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Sermon for April 2, 2006

An Extravagant Offering

John 12:1-11

I’m a dead man. Yeah, you heard me right. I’m a dead man. At least I was. Certified, and mummified -- buried in the family tomb. I wish I could explain to you what it feels like to be dead. I just don’t have colorful enough words in my vocabulary to paint it for you. I can tell you this: There was nothing romantic or beautiful about it. Death is an offense to beauty. No matter how hard you try, a corpse is never attractive. No embalmer’s art can change that. So, maybe your wondering how a dead man gets to stand up here and speak to you. Let me tell you what happened. This is going to blow your mind. There I lay - lifeless in a dark crypt for four days (Not that I had any concept of time passing). It was just dark...until I heard that voice–familiar, anguished, and inviting. It was like I heard a whisper in the back of my head saying, “Lazarus, come out,” and I just couldn’t help it. I got up and walked out of the crypt right to Jesus. And let me tell you, did that freak people out! I can just imagine what it must have looked like to others–this linen-wrapped mummy-man lumbering out of a dark tomb into the hot Mediterranean sun. I remember seeing my sisters, Mary and Martha, gape-mouthed and weeping for joy. Most of all, I remember Jesus’ tear-soaked, enraptured face.

Well, as you can imagine, we had a BIG party. When the power of God raises you from the dead and gives you a new lease on life, you don’t just shake hands, go out for a drink, and say, “Thanks man, I owe you one.” Especially when it all happened to someone like me. I mean, I’m not a well-known person in this town. I’m not a politician or a religious leader. Just a regular, hard-working sort of guy. But, Jesus, my friend, came to me and gave me my life back. No, you don’t let that go without having a big celebration.

All kinds of people were there. I’m kind of a people watcher myself. So I just took everything in: Jesus and the disciples, some friends and neighbors. Others were gathering outside, trying to get a peak at me and Jesus through the windows. And my sister Martha was bustling around as usual. Martha is a practical woman. She shows love by keeping busy. Always cooking and cleaning. She gets frantic about details when we have parties, especially when Jesus is here. Everything has to be just right. Usually she’s bossing me around. “Lazarus, go get some more water. Don’t forget to start up the barbeque. Make sure everyone has enough to eat.”–Things like that. She wasn’t bossing me around at this party, though. I was the guest of honor. I sat at the head table with Jesus, just watching everything happen.

My other sister Mary is just the opposite of Martha. She’s not really a detail person. I’ve never known Mary to have emotional outbursts. But you should have seen her at my party. She came out of the back room with a clay pot, about the size of a pint jar. She broke the cap off it, and the luxuriant fragrance of perfume filled the air. This was not cheap Syrian toilette water, either. The stuff cost $10,000, imported directly from India. It was the most precious thing Mary owned.

I was taking a drink from my cup when she broke the jar and poured the perfume over Jesus’ feet. I was so shocked I practically showered everyone with the water in my mouth as I choked on it (which, by the way, wouldn’t have made Martha happy. I can hear her now, “Lazarus, I swear you live in a barn. Use some manners. We have company.”) Anyway --Mary could have splashed a couple of drops of perfume in Jesus’ direction as a token of thanks. My sister Mary doesn’t do things halfway. She went and poured the whole bottle over the Lord’s feet. Not his head, like I expected, but his feet. The odd thing was, she wouldn’t even look Jesus in the eyes. It’s almost as if she didn’t want to be recognized. She just poured out the perfume and then began to wipe it with the hair on her head. You have to understand, in my world, women don’t go around in mixed company with their hair loose. When a girl is married her hair is bound up, and it’s never seen flowing loose in public again. Only immoral women appear in public with loose hair. So, here is my sister, acting like a cheap floozy with the guy who saved my life.

Now that some time has gone by, I realize that Mary didn’t really care what the rest of us thought. It reminds me of when two people are really in love–they are in a world of their own. Remember, I’m a people watcher. I see how people act when they are captivated by each other. They steal quick hand touches and eye glances. They rejoice that the world sees their love. Or have you ever seen a child who is free and uninhibited? She just loves what she’s doing at that moment, no matter who is watching. That’s Mary. At that moment, it was only Mary and her Lord.

Looking back on things, maybe Mary was the only follower who had good focus that night. I remember how irritated Judas was. Judas was always a little critical of others. Judas reminds of a joke I heard:

While traveling separately through the countryside a Hindu, a Rabbi, and a Critic were caught in a terrific thunderstorm. They sought shelter at a nearby farmhouse. “That storm will be raging for hours.” The farmer told them. “You ought to spend the night. The problem is there is only room for two in the house. One of you must sleep in the stable.” “I’ll be the one,” said the Hindu. “A little hardship is nothing to me.” And he went to the stable. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was the Hindu. “I’m sorry he said to the others, but there is a cow in the barn. Cows are sacred creatures and I cannot impose.” “Don’t worry said the Rabbi, make yourself comfortable. I will go sleep in the stable” A few minutes later there was another knock at the door. It was the Rabbi. “I hate to be a bother,” he said, “but there is a pig in the stable. In my religion pigs are unclean, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping near a pig.” “Oh, all right said the Critic, “I’ll go sleep in the stable.” A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. It was the pig and the cow.

The point is, nobody likes a critic. So we all rolled our eyes when Judas opened his mouth. “What a colossal waste!” he cried out. “Lady, you could have sold that perfume and given the profits to us so we can help the poor. Instead you just dumped it out.” There was nothing but silence in the room. Mary paused only for a moment before she went back to wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair.

Most people knew Judas was a crook. We never knew why Jesus let him hold the money. I guess Jesus saw something in that guy that the rest of us didn’t. Well, Judas was seeing dollar signs. In a sense, I guess I was too. I thought to myself, “Laz, Judas has a point. There are better things to do with valuable perfume than pour it on someone’s stinky feet. It’s really not rational. How are we going to live if Mary wastes our treasures? It’s not responsible to our family. Why not sell it, and give a small percentage of the proceeds to charity? We could feed a few poor people. We could buy a few things we want around the house. We could put it away and send the nieces and nephews to school.” Mary kept wiping the Master’s feet with her hair, almost hypnotically. As I watched her my thoughts were filled with a list of ten more things we could do with $10,000. Then Jesus spoke. “Leave her alone,” he said. Jesus bent down, and lifted Mary’s head up to met her eyes. Jesus looked right at her with discerning eyes and a knowing smile, but he was talking to the rest of us. “She was saving this perfume for this moment. She’s getting me ready for my death. There will always be poor people to give to. Let’s worry about them another time. You don’t always have me here.”

We had no idea what the man was talking about. We said things like, “Jesus, you’re not going to die soon. Knock it off. You’re going to bust up the party.” It turns out that as we were overprotecting Jesus, some priests were plotting how to kill him. I heard they even put a hit out on me. I guess they were a little jealous over the competition. At any rate, Jesus knew he was going to die. He raised me to new life, and the price for it was his own life.

Here I am, a man who has the chance to start everything new. Jesus gave me a opportunity to set a new life in motion. Nothing has to be the same.. You know, there are some things we can do almost any time; and there are some things that we will never do unless we seize the moment when it comes. I have so often been captured with the desire to do something big-hearted and then I put it off until tomorrow. When tomorrow comes, the impulse is gone, the passion has burned out, and the opportunity is lost. If I’ve learned one thing from being a dead man, it’s that life is uncertain. We are moved to share some words of thanks, or praise, or love, but we put it off, and who knows if that person will be around tomorrow to hear it? It’s like what Jesus said. The poor will always be around, but he wouldn’t. The night of my party, Jesus gave us the opportunity to love him. Mary knew it

I guess it’s really not about the money. It’s not the amount of the gift, but it’s what we give. Mary gave more to Jesus than a pint of remarkably expensive perfume. The most costly, the most extravagant thing she offered was her devotion to Jesus. Her love of Jesus made the costly perfume seem cheap in comparison. When I realized how I was holding back, I felt cheap in comparison, too.

I still smell that perfume in the house. Every time I walk into the front room, my nostrils are satisfied with a sweet reminder of what Mary did to show her love for Jesus. I owe my new life to Jesus. And what do I have to offer? What’s my most extravagant offering? My money? My time? My expensive gifts? Mary taught me that those don’t mean a thing if I can’t also express my gratitude through love. Mary’s perfume reminds me to do it now. The chance may never come again, and missed opportunities may bring the bitterest remorse of all

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