April 6, 2025
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott
John 12: 1-8
Today’s Gospel might seem easy to interpret as we read it today, taken out of the context of the larger book of John. Mary takes the correct path, Judas doesn’t, be like Mary. But this reading is much more complex than it seems at first. It benefits us immensely when we consider it in the context of the larger narrative trajectory.
In the chapter before this one, John 11, Jesus has raised Lazarus from the dead. Before he does this act, both Mary and Martha have testified to the power of Jesus. And now, the world will know his power. It’s one thing to heal the sick, but quite another to raise the dead. Because people have come to comfort Mary and Martha, there will be witnesses. Jesus raises Lazarus and withdraws to a place called Ephraim. Chapter 11 ends in outside turmoil, with various people going to the religious leaders and the religious leaders demanding that anyone who knows where Jesus is must turn him in.
But in our reading for today, we don’t have a sense of this turmoil that is closing in on Jesus. On the contrary, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus give a dinner for Jesus. When you read “Martha served,” you might think about the other story that features Mary and Martha, when she complained about not getting help while Mary sits at the feet of Jesus—but that was the gospel of Luke. This text does give us insight into the idea of what it means to serve, but it widens it considerably.
Take a minute to imagine this table, before we get to the disruption of perfume and feet. Imagine having a meal with Lazarus, who had been in the grave for four days. This dinner doesn’t happen immediately after the resurrection of Lazarus, but I imagine it will be a topic of dinner conversation. It also mirrors the larger movement of the Gospel of John, which ends with Jesus in service, grilling fish and bread for the disciples’ breakfast.
Mary takes her costly perfume and washes the feet of Jesus and wipes his feet with her hair. This behavior would seem strange to us, in the 21st century, and it would have been unusual and shocking to her fellow dinner companions. Those of us who have participated in foot washing services for Maundy Thursday might see this act as one of attending to a delicate part of the body which has remained hidden, but that would be less likely the case with first century people. Their feet would be crusty with dirt and mud and all the nasty gunk that comes from not having modern sewage systems.
Most people would wash their feet before coming into a house, and wealthy people would have slaves to perform this basic act of hospitality. Mary takes a task of hospitality and elevates it by adding expensive perfume to the act and by wiping the feet of Jesus with her hair. And Jesus tells everyone to leave her alone. Jesus elevates her by saying that she understands what is about to happen to him. Mary bears silent, powerful witness to Jesus—Mary, not the men. In two weeks, we will see a similar dynamic on Easter morning, where the women are first witnesses to and believers in the resurrection of Christ.
We may be tempted to see a gender commentary that may not be there: Mary the female, understands, and Judas, the male, does not. But think of all the times that Jesus has instructed us to care for the poor. Judas has a point. Is this the best use of the money? We may have had similar experiences if we’ve visited other churches that are more ornate, where we worry about the people donating all of their retirement money to fund a pretty building.
Judas has a larger problem with money, and we might not see it because of the detail about his thievery. But his larger problem is his fear of not having enough. His scarcity consciousness mirrors the response of the disciples at the second Passover that’s in the Gospel of John, where Jesus feeds the five thousand men, plus the women and children who followed him. The disciples protest that they can’t possibly feed the crowds with five small barley loaves and two small fish—but not only do they feed everyone, they gather 12 baskets of leftovers.
Again and again, across Gospels, Jesus proclaims the inbreaking Kingdom of God, and he often does this in the language of abundance. It’s not just language: there are acts of abundance that demonstrate what Jesus means when he talks. In today’s Gospel passage, Mary shows that she has understood his message and his mission, and she has embodied it. She has taken her money and used it to glorify and worship Jesus. She doesn’t just utter empty words, like Judas. She doesn’t speak at all.
And here’s an even more radical possibility: perhaps through her action, she teaches Jesus too. In the next chapter of John, Jesus mirrors her action by washing the feet of his disciples. They protest. They are still thinking that the kingdom Jesus talks about is a kingdom that will be like earthly kingdoms. Imagine Herod or Pilate or Caesar washing feet: it’s impossible! On Maundy Thursday, we’ll hear the text about Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and the larger lesson he wants them to remember. Jesus comes to serve, and our mission is to serve.
Oh, that sentence is so simple. But we know that Christians through the ages have argued, much like Jesus and Judas argue, about the best way to serve. If bank accounts are slender, the arguments are more fierce. Should we buy something special to make worship more beautiful or should we increase our donation to Lutheran World Relief? Should we have the church dinner catered or should we cancel it and give the money to the food pantry?
Scholars and theologians have spent centuries arguing over what Jesus meant when he told us we’d always have the poor with us. Gospel commentators have written about Mary and Judas offering us two different paths to discipleship. But I think that Jesus is telling us to expand even further in terms of setting our minds and expectations away from scarcity and towards abundance. We can have beautiful worship AND feed the poor. We can follow the path of Jesus, resurrecting what was dead and then having a wonderful meal with friends who extend their hospitality beyond the meal and onto our feet as an exuberant measure of hospitality.
I thought about ending this sermon by passing out oil and fancy towels and having us wash each other’s feet, but instead, I’ll take this opportunity to say that for Maundy Thursday, in addition to having communion together, I plan to offer an optional healing element by anointing foreheads, not feet, and saying a prayer. I’ll stand here, and as you come away from communion, if you’d like your forehead anointed, you’ll come over. It won’t be expensive nard—my New Testament professor says that nard smells awful to modern noses. It will be unscented olive oil. In this way, we’ll follow in the footsteps of Mary, by adding an anointing to the meal we share. And if we think it’s meaningful, we can add this element to our weekly communion or offer it once a month.
As we come to the end of Lent—next Sunday is Palm Sunday!—let us examine our hearts to see where we are like Martha, who prepares a meal and where we are like Mary, who anoints with special oil and exceptional hospitality. If we discover places where we are like Judas, and if we take an honest inventory, we will—let us pray for our hard and judgmental hearts to expand beyond isolating, tight-fisted scarcity. Jesus comes to offer abundant life—let us look for ways to recognize that life and to help that abundance expand.
