The generous life Jesus invites us to live into isn’t about being prudent and cost-effective. It’s about scandalous generosity.
For Sunday
The Fifth Sunday of Lent
Collect
Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
Reading
From John 12:1-8
“The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”
Reflection
Mary gets up, opens up a bunch of expensive ointment, and anoints Jesus using her hair. I’m not sure most of us truly know what to do with that information. Back in the days when I had long hair, I’d occasionally get it in my mouth while eating. Which was totally annoying. But I never cleaned anything with it.
And I didn’t anoint anyone with it.
We must think of this as a kind of amazing sacrifice. But obviously one for that moment, right? Not something for us. Right? Right?
The evangelist paints the picture to bring us into that moment, for sure. But I also think, the wafting fragrance in the room reminds us of all that is happening there is covering everyone alike. Yes, Jesus is getting anointed by Mary, but the scent is smelled by everyone. The sight is seen by everyone. They all get to experience it. And through the evangelist’s words, even we get to experience it.
Then Judas busts in with words so incredibly familiar any of us could have said them. Because many of us have said them (or something like them): “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”
The narrator kindly buts in to remind us that Judas didn’t actually mean it “for realsies” because he was a thief. So, I suppose, that implies that he’s mad that he didn’t get to steal his cut of that.
But what is our excuse for making that same argument?
We aren’t thieves trying to steal from the common purse, of course. But I think we often have less than genuine reasons for opposing imprudence. And besides, even the genuine response to imprudence is a rejection of Jesus’s generous grace.
And then, of course, Jesus’s words, which remind us of that very generous grace: “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” Reminding us to celebrate and honor with generous hearts. Those words get twisted so often to do the opposite: to do nothing to help the poor. As if it doesn’t matter. The very opposite vision than the one Jesus offers.
All of this hangs in the air when we read this story. Jesus’s generosity and our stinginess. We certainly don’t cast ourselves as the bad guy, the thief. But we do struggle to embody what Jesus is actually asking us to do.
To celebrate and honor without being cheap. Lavishly isn’t quite the word, but it’s close. Offering what you have…without an eye toward “cost-effectiveness.” Putting generosity above maximizing anything. In other words, giving grace generously.