Moving Forward in God's Love
Commentary
We are moving rapidly toward the end of Jesus’ earthly life. Lent is nearly over, and the sense of foreboding is growing. Jesus has repeatedly said that the only proper end of his life is to be arrested and killed by the authorities, despite Peter’s attempt to dissuade him of this idea.
Now the stage is being set. Mary has come to anoint Jesus’ feet, and is criticized for this ‘wasteful’ act by Judas. Judas is made to back off by Jesus, who says she bought the nard to anoint him for burial. We know the story: the next step is for Judas to betray Jesus. Then the Temple Guard will arrest Jesus and take him to the Sanhedrin for a kangaroo trial in the middle of the night. And so on, until Jesus is crucified.
It may be that many of our parishioners will skip Good Friday. That’s why Palm Sunday has in many denominations been replaced by Passion Sunday. It’s not just that so few companies will allow their employees Good Friday off to go to church. Many of our people say they cannot stand the gruesome details of the crucifixion. This in the day of “How to Get Away with Murder” and “Criminal Minds” as top-rated TV shows; not to mention the explicit violence allowed on cable channels, such as “Naked and Afraid.”
This Sunday is the one which gathers up the various threads of the plot against Jesus and says, without Jesus’ death on the cross there is no resurrection. We cannot take in the good news, cannot have the sense of gratitude of Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, unless we have first faced the sin in the world and in ourselves. We cannot have peace without coming through the hard times. And not just the victims of violence, but the perpetrators as well may look for forgiveness and restoration in the light of the Resurrection. This is why Jesus tells us to love our enemies, to bless those who curse us, and to turn the other cheek. Tomorrow, we may be the ones who need to be forgiven for our violence toward others.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The reading from Isaiah for today falls within what most modern scholars of the Bible call Second Isaiah, which begins with chapter 40 and ends at the close of Isaiah 55. This portion of the book was written by unnamed writers while the Jews were in Exile in Babylon, about 540 BCE.1 The theory is that these later works were included as though they were part of the writings of Isaiah the prophet when they were compiled after the return to Jerusalem because there was a school of prophets that held together during the Exile.
What we do know is that Jesus used ideas and images from these writings a great deal. He might be seen as a “student of Isaiah” were it not that early Christian Jews accepted Jesus as the Messiah, rather than another of the prophets.
The imagery of this passage is particularly apropos to Jesus’ teachings, as Jesus could easily talk about the lessons of the past while pointing his listeners toward the future, when God would fulfill the promise that God was doing a new thing. (See, for example, Matthew 9:1-7, where Jesus, talking about the new thing God is starting with his ministry, is quoted as saying, Neither is new wine put into old wineskins; otherwise, the skins burst, and the wine is spilled, and the skins are destroyed; but new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved.”
The passage begins with the LORD referring to the story of the Exodus from Egypt. He talks about the way the people were able to make their escape by means of a path across the sea, which the people could cross on foot, but the charioteers and cavalry of Egypt bogged down in the mud, and when the sea rolled back in, they were drowned. There is a sense of humor here: “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old” follows hard on the prophet’s reference to the founding story of the Hebrews, a story that was (and is) retold every Passover.
This is prologue, the prophet says. What is about to happen is ‘a new thing,’ the release of the people from Exile in Babylon, and not by a worshipper of Yahweh, but by a foreign king who has probably never heard of that god, and whose intention was not to defeat Babylon so the Jews might be set free. The release of the Jews is subsequent to Cyrus’ victory, and happens because Cyrus wanted a stable nation, and routinely released people who had been captured in every nation he captured.
So what is coming? God is reminding the people that what he has done before showed Godly power, and what is about to happen will renew that story. Jackals and ostriches are dangerous animals, living in arid places where few animals can survive. Jackals are predators, much feared by humans because they hunt in packs, and few animals can withstand their team tactics. Ostriches provide food, feathers and eggs which are used by desert peoples as canteens,2 but they have a kick that can split the head of a grown man, and hunting them must be done by thrown spears or arrows. But each bird provides enough meat to feed a family.
The captive Jews are reminded, in this way, of what is said in v. 21 — God formed them for Godself, and chose them, and chooses them even when it seems they have been forsaken, so that they can praise God again.
Some people misinterpret the last phrase of this psalm. They say that God “formed us for himself so that we might declare God’s praise.” In other words, that our sole purpose is to praise and glorify God. While it is a good thing to praise God, God does not need our praise, and says so in other parts of Isaiah. The last phrase actually refers to the people of Jerusalem praising God for the gift of water in the wilderness and rivers in the desert -- God’s provision for them both as they left Egypt and as they will soon be leaving Babylon.
An Episcopal priest friend of mine and I were talking one day about the small things God does for us. He had told a story in a sermon about telling a friend that God always provides a parking space for him when he has to go downtown — quite a feat, as our downtown is old, many streets are narrow, and parking spots can be hard to find. His friend said, “Wonderful! God gives you parking spaces so you don’t have to walk so far, but 60 million Jews died in the Holocaust.” He had felt rightly chastised, but I said, “God does the same for me, despite the fact that I’m disabled and therefore can park in handicapped spaces. One day, as I was thanking God for this little gift (though it doesn’t seem so little to me), I said, “Lord, why do you do this for me?” God answered, “Because it’s so easy, and it pleases you so much.” I believe that God does many things for us for those kind of reasons — because from God’s point of view, it’s easy, and our gratitude expressed strengthens our bond to God. Keeping evil world leaders from killing millions is a much harder task, and requires many people following God and working as one to keep that from happening. Who knows, if all the people God has provided with parking spaces got together, we might even prevent war.
Philippians 3:4b-14
Philippi was an urban center of a Roman colony, located on a major road linking Rome with Byzantium and the East by way of the Adriatic Sea. Paul had founded a church there (see Acts 16:6-40) that was led by women (thus ending the rumor that Paul didn’t like or work with women!). At the time he wrote this letter, he was in prison, but it isn’t clear whether this was his time in the Roman prison or if he was in Ephesus, and since the dating of his various writings depends on such detail, it isn’t certain when this letter was written, other than sometime between 52 and 62 C.E.
It is clear in the letter that there was a warm relationship between Paul and the people of Philippi. For one thing, Paul wants to assure them that even though he is in prison, his joy remains, and he feels certain that the outcome will be positive. Also, Epaphroditus (a member of the Philippian church) had dropped off a gift from the congregation for him as he was passing through and then stopped to see Paul again on his return. Paul asked his friend, as was customary in a time when there was no mail service, let alone e-mail, to carry a return letter of thanks as well as reassurances that he is not suffering.
Paul has another reason to write — he wants to assure himself that the church in Philippi will remain true to his teachings. As we well know from other writings by Paul, he was at the center of the circumcision controversy. Paul felt particularly called by God to preach to the gentiles, and to urge the largely (at that time) Jewish Christians that God intended to include the whole world in the plan of salvation. There were many who wanted gentiles joining the movement to be circumcised, as all Jewish men had to be. Paul contended that this was not necessary, and in fact would be a hindrance to converting gentiles. After all, how inviting would it be to say to grown men, “Oh, by the way, you have to have your foreskin removed from your penis in order to join us?” There were other groups in these early years of the church with even more different beliefs: those who said that since God could not die, Jesus did not die on the cross, he only seemed to, and therefore the resurrection was entirely a metaphor; those who said that they were free to act however they wished, since their sins were washed away on the cross; those who said we are all already raised to the new life of the Resurrection, which raised all sorts of theological questions about the meaning of the crucifixion and Resurrection. And then there were the Gnostics, who said we are saved by what we believe, not by what we do; nor by our belief that Christ’s suffering pays for our sins.
So it’s hard to know for certain which group or groups Paul is referring to as “dogs” or “evil doers” as any of these groups could be his target. But he is defending his standing in the church as a Jew, that is certain. He cites his own circumcision, his education as a Jew, his former life of defending the faith against the Christ-followers before he met Jesus on the road. Now, he says, none of that means a thing to him. He had a first-rate education as a Jew, which he has now given up. He had standing in the Jewish community before he became a follower of Jesus. He has been persecuted and prosecuted by both the Jewish hierarchy and the Romans. Now he is in prison for his faith. But it doesn’t mean a thing, he insists. All that past life is nothing but rubbish, all those cleanliness laws and purity rituals unnecessary, if he can count himself as new in Christ. He — and his followers — need not earn righteousness by their own actions — they can count on Christ to assert that they are righteous because they have made Him their choice.
But we need to notice the last thing Paul says in making his case. We gain the power of Jesus’ resurrection if we share his sufferings by becoming like him in his death. What does this mean?
During Lent, we have been aiming at understanding the death of Jesus. Who is this, who has died so that we might become one with God? How does that work, that one man dies, and I am forgiven? Is it a sacrifice that God has demanded of his only son? Or is it a sacrifice that involves God being nailed to a cross? Is it that we are grasped and pulled into heaven, or is it that we are invited to answer a call? Is it only that God forgives us, or are we to forgive God as well? (We may gasp at that idea, but don’t we all have some undying anger at God for what we have suffered and lost, or for some way in which we feel that God has failed us? Maybe we need to approach God with forgiving hearts as much as God approaches us with a forgiveness of all that separates us. Remember, the father of the Prodigal son had another son, one who felt ignored, and who also needed to enter into the party celebrating the reunification of the family.)
Even Paul is a bit vague about how all of this works: “if” he says, “somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead” he must “share Jesus’ sufferings by becoming like him in his death.” So we may be forgiven if we, too, have some questions about how all of this works. Just so we don’t doubt that Jesus had to die to be resurrected, and that we, too, will not be resurrected until we are able to surrender as Jesus surrendered in the garden on the Mount of Olives. Only in this way can I forget what I have lost or given up and press on toward the goal of the heavenly call of God.
In any case, Paul asserts “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal…” This is reflected in the understanding that God has offered us a new covenant, and everything we do that says “YES!” or “NO! to the prevenient grace of God -- i.e., to the grace that has gone before us, calling us to come to God, who loves us and wants the best for us. Our good deeds are a response to the work of the Resurrection, not the reason we are welcome in the Realm of God.
In this way, the passage from Isaiah links with Paul’s words. We are not to continue to live in the past, on old words and promises made to our forebearers. It is good to know that we continue on their path, and the various acts by which God has proven divine love is for us, not against us; but that is not the way to live. We cannot drive a car watching the rearview mirror. We move forward in God’s love (watching through the windshield rather than the mirror), by the power of the Spirit, who is light on our path so that we can trust God for what we cannot see.
The Rev. Peter Marshall, a Presbyterian minister, was the Chaplain of the Senate from 1947 to 1949. He had a dramatic experience of this grace as a young adult. His widow, Catherine Marshall, tells the story in the biography she wrote about him.3 He was walking home one night through a thick fog. Suddenly, a voice said “STOP!” Startled, he stopped, wondering who could have gotten so close in the dark. As he relaxed and started forward again, the voice again shouted, “STOP” and he stopped and felt around with his foot for his next step, only to find that he was on the brink of a cliff at the edge of a quarry. Another step and he would have fallen to his death.
Like Paul and Peter Marshall, we are walking in the dark. We trust God, but not completely — we still ask advice from others, try to think or act our way out of the various predicaments we face in life. It is no small thing to us to be in charge of our own lives. Yet we cannot see the future for certain. How, then, can we plan for what is not evident? Paul says here that we have no real choice — we must trust in Christ to lead us to God. To lead us each step of the way. But this is not our choice, it is God choosing us. Everything from that moment onward is not us earning our place in heaven, it is us surrendering to God’s lead.
John 12:1-8
This little story has strong parallels to Luke 7:36-50, and reading the two side-by-side may be instructive. One of the things we know is that there are stories in the Gospels that are told quite differently by each author, because the point being made is different with each author. In this case, the story as told by Luke is pointing at the lack of gratitude shown by the rich Pharisee contrasted with the abject way the ‘sinful woman’ shows hers. Also, it is one of the stories that Luke uses to show the bewilderment of the ‘good people’ about Jesus thinking he has the right to forgive sins, especially those sins which are generally considered to be unforgiveable.
In John’s case, the woman is identified as being known by Jesus: she is Lazarus’ and Martha’s sister Mary. Thus, John gives us a motive for Mary’s excess in anointing Jesus’ feet — he had resurrected her brother from the dead, thus saving not just their brother, but his protection of the sisters’ home and property, which in light of his death they could lose to a cousin, since women could not own property.
John, who is busy blaming the Jewish hierarchy for the death of Jesus, switches his aim to Judas Iscariot — an easy thing to do, since he betrayed Jesus to the Sanhedrin. But John adds another sinful act by Judas — the sin of theft from the money box for the group. Evidently, he’s setting Judas’ love of money as his motive for betraying his master, which makes Judas an idolater.
There is an interesting detail here: the cost of pure nard was extreme. The New Interpreter’s Study Bible says the 300 denarii value Judas put on that perfume would be “nearly a year’s wages for a laborer;” in other words, about $10,000 in today’s terms. Would a woman dependent on her brother for her living spend that amount on perfume, even for anointing the body of a beloved teacher? Yet in depicting Martha as preparing a meal for Jesus (and complaining that her sister Mary was not helping) it would seem they have no money for servants. So where did the money come from for Mary to buy a $10,000 bottle of nard? This, however, is a different sermon.
Judas is also dismissed as having no concern for the poor, which strongly goes against Jesus’ core teaching, and so unworthy of our compassion in John’s eyes. In stealing from the ‘common purse,’ John is doubly guilty, not just of stealing the group’s money, but in effect stealing from the poor who were so much at the heart of Jesus’ teaching. Furthermore, his disdain for her ministering to Jesus says worlds about Judas. Evidently, he, like the Pharisee in Luke’s telling of the story, has no gratitude for his place in Jesus’ circle. Perhaps he thinks he earned that place.
In any event, Jesus tells Judas to lay off. In saying that she bought it for the day of his burial, he is foreshadowing the inevitable end of the story. It may have been understood by Judas as Jesus allowing him to go ahead with his plan of betrayal. But Jesus has repeatedly made it plain that his death is unavoidable, even a part of God’s plan, or the result of the human propensity toward sin, demonstrated by the fact that the nation so often killed the prophets.4
So, this story is all about the impending death of Jesus, while the story Luke tells is all about the reasons for Jesus’ betrayal and death. Which is the strong connecting point with the reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians.
1 Before the Common Era, what used to be called Anno Domini (in the year of the Lord) before the non-Christian nations around the world began keeping the same calendar as the Christian nations do.
2 In Northern Africa, the people raid ostrich nests, and carefully tap a hole in the top of the egg to empty the contents for food. Then they clean out the shell and fill the egg with water, which gives them the ability to travel long distances across the desert. These canteens are hung in leather straps and slung over their shoulders.
3 A Man Called Peter, 1951, McGraw. Out of Print, but used copies available from Amazon.
4 Matthew 23:30-37; Luke 13:34; by inference also Luke 16:31.
Now the stage is being set. Mary has come to anoint Jesus’ feet, and is criticized for this ‘wasteful’ act by Judas. Judas is made to back off by Jesus, who says she bought the nard to anoint him for burial. We know the story: the next step is for Judas to betray Jesus. Then the Temple Guard will arrest Jesus and take him to the Sanhedrin for a kangaroo trial in the middle of the night. And so on, until Jesus is crucified.
It may be that many of our parishioners will skip Good Friday. That’s why Palm Sunday has in many denominations been replaced by Passion Sunday. It’s not just that so few companies will allow their employees Good Friday off to go to church. Many of our people say they cannot stand the gruesome details of the crucifixion. This in the day of “How to Get Away with Murder” and “Criminal Minds” as top-rated TV shows; not to mention the explicit violence allowed on cable channels, such as “Naked and Afraid.”
This Sunday is the one which gathers up the various threads of the plot against Jesus and says, without Jesus’ death on the cross there is no resurrection. We cannot take in the good news, cannot have the sense of gratitude of Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, unless we have first faced the sin in the world and in ourselves. We cannot have peace without coming through the hard times. And not just the victims of violence, but the perpetrators as well may look for forgiveness and restoration in the light of the Resurrection. This is why Jesus tells us to love our enemies, to bless those who curse us, and to turn the other cheek. Tomorrow, we may be the ones who need to be forgiven for our violence toward others.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The reading from Isaiah for today falls within what most modern scholars of the Bible call Second Isaiah, which begins with chapter 40 and ends at the close of Isaiah 55. This portion of the book was written by unnamed writers while the Jews were in Exile in Babylon, about 540 BCE.1 The theory is that these later works were included as though they were part of the writings of Isaiah the prophet when they were compiled after the return to Jerusalem because there was a school of prophets that held together during the Exile.
What we do know is that Jesus used ideas and images from these writings a great deal. He might be seen as a “student of Isaiah” were it not that early Christian Jews accepted Jesus as the Messiah, rather than another of the prophets.
The imagery of this passage is particularly apropos to Jesus’ teachings, as Jesus could easily talk about the lessons of the past while pointing his listeners toward the future, when God would fulfill the promise that God was doing a new thing. (See, for example, Matthew 9:1-7, where Jesus, talking about the new thing God is starting with his ministry, is quoted as saying, Neither is new wine put into old wineskins; otherwise, the skins burst, and the wine is spilled, and the skins are destroyed; but new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved.”
The passage begins with the LORD referring to the story of the Exodus from Egypt. He talks about the way the people were able to make their escape by means of a path across the sea, which the people could cross on foot, but the charioteers and cavalry of Egypt bogged down in the mud, and when the sea rolled back in, they were drowned. There is a sense of humor here: “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old” follows hard on the prophet’s reference to the founding story of the Hebrews, a story that was (and is) retold every Passover.
This is prologue, the prophet says. What is about to happen is ‘a new thing,’ the release of the people from Exile in Babylon, and not by a worshipper of Yahweh, but by a foreign king who has probably never heard of that god, and whose intention was not to defeat Babylon so the Jews might be set free. The release of the Jews is subsequent to Cyrus’ victory, and happens because Cyrus wanted a stable nation, and routinely released people who had been captured in every nation he captured.
So what is coming? God is reminding the people that what he has done before showed Godly power, and what is about to happen will renew that story. Jackals and ostriches are dangerous animals, living in arid places where few animals can survive. Jackals are predators, much feared by humans because they hunt in packs, and few animals can withstand their team tactics. Ostriches provide food, feathers and eggs which are used by desert peoples as canteens,2 but they have a kick that can split the head of a grown man, and hunting them must be done by thrown spears or arrows. But each bird provides enough meat to feed a family.
The captive Jews are reminded, in this way, of what is said in v. 21 — God formed them for Godself, and chose them, and chooses them even when it seems they have been forsaken, so that they can praise God again.
Some people misinterpret the last phrase of this psalm. They say that God “formed us for himself so that we might declare God’s praise.” In other words, that our sole purpose is to praise and glorify God. While it is a good thing to praise God, God does not need our praise, and says so in other parts of Isaiah. The last phrase actually refers to the people of Jerusalem praising God for the gift of water in the wilderness and rivers in the desert -- God’s provision for them both as they left Egypt and as they will soon be leaving Babylon.
An Episcopal priest friend of mine and I were talking one day about the small things God does for us. He had told a story in a sermon about telling a friend that God always provides a parking space for him when he has to go downtown — quite a feat, as our downtown is old, many streets are narrow, and parking spots can be hard to find. His friend said, “Wonderful! God gives you parking spaces so you don’t have to walk so far, but 60 million Jews died in the Holocaust.” He had felt rightly chastised, but I said, “God does the same for me, despite the fact that I’m disabled and therefore can park in handicapped spaces. One day, as I was thanking God for this little gift (though it doesn’t seem so little to me), I said, “Lord, why do you do this for me?” God answered, “Because it’s so easy, and it pleases you so much.” I believe that God does many things for us for those kind of reasons — because from God’s point of view, it’s easy, and our gratitude expressed strengthens our bond to God. Keeping evil world leaders from killing millions is a much harder task, and requires many people following God and working as one to keep that from happening. Who knows, if all the people God has provided with parking spaces got together, we might even prevent war.
Philippians 3:4b-14
Philippi was an urban center of a Roman colony, located on a major road linking Rome with Byzantium and the East by way of the Adriatic Sea. Paul had founded a church there (see Acts 16:6-40) that was led by women (thus ending the rumor that Paul didn’t like or work with women!). At the time he wrote this letter, he was in prison, but it isn’t clear whether this was his time in the Roman prison or if he was in Ephesus, and since the dating of his various writings depends on such detail, it isn’t certain when this letter was written, other than sometime between 52 and 62 C.E.
It is clear in the letter that there was a warm relationship between Paul and the people of Philippi. For one thing, Paul wants to assure them that even though he is in prison, his joy remains, and he feels certain that the outcome will be positive. Also, Epaphroditus (a member of the Philippian church) had dropped off a gift from the congregation for him as he was passing through and then stopped to see Paul again on his return. Paul asked his friend, as was customary in a time when there was no mail service, let alone e-mail, to carry a return letter of thanks as well as reassurances that he is not suffering.
Paul has another reason to write — he wants to assure himself that the church in Philippi will remain true to his teachings. As we well know from other writings by Paul, he was at the center of the circumcision controversy. Paul felt particularly called by God to preach to the gentiles, and to urge the largely (at that time) Jewish Christians that God intended to include the whole world in the plan of salvation. There were many who wanted gentiles joining the movement to be circumcised, as all Jewish men had to be. Paul contended that this was not necessary, and in fact would be a hindrance to converting gentiles. After all, how inviting would it be to say to grown men, “Oh, by the way, you have to have your foreskin removed from your penis in order to join us?” There were other groups in these early years of the church with even more different beliefs: those who said that since God could not die, Jesus did not die on the cross, he only seemed to, and therefore the resurrection was entirely a metaphor; those who said that they were free to act however they wished, since their sins were washed away on the cross; those who said we are all already raised to the new life of the Resurrection, which raised all sorts of theological questions about the meaning of the crucifixion and Resurrection. And then there were the Gnostics, who said we are saved by what we believe, not by what we do; nor by our belief that Christ’s suffering pays for our sins.
So it’s hard to know for certain which group or groups Paul is referring to as “dogs” or “evil doers” as any of these groups could be his target. But he is defending his standing in the church as a Jew, that is certain. He cites his own circumcision, his education as a Jew, his former life of defending the faith against the Christ-followers before he met Jesus on the road. Now, he says, none of that means a thing to him. He had a first-rate education as a Jew, which he has now given up. He had standing in the Jewish community before he became a follower of Jesus. He has been persecuted and prosecuted by both the Jewish hierarchy and the Romans. Now he is in prison for his faith. But it doesn’t mean a thing, he insists. All that past life is nothing but rubbish, all those cleanliness laws and purity rituals unnecessary, if he can count himself as new in Christ. He — and his followers — need not earn righteousness by their own actions — they can count on Christ to assert that they are righteous because they have made Him their choice.
But we need to notice the last thing Paul says in making his case. We gain the power of Jesus’ resurrection if we share his sufferings by becoming like him in his death. What does this mean?
During Lent, we have been aiming at understanding the death of Jesus. Who is this, who has died so that we might become one with God? How does that work, that one man dies, and I am forgiven? Is it a sacrifice that God has demanded of his only son? Or is it a sacrifice that involves God being nailed to a cross? Is it that we are grasped and pulled into heaven, or is it that we are invited to answer a call? Is it only that God forgives us, or are we to forgive God as well? (We may gasp at that idea, but don’t we all have some undying anger at God for what we have suffered and lost, or for some way in which we feel that God has failed us? Maybe we need to approach God with forgiving hearts as much as God approaches us with a forgiveness of all that separates us. Remember, the father of the Prodigal son had another son, one who felt ignored, and who also needed to enter into the party celebrating the reunification of the family.)
Even Paul is a bit vague about how all of this works: “if” he says, “somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead” he must “share Jesus’ sufferings by becoming like him in his death.” So we may be forgiven if we, too, have some questions about how all of this works. Just so we don’t doubt that Jesus had to die to be resurrected, and that we, too, will not be resurrected until we are able to surrender as Jesus surrendered in the garden on the Mount of Olives. Only in this way can I forget what I have lost or given up and press on toward the goal of the heavenly call of God.
In any case, Paul asserts “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal…” This is reflected in the understanding that God has offered us a new covenant, and everything we do that says “YES!” or “NO! to the prevenient grace of God -- i.e., to the grace that has gone before us, calling us to come to God, who loves us and wants the best for us. Our good deeds are a response to the work of the Resurrection, not the reason we are welcome in the Realm of God.
In this way, the passage from Isaiah links with Paul’s words. We are not to continue to live in the past, on old words and promises made to our forebearers. It is good to know that we continue on their path, and the various acts by which God has proven divine love is for us, not against us; but that is not the way to live. We cannot drive a car watching the rearview mirror. We move forward in God’s love (watching through the windshield rather than the mirror), by the power of the Spirit, who is light on our path so that we can trust God for what we cannot see.
The Rev. Peter Marshall, a Presbyterian minister, was the Chaplain of the Senate from 1947 to 1949. He had a dramatic experience of this grace as a young adult. His widow, Catherine Marshall, tells the story in the biography she wrote about him.3 He was walking home one night through a thick fog. Suddenly, a voice said “STOP!” Startled, he stopped, wondering who could have gotten so close in the dark. As he relaxed and started forward again, the voice again shouted, “STOP” and he stopped and felt around with his foot for his next step, only to find that he was on the brink of a cliff at the edge of a quarry. Another step and he would have fallen to his death.
Like Paul and Peter Marshall, we are walking in the dark. We trust God, but not completely — we still ask advice from others, try to think or act our way out of the various predicaments we face in life. It is no small thing to us to be in charge of our own lives. Yet we cannot see the future for certain. How, then, can we plan for what is not evident? Paul says here that we have no real choice — we must trust in Christ to lead us to God. To lead us each step of the way. But this is not our choice, it is God choosing us. Everything from that moment onward is not us earning our place in heaven, it is us surrendering to God’s lead.
John 12:1-8
This little story has strong parallels to Luke 7:36-50, and reading the two side-by-side may be instructive. One of the things we know is that there are stories in the Gospels that are told quite differently by each author, because the point being made is different with each author. In this case, the story as told by Luke is pointing at the lack of gratitude shown by the rich Pharisee contrasted with the abject way the ‘sinful woman’ shows hers. Also, it is one of the stories that Luke uses to show the bewilderment of the ‘good people’ about Jesus thinking he has the right to forgive sins, especially those sins which are generally considered to be unforgiveable.
In John’s case, the woman is identified as being known by Jesus: she is Lazarus’ and Martha’s sister Mary. Thus, John gives us a motive for Mary’s excess in anointing Jesus’ feet — he had resurrected her brother from the dead, thus saving not just their brother, but his protection of the sisters’ home and property, which in light of his death they could lose to a cousin, since women could not own property.
John, who is busy blaming the Jewish hierarchy for the death of Jesus, switches his aim to Judas Iscariot — an easy thing to do, since he betrayed Jesus to the Sanhedrin. But John adds another sinful act by Judas — the sin of theft from the money box for the group. Evidently, he’s setting Judas’ love of money as his motive for betraying his master, which makes Judas an idolater.
There is an interesting detail here: the cost of pure nard was extreme. The New Interpreter’s Study Bible says the 300 denarii value Judas put on that perfume would be “nearly a year’s wages for a laborer;” in other words, about $10,000 in today’s terms. Would a woman dependent on her brother for her living spend that amount on perfume, even for anointing the body of a beloved teacher? Yet in depicting Martha as preparing a meal for Jesus (and complaining that her sister Mary was not helping) it would seem they have no money for servants. So where did the money come from for Mary to buy a $10,000 bottle of nard? This, however, is a different sermon.
Judas is also dismissed as having no concern for the poor, which strongly goes against Jesus’ core teaching, and so unworthy of our compassion in John’s eyes. In stealing from the ‘common purse,’ John is doubly guilty, not just of stealing the group’s money, but in effect stealing from the poor who were so much at the heart of Jesus’ teaching. Furthermore, his disdain for her ministering to Jesus says worlds about Judas. Evidently, he, like the Pharisee in Luke’s telling of the story, has no gratitude for his place in Jesus’ circle. Perhaps he thinks he earned that place.
In any event, Jesus tells Judas to lay off. In saying that she bought it for the day of his burial, he is foreshadowing the inevitable end of the story. It may have been understood by Judas as Jesus allowing him to go ahead with his plan of betrayal. But Jesus has repeatedly made it plain that his death is unavoidable, even a part of God’s plan, or the result of the human propensity toward sin, demonstrated by the fact that the nation so often killed the prophets.4
So, this story is all about the impending death of Jesus, while the story Luke tells is all about the reasons for Jesus’ betrayal and death. Which is the strong connecting point with the reading from Paul’s letter to the Philippians.
1 Before the Common Era, what used to be called Anno Domini (in the year of the Lord) before the non-Christian nations around the world began keeping the same calendar as the Christian nations do.
2 In Northern Africa, the people raid ostrich nests, and carefully tap a hole in the top of the egg to empty the contents for food. Then they clean out the shell and fill the egg with water, which gives them the ability to travel long distances across the desert. These canteens are hung in leather straps and slung over their shoulders.
3 A Man Called Peter, 1951, McGraw. Out of Print, but used copies available from Amazon.
4 Matthew 23:30-37; Luke 13:34; by inference also Luke 16:31.
