Sermon Notes from Pastor Christine...
I'm hoping this doesn't come off as too erotic for church conversation... See, now that I've perked up your ears I feel as if I don't have to say much of anything else to have your rapt attention. But, seriously, I hope this image resonates richly and is not distracting. My husband and I lead hectic lives. There are weeks where we feel as if we are ships passing in the night. He travels some for work and can easily be gone for a week. And he typically spends a night or so at the fire house. I work many nights and weekends myself. And so there are a fair amount of nights that I miss him. Miss him terribly with a deep sense of longing. Maybe this is because some would consider us still newlyweds, but I hope that sensation never goes away. In those times of missing him, I'll frequently dig out one of his large, tattered, navy blue firehouse t-shirts and sleep in it. Yes, I look ridiculous. My husband is 6 foot 2 inches (and I'm a whopping 5 foot 1) and so his shirts looks like dresses on me. But, something about the scent which lingers in his shirt calms and infuses me with a sense of security and belonging. He just doesn't feel very far away then. Now, let me be straight out honest with you: I smell way better than my husband. He does have that 'guy smell'. You know the dirt, oil, sweat all mixed with Zest body soap smell... but since he is my beloved, I'm ok with the stink of him. Now, clearly our story tells us that nard was used to prepare dead bodies for burial. This isn't a smell with which I'd be Ok. I'd want to thoroughly cleanse myself from anything that reminded me of death. But Mary is apparently OK with the stink of death saturating her hair, which I find so odd. She lavishly covers herself and Jesus in this smell, yearning to cherish her beloved Jesus for one more intimate, fragrant moment, before the sewage of hatred and death washes over him and carries him away. That smell is one that must've lingered in her hair for days... at least until after the resurrection. While doing a little research for this sermon, I learned that of all our sensory perceptions, smell is the most directly connected to the seat of our emotions. This makes sense to me. No wonder I want to sleep in Drew's shirt; no wonder the aroma of my mom's chocolate chip cookies baking reminds me of warmth and safety; no wonder the scent of Johnson's baby lotion evokes innocence and purity in my subconscious. Our bible lection today is saturated with other smells too. It is dinner time at the home of Mary and Martha. All that is associated with meals is wafting through the room: smoke from the fire, maybe freshly made bread and fish are for dinner. Or possibly a prized animal has just been slaughtered, because this is a meal no other - post funeral gathering where the dead man, Lazarus, is no longer dead. His stench, whether it be of bodily decomposition or burial oils, also lingers in the air. The cacophony of smells illustrates the disharmony of emotions contained within that scene: betrayal, confusion, death, disagreement, looming violence, and love are all present at this dinner. It is in middle of this scene that Mary decides to anoint her beloved Jesus. This is what I love about Mary. She doesn't care what anyone thinks about her, except Jesus. She caught hell from Martha (and probably other tail-waggers) when she didn't fulfill the traditional role of women and slave away in the kitchen with Martha during the last meal they had with Jesus. Mary boldly belittles Jesus when he doesn't show up in time to initially save Lazarus, telling him, "If you had been here, then my brother wouldn't be dead, but no, you apparently had better things to do than help a friend out." Okay, I added that second part. She doesn't really say that, but you can just hear it as a thought bubble above her head. And now, even though she's been ridiculed before for laying herself at Jesus' feet, she lays herself at the feet of Jesus with no regard for what others think.
Mary's actions are those of utter devotion, not just sweet love. Mary participates passionately and fully in what has become known as the 'passion' of Jesus. There's nothing she wouldn't do for him.
I mean, let's think about it.
If Jesus raised your brother from the dead before your very eyes, wouldn't you fall at his feet and unflinchingly hand yourself over to him, pouring out your heart in devotion to the extent that you could care less what those around you think?
This isn't just a sweet moment of stillness in the midst of a gathering storm. I'm not quite sure what compels Mary in this very moment (she is a woman with a mind of her own), but her actions tell us one crucial thing about what she believes about Jesus and what she believes about life. She knows exactly what she's doing
By anointing Jesus while he's still alive, she transforms the smell of nard from death to life. Mary doesn't wait until the proper time or until it's too late to say what she wants to say. Her actions say, "I already know what happens to the dead; they come back to life." I guess that's why she's ok with the sink of death. She knows it isn't the end, but the beginning.
She pours the perfume out at a time when others don't understand this yet, when it will be seen as an extravagance, and when it disrupts the order of things. It is a protest against death itself. She also seems to believe that she deserves all that Jesus has to offer. She places herself at his feet, in His presence because all she wants is to be covered in His scent, covered in His love, covered in His life, and covered in His death. I'm certain that Mary was afraid of losing Jesus; worried about how the future would look; scared that grief might overcome her; and maybe had some tinges of guilt for things she had said or not said to Jesus. But those feelings didn't stop her. Mary believes in Jesus. Which sounds so... ugh, I don't know, so, "Just believe and everything will be ok." But that isn't what she believes. She doesn't just believe that everything will be ok. Mary's belief in Jesus means she believes in herself; she believes in life; she believes in taking a risk; she believes in relationships; she believes in compassion... Mary, to borrow term from Brene Brown (and Theodore Roosevelt), believes in 'daring greatly.' Her actions are those of reckless beauty, saying to Jesus. "I'm holding nothing back from you. You deserve all of me. And I want all of you and all you have to offer." Such wholehearted vulnerability and courageous love are not typically our default postures. We find it hard to say, or hear, or do what is necessary, because then we risk exposing ourselves. I want to love this much, but Jesus didn't raise my brother from the dead.
But He promises to. I want to be this devoted to Jesus, but Jesus didn't come to my house for dinner.
But He invites me to His table. I want the smell of grace to emanate from me, but I didn't wipe his feet with my hair.
But He washed me in the waters of grace. I want to give myself to Him to the extent that I don't worry about what others think, but...who can really love this wholly? Maybe only Jesus can truly love that much, but that can become an excuse for taking the easy way out. And we all know Jesus isn't about the 'easy way.'
Besides, is there anything more dangerous, confining, or hurtful than realizing we are standing on the outside of our lives and looking in... wondering what it would be like if we just had the courage to show up, let ourselves be seen by Jesus, our friends, and our family, and believe that death does not have the final word? Wouldn't I live my life differently then? Wouldn't I dare greatly in love, dare greatly in compassion, dare greatly in vulnerability, dare greatly in life? Wouldn't you? Amen. | 
