Monday in Holy Week

['preached' on the internet]
As a preface…

For seventeen years straight, I celebrated daily Holy Eucharist during Holy Week. (For eight years before, I attended daily Holy Eucharist during Holy Week.) I did so for several reasons: first, to provide for those few who wanted fully to journey from Palm Sunday to Easter without skipping the days; second, to let the rest of the congregation know that there were a few people who were praying on their behalf and third, to allow me qua individual to pray in ways that the latter portion of Holy Week sometimes did not allow because of all the preparation.

This year, as part of my continued desert time, I find myself without an altar or community in which to mark the progression of the gospel narrative. I may not be able to partake of daily communion, but I can still read, mark, digest and inwardly learn the scripture which has become an old friend (I still use the BCP lectionary for this week).

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Mary comes to Jesus with nard to anoint his feet which she then wipes with her hair. She comes to him as he visits his dear friend, Lazarus in Bethany… the one place where Jesus can relax, be out of the public eye and, at this point, escape scrutiny of those who wish to destroy him. It is scandalous what she does — first, she dares to approach the teacher. Second, her action is so incredibly sensual, something we would expect more to find in the Song of Songs than in the Fourth Gospel, as she anoints his feet and wipes them with her hair. Third, she uses the most expensive perfume there is, nard.

Judas Iscariot, hardly the voice of integrity, whines at Jesus about the wasted money. Jesus of the Gospel according to John, who knows what is to happen, simply replies that Mary is preparing for Jesus’ burial at which time she will anoint his body.

The gospel in this conversation propels us forward to the moment in the last supper when Jesus will wash his disciples’ feet. Here though, a week before Passover, Mary does for Jesus what he will later offer his own.

The act of anointing Jesus provides a moment of tender intimacy in the face of impending death. She ministers to him in a way that no one else has or can. Does she know that he is walking toward the cross? Does she know what awaits him when he finally arrives in Jerusalem? My heart says yes.

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We have participated in or witnessed moments of incredible tenderness in the midst of incredible sadness or even death. Several years ago, I entered a hospital room to visit a parishioner whose cancer had gotten the upper hand. As I arrived, the parishioner was receiving a massage. As I watched the masseur work on her body, and noted her face — eyes shut, calm, pale — I knew I was witnessing a Mary moment. The tenderness of the masseur’s touch, rendered smooth by the oils he was using, that brought momentary healing and peace, was as powerful as the fragrance of nard filling the room. I said nothing, did not even announce my arrival but sat and watched, knowing how I was standing on holy ground and that heaven and earth had come close in that moment. I knew deep in my heart that the masseur was preparing her body for burial just as Mary had for Jesus so long ago. When the parishioner died less than two weeks later, I thought back to the masseur’s loving touch and took solace in the knowledge that while we may not have massaged the parishioner at the time of her death, she had been blessed already.

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Not all of us will have the occasion to anoint someone or give them a massage in a way that will prepare them for their death into new life. But we all have the opportunity to accompany others into the depths, as they invite us. We all have the opportunity to witness to them God’s abiding love that has been with them and us since before our beginning. We all have the opportunity to be extravagant, giving from our abundance to those who so desperately need release — the blind, the prisoners, those who sit in darkness. We all have the opportunity to declare to those who need an encouraging word that the former things have come to pass and new things shall spring forth.

That message of liberation, pardon and love is even more extravagant than the most costly perfume or nard in the world. The best part is that you and I have been called to share it. So, let us be about doing so.