football on ESPN and playing in a Saturday afternoon pick-up game. Both help give exposure to the mysteries of what’s going on in the sport, but only in participating do the work and the mystery come together into something to truly sink our teeth into. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the font. This is why we welcome everyone to come to the table. This is why we welcome everyone to participate in the work and worship of the congregation.

But in losing the “smells and bells,” we lose a connection to thousands of years of worship tradition. There is an old Anglo-Saxon blessing of incense goes like this:

“May my song rise like incense in thy presence. And for us may it be a perfume of consolation, of goodness, and grace, so that these fumes will drive out every phantom from the mind and body, leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God. May all the attacks of demons fly from this incense like dust before the wind, like smoke before dancing flames.”[1]

The burning of incense is a way of offering, literally raising, prayer and praise. The burnt offerings of the Old Testament were offered for a variety of reasons, all having to do with the worship of the Lord. In the smoke and scent, the worship of the people was lifted on high. It focused the people on the work at hand, worship of the Lord. But there were other scented offerings made in ancient Israel, and this aromatic anointing is what we hear about today in our gospel reading.

Jesus has come to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, where he was served dinner. Some translations lift this up as a special banquet, sort of welcoming the conquering heroes: Lazarus and Jesus, the one who returned from the dead and the one who brought him back. As for me, I prefer the plainer translations, just a supper instead of a banquet. I prefer to think of this as a quiet dinner at home, albeit a quiet dinner with an obsessive-compulsive workaholic hostess, her emotionally theatrical sister,[2] their brother who was recently so dead that he smelled, the Lord our God, and at least one of his closest friends. You know, since this was Judas maybe I should have used finger quotes, you know, “closest friends.” Yeah, some quiet dinner with the old gang.

Suddenly, Mary comes out with a pound of costly perfume made from pure nard worth three-hundred denarii. To get an indication about how much this cost, the average worker earned one denarius a day with a six day work week. Three hundred denarii would take fifty weeks, nearly one full year to earn. Closer to home, the median household income in Carroll County, Arkansas is around $30,000.00.[3] So imagine going to Dillard’s and paying $30,000.00 for about a pint of perfume. Then imagine using it to wash someone’s feet.

Either Lazarus was loaded, or Mary took this foot washing very seriously.

There is no indication that Lazarus was so rich.

After this most generous act, in the words of the gospel, the house was filled with the aroma of the perfume.

Mary took this valuable offering, this gift of great value, and used it to perform a menial chore. She used it to carry out the duty of a slave;[4] she washed the feet of Jesus. Her extravagance is shown in this ordinary action, an action which gives us a preview of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. But I shouldn’t change the subject. We’ll hear about that on Maundy Thursday when we read John 13.

Of course, Judas is livid. After all, the extravagance of this gift could be better suited to feed the poor, or to line his pockets after he lifts a coin or two out of their common purse. Now, the theft angle not withstanding, isn’t Judas right? Couldn’t the money have been better used to feed the poor? We talk about mission and evangelism all of the time. We talk about getting funds for school supplies for kids whose families can’t afford them on their own. We talk about collecting for the hungry locally, nationally, and internationally. We do more than just talk, we act. We do something about it. So if it seems like Judas has a point, well, it’s because from our point of view he does.

But Jesus turns the tables with the often quoted eighth verse, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” This has always bothered me. It seems so callous, and that’s not Jesus’ character.

Something that is missing in the translation is that this is a paraphrase from Deuteronomy 15:11, “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’” Jewish commentaries prioritized acts of compassion, how we open our hand to the poor and needy neighbor, praising the care of the dead above almsgiving.[5] Jesus alludes to this when he says, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” This isn’t a frivolous use of a costly perfume, Mary is taking care of her poor and needy neighbor as Deuteronomy command. So in a way, Jesus is not being callous toward the plight of the poor, he may be reminding listeners, Judas in particular, that caring for the dead should be emphasized over giving to the poor. Get your priorities straight, dear Judas.

But there is something wrong with this logic. Burial anointing begins with the head, not with the feet. The gospels of Mark and Luke get this detail right when Mary breaks open the jar of nard anointing the head of the Lord.

John makes this a little more complicated as Mary anoints his feet. But there may be two things at play here. The first is that Mary is anointing Jesus in preparation of his death. Certainly Jesus and seemingly Mary know that the hour of Jesus’ death is on the horizon. In anointing him, she acts in love as a faithful disciple of the Lord[6] preparing him for the tomb. Something Judas will fail to do so soon. This is noted in the text, Jesus says it plainly in verse seven. But there is another possible facet to this anointing to explore.

The washing of the feet is not how one is prepared for the tomb. It is a sign of courtesy and hospitality, but in Mary’s hands it becomes more. In washing Jesus’ feet, she anoints him to perform his royal work. As the scent of the perfume filled the house, it wasn’t being filled with the aroma of impending death; it was being filled with the smells of new life, a new life in the anointed Christ.

The house was filled with the aroma of service. The house was filled with the aroma of extravagant giving. This new aroma was even able to cover the smell of Judas’ comment. Yes, Mary has anointed Jesus in preparation of his death, but she has also anointed him in preparation of his life, his work, and his coming passion. Her action fills the house with the aroma of love and devotion, not hypocrisy or mourning.

I have filled this house of worship with an aroma of incense this morning. I have done this to add another element of sensory stimulation to our worship. I have done this to add another medium of lifting our worship. In the words of the Anglo-Saxons, “May our song rise like incense in thy presence.” We need to be like Mary, filling the house with the aroma of life in Christ, not with preparation for death. We need to anoint one another, setting aside one another, preparing one another for the work of the kingdom here on earth. Yes, often we will be called to perform extravagant actions doing menial chores, just like Mary. And like Mary, we are to do this in gracious loving service to the Lord and one another.

May our joyful work and our worship fill this house of God, the houses we dwell, and the world we serve like the nard Mary uses to anoint Jesus and the incense we burn leaving us, as the Apostle Paul phrased it, smelling sweetly of God.

[1] From The Oxford Book of Prayer, edited by Appleton, George. New York: Oxford University Press found in; Archdiocese of Chicago, A Lent Sourcebook, The Forty Days, edited by Baker, J. Robert, et. al. Chicago: Liturgical Training Publications, 1990, page 147.
[2] “Mary” entry #3, Blair, E. P., Entry editor. The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. Buttrick, George Arthur, Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 21st Edition, 1962.
[3] http://www.census.gov/cgi-bin/saipe/saipe.cgi, for Carroll County, Arkansas, accessed March 24, 2007.
[4] Ibid, The Interpreters Dictionary of the Bible. “Foot Washing” entry, Shepherd, Jr., M. H., Entry editor.
[5] Mays, James Luther, General Editor, Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Sloyan, Gerard, John. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, page 153.
[6] Notes on John 12:7-8, The New Interpreter’s Study Bible New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, Harrelson, Walter H., General Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2003.