Sermon for 5 Lent C

March 28, 2004

The Rev. Sandra Dower

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church

Read the lessons for 5 Lent here.

“I am about to do a new thing,” says the Lord in Isaiah. “Do you not perceive it?” What a good question! It seems to be the human condition to overlook the “new thing” when something happens, in favor of comparing it to the old. How many new things do we miss because we are dwelling on old hurts, old failures, old arguments, old grief?

Martha didn’t miss the “new thing” that had happened in her life, and I don’t just mean the raising of her brother from the dead, although that was an event amazing enough to ponder for the rest of her life. No, the new thing I am referring to here is our Lord. She could have dwelt on the fact that this man, this Messiah, didn’t come riding in on a white charger with armed minions behind him to overthrow the government. This is what many thought the Messiah would do. Jesus certainly did not look like the Messiah everyone hoped for. But Martha says, “Yes Lord, I believe you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” Mary anoints his feet, in this story from John. In the midst of the celebration surrounding the miraculous raising of Lazarus, Mary performs a burial ritual. She seemed to be perceiving the “New Thing” that was happening and was going to happen.

Many who were first attracted to Jesus were disappointed then when he didn’t fulfill their old idea of a Savior, and they left him. His own disciples, the ones John tells us that having loved them in the world, Jesus loved them to the end, deserted him at the cross. What was the “new thing” they had missed?

When the women tried to tell the disciples about the empty tomb, the disciples didn’t perceive what was happening. Nor did those on the road to Emmaus, until Christ revealed himself to them in the breaking of the bread. Their abilities to perceive the new thing were distorted by their grief.

I have missed many “new things” because I have clung to old beliefs and concerns. In the midst of wistful remembering of a son’s childhood, I missed the new stride of confidence as he set off on an adventure to Mexico. Slogging around in the mud and unwelcome snow of March, I miss the new tinge of magenta on the sumac as it prepares for spring. Buried under tons of readings, I miss the interpretation that sheds new light on the Gospel.

In the solemn days of Lent, I can miss the message that is newly given each year on the day of the Annunciation: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son whom you will name Jesus.” How appropriate that in these unsettled days of snow, mud, and upheaval in the world we should hear again the words of the angel Gabriel, and the faithful response of Mary, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” In her faithful response, Mary trusts in God and in this “New Thing”, and becomes the God-Bearer.

Here is a question for us to ponder, individually and as a proclaimed Body of Christ; what would we have said if we had been at that celebration and had witnessed Mary breaking open a costly jar of perfume to anoint the feet of Jesus? Put aside the little slam against Judas in this passage from John; it doesn’t show up in the other Gospel accounts of this event. Just put yourself into the drama as a bystander.

Your friend, Lazarus, has been raised from the dead by this man Jesus that everyone is talking about. You have come to the celebration both to honor Lazarus and to see this Jesus. You have heard that Jesus heals the sick, raises the dead, tells stories that seem to have deeper messages than one can at first understand. You have also heard that he claims that it is the poor who are God’s special interest.

As you are watching and listening, Mary, one of the sisters of Lazarus, comes into the room, falls on her knees before Jesus, and breaks open an expensive jar of perfume. Now, you happen to know that this stuff is worth about 300 denari, not a paltry sum, by any means. In astonishment, you see her pour it on the man’s feet, and then wipe it with her hair! What is this? One does this kind of anointing in only two cases in your culture. The one is to declare someone king, or Messiah. The other is to anoint a body for burial. WHAT IS SHE DOING!

Someone standing close to Jesus objects, “Hey, why are you letting that woman waste that expensive lotion? Shouldn’t we sell it and give the money to the poor?” Are these your thoughts, exactly? Are you incensed that this man who says he cares for the poor and disenfranchised is allowing this terrible waste to happen? Would you perceive the “New Thing” that God had planned?

Much has been made of the line, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” It has been used to justify opposition to social programs and to deny services for the poor. However, Jesus is not saying the poor need not be taken care of, but that this spontaneous outpouring of love will not take away from the poor. The deeper meaning of this statement is that the passion is approaching, that his life on earth is about to end.

We have the fortune of knowing the end of the story. Mary, the mother of Jesus, had been told that this son of hers would be called the Son of the Most High, so perhaps she had an understanding that a “New Thing” was coming. Martha had an inkling of an idea. Something drove Mary, Lazarus’ other sister to anoint Jesus. But where would we have stood?

So, there are really two questions: the first is do we miss the “New Things” that come our way because we consider only the things of old, and secondly, do we perceive the “New Thing” of the passion, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ? And if we do perceive the implications of this “New Thing”, do we act upon them? Do we “love to tell the story”, as the old hymn proclaims? Do we live as an Easter people? And do we remember that in our baptism we became the New Things?

Episcopalians often find it difficult to proclaim their faith in words. We are quite good at sharing our goods and services with others. But when it comes to declaring that we are Christians and we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, we are more reticent. We have a wonderful story to tell. We can tell of the compassion of God. We can bring the hope of redemption to a broken world. We can tell the rest of the story, and go beyond the tragedy of the passion to proclaim the Resurrection. We can share with everyone the New Thing God did through Jesus Christ.