You Will Not Always Have Me: Mirror and Magnify Love

 

It was at the house of Simon the Leper in Bethany. No, no, the event happened at the house of Simon the Pharisee in Galilee. I agree that the event was in Bethany, but it happened at the house of Lazarus.

 

Well, there is no question that it was a woman who put ointment on Jesus’ head. You mean a sinful woman anointed Jesus’ feet with ointment and tears.  No, it was costly ointment with nard and no tears, followed by wiping the feet with her hair. Really folks, it was Mary of Bethany.

 

Can we agree that there was objection to the act of anointing. Oh yes, Simon the Pharisee is clear -what righteous man would allow a woman to touch him in that way. No, the objection came from the disciples. No, it was ‘some people’ who stated that the ointment could have been sold for a large sum of money and given to the poor. Mmmm - It was definitely Judas.

 

The story of Jesus being anointed is uniquely told by each Gospel writer. The nuances in the story aren’t there to dissuade us from following Jesus or interpreting the scripture as anything but the Word of God. The nuances of the story allow for a deeper reflection on the pieces and characters in the story. It is a story rich and heavy with feelings, contradictions, and touching themes humans prefer to ignore. Each Gospel illuminates an alternative path of exploration, opening up a wealth of knowing and a variety of applications.

 

The context of this story from John’s Gospel is important to note as we reflect on the story of Mary anointing Jesus. Much of the previous chapter, Chapter 11, is the telling of the death of Lazarus. The story is graphic in the details of death. There is a tomb closed with a stone. There is a dead body inside wrapped in cloth.  And as Martha states when Jesus wants to open the tomb, there is already a stench of death.

Time has passed. Jesus, in chapter 12, returns to Bethany and there is no stench of death. In contrast today’s story tells of the air being rich and heavy with expensive and extravagantly used fragrant ointment.

 

The context of this event at Lazarus’ house is important. This is not just a happy story of Jesus visiting his friends and sharing a meal. The ointment used for anointing was ointment used at burials to prepare the dead body and honour the dead. Imagine being gather in a room with a group of people around a table, shoulder to shoulder. One might think of a cozy Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner with a warm room full of friends and family. If one adds fragrant ointment into the scene, what happens? The smell is strong and it permeates everything! The room would smell like a tomb after the burial preparations with spiced ointment was complete. I wonder if the author realized the image created - this group is in a tomb of sorts.

I say this because context matters. In chapter 11, after the raising of Lazarus, Jesus’ life is threatened. Verse 54 states that, Jesus therefore no longer walked about openly … In chapter 12: 9-11, while at the intimate inside dinner party, those outside Jesus’ circle came, not only because of Jesus, but also to see Lazarus, … the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many …  were deserting and were believing in Jesus. This whole story happens amid present danger and imminent threat of death.

 

This context changes how I hear and experience the story. With bounties on the heads of Jesus and Lazarus the whole conversation at the table is nauseatingly trivial; a conversational escapism and avoidance of matters at hand -matters of life and death.

Jesus enters the conversation to shut it down and redirect it to that of grave importance.

Jesus shuts down the conversation saying to Judas -and anyone else who would enter the argument - Leave her alone. Jesus then brings focus back to the point, you do not always have me.

And with that Jesus has articulated the deepest unspoken fear in the room. In that earthly tomb of trying to have a happy dinner party, smiles on faces, enjoying each others’ company, the truth is that they are all scared. Scared of the outsiders just beyond the door. Scared of what happens if -when- Jesus dies. Scared or troubled by the inevitable change brought about through the Messiah and the coming of God’s kindom. Scared to death by seven primal fear: death, rejection, failure, uncertainty, pain, the unknown, and loss of control.  

Jesus courts the conversation, you do not always have me.

 

For the reader of the story -you do not always have me- is most often read as a foreshadowing of Jesus’ death. However, what if it is meant to be more than that? In the Gospel of John the conversation that Jesus puts before his gathered followers is a conversation that doesn’t happen, or if it does it is not record. The story ends with Jesus speaking these words– you do not always have me. What if the conversation is left open because the statement is meant to centre our focus on Jesus who articulates humanities deepest unspoken fears?

Death, rejection, failure, uncertainty, pain, the unknown, and loss of control. All these fears are at work in this mornings Gospel text.

 

The context is import. Amid deep unspoken fears, Jesus is present for the followers gathered in Bethany – and present for us, not physically but in risen form and spirit form unknown to dinner party attendees of the 1^st century. We note that in Jesus’ presence much transpires that is wholesome and healing, life-giving:

Hospitality was given at the house of Lazarus. Martha served. Lazarus acted as host. Mary washed feet.

Judas asked a question. This question asked at any other time seems like the very sort of question the disciples would talk about, Jesus would teach on, or lead to the sharing of a parable.

The side comments, written in the text in brackets, about Judas’ stealing and his later betrayal of Jesus are added here in juxtaposition to the household of Lazarus. Perhaps harsh, for we don’t know why Judas’ stole from the purse. What is not noted in actual words, is that Jesus had Judas as one of the disciples. Whatever Judas did with the money from the common purse was from Jesus’ perspective not worth mentioning or confronting him about. Judas was included. Everyone gathered at the table and ate together.

 

 My takeaway from this reading of the Gospel story is a call to sit with Jesus’ statement, you will not always have me. If I sit with this statement and reflect on it, meaning on humanity’s -well my- deepest fears; rather than on the trivial conversations that occupy head and heart space, maybe then there will be wholeness, healing, and that which is life-giving in my own life and in the lives of others gathered at around the table.

 

Civil rights activist James Baldwin wrote – the longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love – whether we call it friendship or family or romance – is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.

 

In that fragrant rich room in the house of Lazarus of Bethany, Jesus states their greatest fear. Jesus sits in the truth that he is to die. The one who earlier in the Gospel states: “I am the Light of the World,” will not longer be light in physical form. Surrounded by death and the smell of ointment and in it being alive, knowing death will come, do not be afraid. God’s glory will soon be seen in Jesus’ radiance – love. Mirror and magnify each other’s light. You will not always have me, but I will be present among you. Watch for me in the face of a clear-eyed person beaming love towards you – for it is God’s love.