What Mary Knew
John 12:1-8
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ (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.) Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’
There are multiple times throughout the life of Jesus, in all four Gospel narratives in which the disciples just don’t get it, and Jesus becomes frustrated, sometimes even angry with them. And often times, these scenarios stem from the disciples being in denial or willfully ignorant of Jesus’ true mission on this earth, and the pain, death, and resurrection that awaited him. I’ve preached about multiple of these instances— and I do give the disciples some grace. Jesus three times let them know that he would die a painful, horrible and untimely death, only to rise again after three days, and the disciples were horrified to hear that this person they followed and loved, this person for whom they gave up their lives, was going to leave them, and leave them in a painful and traumatic way, at that. They didn’t want to believe it, nor did they understand; maybe they didn’t even want to understand it.
At times, Jesus let their lack of understanding go. But there were times in which he let his human side show through, he let his anger or frustration be known. The first time Jesus tells the disciples of what his future holds, in both the gospels of Matthew and Mark, Peter freaks out, he rebukes Jesus telling him that God must not let that happen. Well Jesus rebukes him right back, yelling ‘Get behind me, Satan! …you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’ The second time Jesus tells them the near future that awaits, not only do they not understand it, but soon after Jesus’ dire announcement they begin to argue amongst themselves about which one is the best, which one will get to be the favorite, and sit on Jesus’ right side, making it abundantly clear that they don’t understand the gravity of the situation. And finally, after the third time he tells them, the brothers James and John ask Jesus if they can sit on his right and left side when this time he speaks of comes. Jesus tells them, “you do not know what you are asking.” And of course, when Jesus is moments away from being betrayed and handed over to those who would soon kill him, he is praying in Gethsemane with the disciples, and they fall asleep at such a crucial and frightening time for their friend and savior— “Could you not keep awake one hour?” Jesus laments, “Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” God knows if the disciples had understood what was about occur they would have been awake with anxiety and fear, they would have been keeping watch for the authorities, they would have been awake with love and support for Jesus—but they just don’t get it. Rather than being fueled by their anxiety or fear in a positive way, they let their underlying anxiety, fear, and ignorance keep them in denial— they bury their heads in the sand, refusing to face the fact that soon their savior and friend will suffer and die.
In our passage today, Jesus’ friend Mary, full of gratitude for the fact that Jesus has recently raised her brother Lazarus from the dead, and full of anticipatory grief for what is about to happen to him, pours and entire container of wildly expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet, anointing him. And this time we have Judas, the disciple who in just a few days’ time, will hand Jesus over to the authorities for 30 pieces of silver, rebuking Mary for what he sees as a waste of resources. John, for that it’s worth, more than any of the other gospel narratives, makes it known that Judas is a career criminal, and has been skimming off the top the entire time he’s been a disciple of Jesus, just so we know how vile of a person Judas really was.
But if we pretend we don’t know what kind of person Judas was, and the incredible betrayal that he would soon commit, his objection would appear valid. Surely at least some of the disciples would have been on his side regarding his rebuke—after all, they didn’t fully understand what was coming down the pipe, and they were surely confused about this lavish show of praise and crazy use of resources from Mary.
What did Mary know? What did Mary understand that the disciples didn’t? “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial,” Jesus says. Mary was prepared. Mary understood what was coming. Mary was facing the reality of the situation. She believed what Jesus had been saying, and she saw the writing on the wall. She could see the crowds and the notoriety that Jesus’ bringing Lazarus back to life had brought upon Jesus and his followers. He had been laying low for a time, but now there was no hiding. Everyone knew what Jesus could do, the common people were flocking to follow him and the violent and oppressive religious and political authorities were feeling more threatened than ever. And so Mary, full of gratitude, preemptive grief, and capital-L Love, anoints Jesus in this deeply intimate way. Mary knew. And she acted accordingly.
It is so tempting to bury our heads in the sand these days. In fact, I would say it goes beyond tempting, and is actually important to do it to some extent, for the sake of our own mental health, so that we don’t catastrophize and end up in a pit of anxiety or despair— but every so often, I force myself to read some articles and keep up with headlines; I to check in with op-ed writers and columnists that tend to give me a little hope. We can’t completely disengage like the chosen twelve were so determined to do. They wanted so badly to believe that Jesus would physically be forever with them, and that in their lifetimes Jesus would become some kind of supreme ruler, overthrowing the Roman Empire and lording over a utopian paradise. But that didn’t happen. That was never going to happen. That wasn’t Jesus’ purpose. Yes, the ultimate goal is an earth as it is in heaven, but it was never going to happen in this earthly way the disciples were assuming.
And for whatever reason, Mary knew. Mary understood what Jesus had been telling his disciples all along. Maybe she was a better listener. Maybe she was more intuitive. Maybe she was just a little smarter than your average disciple. But how and why she knew doesn’t matter. What matters is that Mary was facing reality. She was preparing for what was to come
I know a lot of people are scared right now. I know a lot of people are worried. I’m one of them. Innocent people are being kidnapped by the state as, essentially, political prisoners—some by accident, some very purposeful and calculated. People have watched their retirement savings be absolutely decimated overnight. The anxiety, the tension, the uncertainty in the air has only gotten worse. Those who don’t want to believe that things are that bad, or those who want to be dismissive of people’s fear may be incredulous, like Judas, whether or not their motives are genuine. I can understand that. I have sympathy for that. I don’t want to face the facts either. It feels bad and scary, to put it in simple terms.
There’s a quote from the Maya Angelou that, for years, has made the rounds on the internet, it’s gotten kind of meme-ified unfortunately, and when that happens, I think, quotes tend to lose some of their oomph—but that quote is, “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.” This quote is usually taken in a negative light— sort of a spin on the saying “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me,” but it can be taken in a positive light as well. When someone says something, does something, shows you who they are clearly, believe them—Jesus showed his followers time and again who he was—with his deep passion for the poor and othered; with his healing actions and his loving presence; and he told them clearly, that he would die painfully, and rise again. And it seems like Mary was the only one who really heard him, who really believed him. Mary was the only one who was able to face reality and prepare herself, and Jesus in such an intimate and loving way, for what was to come.
But this Angelou quote can be a negative too— when people who you who they are, believe them the first time. When this country shows you what it is now, believe it. When you see videos of state-sanctioned kidnappings, face them, and prepare. When you see people cursing the loss of their savings, worried about how much more it will cost next time they need their car repaired, believe and feel that anxiety, and prepare. When you see anger and bitterness, when you see violence and hear bigotry, do not bury your heads in the sand, do not pretend everything is fine. Do not assume that because we’ve always bounced back before so we there’s no need to worry this time…
Now, please know, when I bring these difficult subjects up in sermons, it’s not to sow more fear, and it’s not to shame or to guilt-trip. I do my best to follow the example of Jesus who preached hope and peace and love and salvation— but in doing so revealed uncomfortable truths, and never hid the fact that fighting for that perfect world would be difficult.
Remember, Jesus was doing a brand new thing. Because the times in which he lived called for that. The times in which he lived called for something beyond what people knew. It called for something beyond the violence and dominance of empire, it called for something beyond the earthly machinations of the status quo. It called for an end to hierarchy, and end to violence, and end to hatred, and end to the oppressive ways of old.
Isaiah 43, “I am about to do a new thing; / now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” The new thing the prophet spoke of was not hurting people, it was not about bringing pain or suffering, or difficult times—“I will make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” The only reason the path is so much more painful than it needs to be is because we are “…setting [our] minds not on divine things but on human things.”
Last year in my Easter sermon, I talked about the theologian Jurgen Moltmann’s concept of “anticipatory vision” in regards to the resurrection—that it was anticipating the kingdom to come, an earth as it is in heaven. But before we can get to the anticipatory vision of the perfect world that is possible, Mary has an anticipatory vision of the pain that would come first. She had a vision of the grief that lay ahead, and so she took a moment to show Jesus what he meant to her; and she took a moment to show the disciples a preview of what they could not bear to face. I believe she had a divine vision and a knowledge of what was to come and acted in a way that was right, but not at all what one would expect—it was a quiet and deeply loving gesture.
We only have a little more time left on our Lenten journey this year. We too, can prepare and show up in unexpected ways. We too can build up the strength to make it known, in our small corner of the world right here, that we are full of love and compassion and gratitude for the good that is still present in the world. We will temper any incredulity or cynicism that may build in us; we will not bury our heads in the sand. We will act as Mary did, we must understand what she knew—that we must face violence and cruelty with compassion and love. Amen.
