Costly Sacrifice

Reading Philippians 3.4b-14

If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ – the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenwards in Christ Jesus.

Gospel John 12.1-8

Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honour. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”

Sermon

It often seems to me that Scripture thrives on contrasts. Light and Dark. Good and Evil. Life and Death. Love and hatred.

Paul’s words to the Philippians are written from prison. There he has plenty of time to think. He contrasts profit and loss as he reflects on his own past, present and future.

The phrase a person with a past usually conjures up an image of someone who has a lot to hide which they would prefer to leave behind. Pauls past deeds were to persecute the church to which he now belongs. His credentials and a Pharisee were impeccable. That was his profit and pride – at the time. His birth. His education. His zeal for Judaism.

In his present, he looks back on the past in a different light. What was, for him, reason for boasting he now likens to dung or rubbish. Something of no value. What, in the past, gave him his status, he now regards as worse what worthless.

Still, Paul is a product of what he was. His theological education if formidably brought to bear when he writes to the churches and expounds to them the faith of Christ. But what qualified Paul in his past to rule others is now what drives him to be a servant of all.

His standing is now based not on observance of the Law but on his faithfulness. It is through his faith in Christ that Paul is enabled to view the past differently.

How we view the future has as much impact on the present as the past. Despair for the future makes us feel trapped in the present. On the other hand, a sense of hope profoundly affects the way we feel right now. Pauls hope is in the resurrection. That is his future, and it changes the way he lives in the present. The present, for Paul, means sharing in the sufferings of Christ, but the future is the prize for which he strains forward.

Lent is a good time for reflecting on the past, as well as how our past impacts on all our futures. In our gospel reading there are many stark contrasts. The past involves Jesus’ ministry before he arrives in Bethany and turns inexorably towards the present reality of Jerusalem.

Sitting at the table is Lazarus, who was brought back to life. The stench of Lazarus’ tomb is contrasted with Mary of Bethany’s perfume. The meanness of Judas is contrasted with the extravagance of Mary’s gesture in anointing Jesus’ feet with costly oil of nard – a pot of which would have cost the equivalent of a year’s wages for an ordinary working man.

Let’s accept at the outset that Judas’ objections are understandable. If we spent a year’s salary on perfume for a loved one, many folks will suggest we might have spent the money more wisely, especially in a country where there was poverty and deprivation at every street corner.

John the evangelist takes the opportunity of pointing out Judas would have stolen some of the money from the common purse, but that does not make his point any less valid.

Picture the scene. It is truly shocking. A woman would normally be hidden away and her hair would never be on view in a public place. Feet were considered such an intimate part of the body that only a slave would have been expected to wash the feet of another. Yet Mary removes her veil, lets down her hair, and wipes the feet of Jesus. The whole house is filled with the fragrance. There is a mixture of wonder mixed with horror at the intimacy and impact of what Mary has done.

There is undoubtedly an erotic air to the whole event, but surely rather than focus on Judas or Mary, we are meant to see this extravagant gesture as prefiguring the anointing of Christ’s body for burial after his death on the cross. To the objectors, Jesus defends Mary. The poor are always with you – you always have the poor among you, but I will not be with you much longer, Jesus says.

Our Lenten reflections are informed by the events of the last days of Jesus’ life on earth. The fragrance of the perfume strikes a contrast with his death and burial, but also illustrates the costly sacrifice of Mary of Bethany, what it meant for her to carry out such a gesture, and what it says about her discipleship from the intimacy and value of her gift.

Mary does not anoint Jesus as a king or messiah: she embalms a corpse. The beautiful scent clashes with the hideous stench of an ugly crucifixion, but then so does John’s insistence that Jesus is lifted up on the cross that he may attract all people to himself (12.32)

This is what Paul is saying when he reflects on his future – it is not unalloyed joy and pleasure, because the future still means sharing in the suffering of Christ, dying with him on the cross, being prepared for sacrifice whatever that might require of us.

That is why Paul is careful to distinguish between present and future time, and in our Lenten reflections we should do the same. Resurrection is the hope – it is not our present reality. Believing we have already obtained what is yet to come leads to carelessness, overconfidence, and casual discipleship rather than wholehearted straining with all our might for the prize that Paul is holding out for himself and for us.

This is not martyrdom. It is a call to live out our faithfulness to Christ. How we respond to this call will spring from our Lenten reflections on the past, because the present puts down roots in the past, out of which the future reality will grow.

So, as we enter Passiontide let’s live out these two weeks until Easter reflecting on our past, and preparing for the future just as Mary looked ahead to the death and resurrection of Christ in her costly sacrifice and wholehearted discipleship. Amen