John 12:1-11 (NLT)
Six days before the Passover celebration began, Jesus arrived in Bethany, the home of Lazarus—the man he had raised from the dead. A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him. Then Mary took a twelve-ounce jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard, and she anointed Jesus’ feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance.
But Judas Iscariot, the disciple who would soon betray him, said, “That perfume was worth a year’s wages. It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.” Not that he cared for the poor—he was a thief, and since he was in charge of the disciples’ money, he often stole some for himself.
Jesus replied, “Leave her alone. She did this in preparation for my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
When all the people heard of Jesus’ arrival, they flocked to see him and also to see Lazarus, the man Jesus had raised from the dead. Then the leading priests decided to kill Lazarus, too, for it was because of him that many of the people had deserted them and believed in Jesus.
Yes, we are to care for the poor. Yes, we are to do all sorts of good works. We should commit a significant portion of our resources to the work Jesus calls us to do, caring for people living on the edge of ruin and death.
In this story, however, is a remarkable idea, one that even some very good-hearted people might find confusing. Honoring Jesus Christ—who he is and what he has done for the world on the cross—takes precedence over all other motivations and actions.
The story of Mary anointing Jesus is a story of extravagant thanks. Jesus had recently restored to life Mary and Martha’s brother, after Lazarus had decomposed in a tomb for four days.
Mary took what was probably her life savings, her security, and used it all at once to honor the one who had granted this miracle. The stench of death had been the sisters’ great fear; now, a perfumed declaration of joy filled the room, emanating from the one who had driven death away. If you’ve never smelled spikenard, know that it is sweet and musky, an earthy, lively odor. Try to imagine peat from the Garden of Eden.
Even though Judas’ motivation likely was theft, some people might agree with his stated objection—the pouring out of all that nard in one place can seem like an awful waste! These likely would be people who take a strictly humanist approach to solving the problems of the world, saying if people would just act right and do enough good, with enough efficiency, most of the problems of the world would go away.
Christians see that as a cart-before-horse assertion, however. God is our motivator. God provides the power. In John 17:20-26, we hear Jesus root his relationship in the Father, and then Jesus prays that we will be similarly rooted in the Father and Son. Even altruistic actions properly begin with an understanding of who we are in relation to God.
If we are to develop that relationship, we need to stop now and then to give extravagant and even inefficient thanks. Then, rightly motivated, we will see God pour grace into us until it spills out of our church and onto the world.
In fact, grace can arrive in such abundance that efficiency becomes at most a side-issue. Remember the stories of Jesus feeding the multitudes—all those leftovers indicate efficiency was not something the disciples needed during the distribution.
Great works have always happened through Christ’s church. People living on the edge of ruin constantly find themselves pulled back from the brink by people with a firm grip on God, the anchor for all altruism.
Lord, we offer thanks for who you are today, and we consider in our hearts what we might do to show extravagant thanks. May we revel in the inefficiency of it all. Amen.
Methodist Life 