Anointed (my farewell sermon to the beloved of Montecito Covenant Church) ~ Mark 14:3-9

³ While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head. ⁴ Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? ⁵ It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly. ⁶ “Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. ⁷ The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. ⁸ She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. ⁹ Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” ~ Mark 14:3-9

I love listening to NPR, particularly Friday mornings when they do a segment called StoryCorps. StoryCorps is simply two people talking together in a sound proof booth about something they shared – best friends from college, co-workers, mothers and daughters, sometimes strangers who shared an incredible moment. And in that brief time of hearing from ordinary, every-day, anonymous people, you will hear some of the most gracious, thankful and amazing things. Like the story of two sanitation workers Angelo Bruno and Eddie Nieves, who worked together for nearly ten years on the same garbage route in Manhattan’s West Village. After 31 years on the job, Angelo retired in 2018 and he and Eddie talked about his unexpected last day on the job. [If you don’t want to miss the beautiful New York accents, I encourage you to listen for yourself: https://www.npr.org/2018/08/31/643305306/encore-longtime-partners-find-treasure-among-trash]

Eddie: The day that people learned that you were going to retire, we went maybe a block or two blocks and six people came up to him saying, “You’re crazy. What am I going to do when you leave?”

Angelo: I’m a little bit of a marshmallow anyway, but I never thought my last day would be so emotional for me.

Eddie: He’s crying. They’re crying. I’m crying watching them cry. And I’ve been very lucky because he’s been the best partner I ever had. We used to try and take the same vacation and try to take the same day off. And I miss my partner.

Angelo: I feel the same way, Eddie. I’ll be honest with you — I miss it terribly, I’m like the little kid looking out the window now when I hear the truck. I think I could have done another 31 years.

Eddie and Angelo capture the spirit of our text today and the words I want to convey to you. They recognize the deep truth that Mother Theresa used to say, “We have forgotten that we belong to each other.”

According to our Gospel story, what does such anointed belonging look like?

          

           1.    Belonging is learning to eat with Simon the Leper

Our text begins with what becomes a throw away line for many commentators who either find it too uninteresting to talk about or too vague to credit much significance to. I’m speaking about Jesus eating in the house of Simon the Leper (vs. 3). 

What’s interesting, however, is the argument, made by most scholars, that Simon couldn’t actually have been a leper at the time because Jesus would have healed him. Lepers were banned from worship in the temple and full participation in the community of Israel and were often healed by Jesus – in Mark it’s one of his first miracles. What interests me, however, is one commentator’s remark that, “He had to have been healed. No one would have eaten with him otherwise.” That’s where I would beg to differ – Jesus would have. Jesus didn’t simply eat with healed people. He ate with people to heal them. 

And Jesus stills does so with us – communes with us – the healed and the not-so healed, the strong and the fragile, the with-its and with-outs. He eats with those who are branded by their impurities, their mistakes, and other’s hurtful labels. If it had been me rather than Simon the Leper the story would have started – “While he was in Santa Barbara, sitting at the table in the home of Jon the Divorced . . .”

By the way, I don’t mind being labeled that way, and while healing has taken place, even before I was healed, Jesus ate with me. And he sent disciples to eat with me. I was reminded of a poem I wrote for my small group leaders who sat at my table every week when I felt lost, afraid, and soul-sick. 

He could have sent a wind 

that soothed my aching soul

To remind me he would never leave me, 

never let me go.

He could have sent a dream 

of love allegorized

With seven fat cows munching

 on the grass of graces dined.

Or angel, yes, an angel

That shined incandescent light

To flood my soul with courage

To stand against the night

But his plan was very different

And with love he did intend

He performed a lasting miracle

He loved me through my friends.

Friends, Jesus ate with outcasts. He belonged to them. He was labeled a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners. Jesus’ healing was never a prerequisite for eating - it WAS the reason. Go and be like Jesus – eat and belong with Jon the Divorced, and Sandra the Gossip, Joe the Adulterer and Melissa the Alcoholic. It is not incidental or insignificant. It IS Gospel. It will be remembered. Eat with Simon the Leper.

          2.    Belonging is learning not to snort.

 So when we rejoin the dinner party it quickly devolves into a bit of chaos as an anonymous woman marches in with perfume that cost almost a day laborer’s yearly wage and proceeds to anoint Jesus by pouring it over his head. At this point, the text says, “Some were there” – disciples, friends of Jesus, religious people – who “rebuked her harshly.” Now I’m not one for talking too much about Greek words but this word is interesting. It means “to snort or roar” and is often used of the sound that horses make. Clearly, Mark tells us, they are withering with their criticism -  and express it with a snort.

 Now we know from Mark 6:37 that 200 denarii would have been enough to feed 5,000 people so their displeasure has a certain moral calculus, a certain fact that was undisputed. This money could have fed poor people. Despite this fact, however, Jesus responds as he often does with a clever scriptural rebuke to religious snorters who “harshly rebuke” others for good causes. It makes me thing of Oscar Wilde’s line, “A true friend stabs you in the front.” Jesus turns the tables on them by telling them to “Stop it” and quotes Deuteronomy 15:11: “¹¹ There will always be poor people in the land.”

What is Jesus doing? Is he saying, “Come on, guys, leave her alone. Poverty is a fact of life and you can always help them later but this is about me.” I’m not so sure. That doesn’t sound like Jesus. Another way of reading it occurs if we familiarize ourselves with all of Deuteronomy 15, which Jesus surely would have known. Earlier in the chapter it says, “⁴ However, there need be no poor people among you, for in the land the Lord your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you, ⁵ if only you fully obey the Lord your God and are careful to follow all these commands I am giving you today.”

So Jesus responds to their righteous snort with a gentle, ironic rebuke. If you were truly obedient, he suggests, if you truly loved and wanted them – there wouldn’t be poor among you. And then with a final, gentle twist of the knife, he says, “you can help them any time you want.”  (vs. 7)

Friends, as we confront difficult social problems it’s much easier to judge another person, to snort at their choices, to shame them for their lack. To learn not to snort, to focus on our own failures and our need to belong is to recognize that no human being can withstand close scrutiny, including you. The question Jesus asks is one of motive and intent, “What do YOU want? Do YOU want to help the poor? Are YOU obedient?” The longer I live the Christian life, the more I have experienced God’s grace, the more I recognize that my spiritual fight is not with others or issues but with myself. Before you start snorting at others, ask yourself: “Do I want to help others, the poor, the broken, my enemies?” When you plumb the depths of that question, listen to Jesus' gentle rebuke, trust me, you will stop snorting at others. You’ll stop worrying about correction and begin to focus on connection.

          3.    Belonging means doing something beautiful – anointing others while they are still alive.

Jesus responds to the disciples’ criticism of “waste” by describing the anonymous woman’s act of anointing as “beautiful” and a “good work.” Now on the one hand, it’s true that Jesus is referencing his death as imminent and “gospel” or good news. But I also think that more is going on and being praised by Jesus – and this is a bit of an out-of-the-box reading. It’s about her act of anointing. In my charismatic days we were obsessed with the topic of anointing. Amongst that crowd, anointing was understood as that power of the Spirit for doing or saying miraculous things. We loved to look for those people or hope that we were those people. We would say things like, “Wow that person is so anointed,” with just the right hint of piety and jealousy. But the irony of such talk is that it has us looking for God in the wrong place because it understands love and power as possessions rather than actions. In the Gospels, however, “anointed” is not something that you are. It is something that God empowers you to do for others while they are still alive. It’s speaking words of blessing, love, gratitude and compassion to the living. It’s purpose is to help others do what God has called them to do.

What Jesus is saying, in effect, might be paraphrased this way: “When I come to die, I will be more ready because of tonight, because I’m experiencing the reason this universe was made, the giving and receiving of love.  This is a moment to die for!” Her act of “breaking” and “pouring” will be used later in chapter 14 to describe what Jesus is doing in his death. It will help him pray in Gethsemane.

If the women had gone to the tomb of Jesus after his death and anointed his body with the expensive oil, no one would question what she had done.  It was perfectly acceptable to show love and respect to a dead body, and she would have been admired for showing such care for Jesus after his death.  To show this respect and affection, however, while Jesus was still alive proved scandalous.  

Nothing has changed in two thousand years.  We still save our best compliments and flowers for the funeral.  Jesus’ challenge here is for us to anoint each other while we are still alive:  Shower those you love with affection and flowers while they are alive, not at their funerals.” How many times have we heard it said at a funeral, “If only I had told him I loved him before he died” or “I never got a chance to say good-bye”.  

Who has God given you to anoint? It’s what Angelo the Sanitation worker experienced on the last day of his route. He was anointed. It’s what Carole Dobreski does every Sunday with those who come from the Samarkand. She anoints them. It’s what Mike Stevenson does in the jails and Pam Beebe offers college students. It’s what Ron Whited and others do at Alameda Park for friends who are homeless. Who is God calling you to anoint? Do you need to call your kids or your parents? Or reach out to a former friend and heal a broken relationship? Is God calling you to anoint our kids or youth? Is God calling you to anoint in the kitchen or on the playground. My prayer for you is that MCC will be an anointed place because everyone who walks on this campus, including you, is anointed by someone, is lavished with love, is bathed with care and compassion. 

The irony is that anointing others is always anointing Jesus in the end because we are his body and He is still alive. And he will remember.