Generosity and greed.  We see both, here.  We know which reflects Christ, which is worthy of the name of Christ.  We love generosity and strive to be generous.  It comes more easily to some than others.  Maybe some feel as if life hasn’t been generous to them, with the result that it’s hard for them to be generous.  To say life hasn’t been generous, though, is to call attention to a fundamental truth: life isn’t easy for any of us.  Our common trouble is that, too often, we seek things, expect and even demand things out of this life that life here cannot give, no matter what the world says.

We see ourselves as Mary—making costly gifts of generous love.  Through Mary, we glimpse Christ, God Himself, making costly gifts of generous love.  We strive to be generous, yet when we sit with our hearts in company with the Spirit, we begin to perceive what we don’t want to see.  We don’t want to, we can’t see ourselves as Judas: resentful, prideful, deceptive—with himself as well as others—greedy for what he can get his hands on in this world.  No, nobody sees the Judas in his or her own heart.  That’s the Tempter’s opportunity.  Each of us, including me, have our blind spots, and that’s just where the Tempter draws near.  Knowing that, though, you and I can prepare.

I always feel staggered by Mary’s lavish, exotic gift!  In a certain sense, she has brought the world to Jesus.  This oil was infused with an aromatic plant that grew along the foothills of the Himalaya Mountains—Kashmir, Nepal—some three thousand miles from Judea.  That’s like from here to Newfoundland, Canada.  A world away.  If a caravan from Asia were in a hurry to get to Judea—and they weren’t—it would still take some three months, probably more.  The hands that cultivated the plants there below the snow-topped mountains, the hands that harvested and packed, the people who transported this precious commodity across a continent and those who prepared and bottled the oil—Mary didn’t just bring a jar.  She brought lives, hopes, hurts, and prayers to Jesus and poured them all out.

A pint, sixteen ounces-worth of oil.  Costly oil.  Rare, exotic, fragrant.  We don’t know exactly what it smelled like; I have some oil here that might be similar, infused with the same plant.  You’re welcome to come and smell, after worship.  Costly.  Many sacrifices, much labor, went into that oil.  Judas helpfully tells us that it could have been sold for a year’s wages (12:5).  An entire year’s-worth of labor for sixteen ounces of fragrant oil.  I did a little digging—the internet is great for this: the median hourly wage in the US in 2019 was $19.33, for an annual wage of just over $48,000.  That’s quite a sum for a pint of oil: $3,000 per ounce.

Maybe it’s with such calculations in mind that some suppose Lazarus and his sisters had wealth.  It’s possible.  This oil isn’t really about earthly wealth but the movement of the Spirit, the power of the Spirit to fire and light dedication to Jesus, zeal for Christ, and love.  Mary devoted herself, all her labor, all her effort and resources, to this one goal: to serve Jesus, to anoint Jesus.  To anoint the anointed.  Jesus came there that day, just six days before, we’re told (12:1)—before what?  He came as the Anointed One, Messiah.  The Spirit was upon him to proclaim good news, to heal, set free, forgive, and bless.

Why, then, does Mary anoint the Anointed?  Anointing was a sacred act.  The anointed was consecrated, set apart for a holy purpose.  Prophet, priest, king.  God anointed Jesus with the Spirit, and the Son came to be anointed with this oil just six days before he climbed a hill to climb a cross: holy purpose.  Jesus knows exactly what Mary is doing, even if Mary didn’t really understand, didn’t really know, except to know that something was urging her, moving her, to do this strange, lavish, loving, wonderful, sorrowful thing.  Let’s be resolved to live a little more like Mary.

Judas didn’t like it.  He didn’t like a lot of things, lately.  Mark tells us it wasn’t long after this that Judas arranged to betray Jesus, for money, not even a year’s wages (Mk 14:10-11).  At a first hearing, Judas seems to have a point.  Aren’t we called, by Jesus himself, to have concern for the poor?  If we aren’t helping the poor, how are we loving and serving Jesus?  Some people get really exercised, passionate, about that question.  Such questions can make us uncomfortable.  Maybe we ought to get just a little uncomfortable when we’re contemplating buying a 350 Super Duty King Ranch when a 150 XL will do.  Maybe we should get just a little uncomfortable when we’re considering a four-bedroom, three bath house for the two of us.  Wouldn’t that money be better spent upon relieving the poor, feeding the hungry?  So many who are poor.  So many who go hungry.

A time and place for all things.  Jesus points this out.  He isn’t giving us an excuse to ignore the poor.  He is pointing out that all service done in his name, all service given to honor him, done from love for him—all such service is blessed and blessing.  Live to bless the Lord, and you won’t go wrong.  Live your love for Jesus.

John tells us that Judas didn’t have any grounds for his seemingly pious, seemingly principled objection.  Seemingly-pious, seemingly-principled—that’s a caution for us all, as we walk with one another and Jesus through this world.  So many allurements, and our hearts, one degree by another, get seduced away, and we don’t see it, but Jesus sees it.

I don’t know what first drew Judas to Jesus—the Spirit?  How did Judas start off: doubting like Thomas, blustering and blundering, like Peter, full of questions, like all of them?  Judas heard the teaching, saw the power, experienced the glory, but also the hardship, the rejection, the inability to cure—maybe he didn’t want to spend so much time going without food, praying, and waiting.  You know, this religious life, living for Jesus and whatnot, it isn’t for everybody, right?  Dry, boring, self-denying, goody-goody—who can live that way, really?  But Judas saw the crowds, he noticed the large group of adoring women who followed everywhere Jesus went, how they gave him food, money.  Judas liked the popularity.  Judas liked to eat.  Judas liked the money.  He wasn’t the only one.

The Tempter knew this and sidled up to Judas’ blind spot—we all have a blind spot; if you’re like me, there are several.  We know some of them, so we can be prepared, if we will, if we keep vigilant and prayerful, stay close to the Word of God, and trust God’s Word more than ourselves.  But maybe each of us has at least one blind spot to which we are blind.  We’re told Judas was a thief: he helped himself out of the money bag (12:6).  Well, the treasurer ought to be paid, surely?  How many stories we have seen of otherwise good, decent, God-fearing people bilking their employers, their investors, their clients, out of even millions of dollars.  Fraud is just how business is done, this side of heaven.

Maybe Judas started off wanting to feed the sheep.  He also wanted to eat, be fed.  We can hear that around church: I’m just not being fed.  We all come wanting to be fed.  There’s a table before us today, beloved.  This table is a sign and a reminder for us that we are fed, by the Word of God, that we feed upon the Word of God who is our food, food for our souls, food for life.  But we have this food only through faith, only through the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, not in the bread or the juice, not in me as pastor or preacher, but in us: the Spirit feeds us as He is present in us, and He is present in us only by faith, the gift of the Spirit, not your work, not my work, not your reward, not my reward.  The material, the physical, points us to the spiritual; the trap is that we can lose sight of the spiritual as we become preoccupied with the material.

Greed leaves no room for grace.  I have to suppose Judas began well enough.  Then he began to see that he had a neat racket with Jesus, the potential for a big pay day.  All Judas had to do was say things and do stuff, and the food and the money and the women just came to him—it was wonderful!  The point is to feed the sheep, tend the flock, sacrificial living, servant leadership.  Mary was exhibiting this in an especially strong way, and it especially disturbed the one who lived to feed on the sheep, fleece the flock.  Yes, Jesus can be . . . lucrative.

I want to believe that even Judas began well enough.  Something happened along the way, though.  He lost sight of fulfilment because of cravings and desires here; what could be had, what could be done and enjoyed in this life became more attractive to him than what Jesus was offering.  We’re not immune to that.  What is Jesus offering, here, today?  A tiny taste of bread?  A teeny sip of grape juice?  A long-winded sermon?  Long, droning prayers?  Old, hard songs nobody sings outside of church?  Jesus has a funny way of offering life and blessing!  Judas thought so, too.  I suppose, to be honest, even Mary thought so, once in a while.  But that didn’t stop her, because, despite all that, even through all that, she saw Jesus, still saw him, heard him, knew he was near to her and she to him, and the love she knew was so much for her that she didn’t know what to do, just knew she needed to do something.  She sensed she didn’t have much time!

What?  What to do?  What could she do?  What difference could she make?  How could she bless the one who was such blessing for her?  Was it even possible?  She didn’t know.  She didn’t have any answers, just this . . . sense, intuition, urging.  She understood that it was God who blessed her with all the abundance she had.  She understood, suddenly, that it was God prompting her, God who opened her eyes and her heart to perceive that this costly act was the very purpose for which He had blessed her.  Like another Mary years before, Mary the sister of Lazarus says Yes!

Beloved, sacrificial acts come in many shapes and sizes.  The price tag isn’t on the thing; it’s in the heart.

Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.