What Really Matters

 

John 12: 1-8       

You can tell, if you pay attention, that Mary and Martha and Lazarus – three siblings – are close to Jesus. They are important people in his life. and that matters.

Even at that time, Jesus sort of belonged to everyone. Crowds followed him wherever he went, they all wanted to touch him, talk to him, receive something from him. Everybody wanted a piece of Jesus. It was exhausting for him, as it would be for any of us. He needed to be able to get away now and then, for the sake of his own well-being. And when he did, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were there for him.

Maybe you remember the other time he was at their house for dinner. This is told in Luke’s gospel. Martha bustles around preparing refreshment for him, Mary sits at his feet to listen to him. Even though I appreciate what Martha is doing, because someone has to get the food on, right? Still, I hear Jesus say to her, “Dear Martha, there is need of only one thing and Mary has chosen it.” The thing that really matters.

We realize how close they are in another story about the time Jesus gets word while he is on the road that his friend Lazarus is dying. He seems to be unwilling to accept that it might be true. He goes on with his travels, acting like there is no urgency regarding Lazarus. Like he was in denial.

But maybe he wasn’t in denial. Maybe his dear friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were about to play an important part in his work, something only these three siblings could be counted on to do.

When Jesus arrives at last, Lazarus has been dead in the grave for four days. So we should know he’s good and dead. When Martha heard he was coming, she went out and met him on the road – with accusations. If Jesus had just come when he had been called, Lazarus would still be alive. She is angry, understandably so. But because of their relationship, Martha is still willing to listen to Jesus. She still believes in him.

Jesus gathers with Mary and Martha, he weeps with them, grieves with them. We really see his distress. He has lost a good friend. Everyone is blaming him for it. and … he is about to do something that will draw quite a lot of attention – dangerous attention.

Jesus walks to the tomb and stands in front of it. He calls out, “Take the stone away.” Martha, the ever-practical sister, says, “You know there’s going to be an awful stench, Lord. He’s been dead four days.” But Jesus insists and so they take the stone away. Jesus calls Lazarus out, and out he comes.

And just as Jesus probably knew, this causes even more trouble for him. How dare he defeat death and raise up life! How dare he do what only God can do. Because of this, Jesus had to lie low for a bit. He left town for Ephraim. But when he came back, he returned to the same house, the home of his friends.

Lazarus, newly alive, is sitting at the table. Martha, as ever, is serving dinner. And Mary once again kneels before the Lord and pours out a full bottle of costly perfume to anoint his feet.

The text says it is made of nard, a flowering plant known for the medicinal properties of its oil. The oil has a therapeutic aroma that helps relax the body and mind. In ancient times it was regarded as one of the most precious oils. It was quite expensive, this nard oil; it was quite extravagant, pouring out a full pound of it on Jesus’ feet.

I remember the song from Jesus Christ Superstar that Mary sings as she pours out this oil: Try not to get worried, try not to turn onto problems that upset you. O, don’t you know everything’s alright, yes, everything’s fine. Much like Saint Julian of Norwich crooned, “All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner if things shall be well.”

Mary can see things that so many others cannot see. She can see farther out, in a way the others cannot. and she can see what is right in front of her, in a way the others cannot. Mary can see what really matters.

During our time of pandemic we saw a lot of things we never expected to see. We have seen a lot of death – as well as all kinds of loss. And we have said, many times, this experience has shown us what really matters. We grew to see the true value of relationships that we had previously taken for granted. We looked at the closeness of death all around us, and we suddenly realized what we value in life, and knew that life isn’t somewhere down the road. Life isn’t on a “to do” list. Life is what we are living right now.

I am sure this little family valued life in a whole new way after Jesus called Lazarus out of his tomb. They held one another close – and they held Jesus close when he returned to them. Mary opened up that big bottle of perfume and just lavished the whole thing on him, caressing his feet with her hands and her hair.

Martha probably didn’t even mind. The old Martha would have snorted in disgust, but the new Martha maybe just rolled her eyes a little bit and went on with her work. She knew what this meant to all of them.

But Judas didn’t know. He was not on the same page as the others. He starts ranting self-righteously: Am I the only one who cares about the poor? Now Martha probably did snort, because Judas deserved it.

The aroma of this perfume fills the room, a place that, only a short time ago, was filled with the smell of death. And for that reason, it is so, so precious. It smells like life. To everyone except Judas, who is more intent on his own agenda.

Jesus speaks up for Mary, saying to Judas, “Leave her alone. She needs this perfume for my burial.” In that one remark, bringing death back into the room. But it is alright. It is alright.

Jesus knows that death is near. He knows the Passover is coming, he knows there is a warrant for his arrest. He knows that he must go to Jerusalem and he knows just what he will be walking into there. He knows that the day of his sacrifice is coming but he also knows – and maybe Mary knows – that all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.

When death is near, we can see some things more clearly. We can, perhaps, see what really matters.

It is a gift to be able to see what is truly important and what is, in the larger scheme, insignificant. People sometimes say, on your deathbed you won’t be regretting that you didn’t spend more hours at work. Although, you might regret that you didn’t tell enough people, often enough, that you love them. You might regret that you didn’t say I’m sorry all the times you should have. You might regret not listening carefully enough, not laughing long enough.

You might regret that you didn’t lavish someone with expensive perfume, at least once, to tell them how grateful you are for them.

The best thing in life is knowing what really matters. Embrace it and nurture it.

And may God give it growth.

Photo: ChurchArt.com