Something New Something New
Commentary
This is not the same old thing. This is something new. Isaiah tells us to forget the old standards of life and truth. Our God conquers, so no longer judge the old way. Paul in prison says pretty much the same thing. And in the first supper, which takes place in the home of Martha, with Mary, Jesus, and the newly resurrected Lazarus in attendance, we see the world turned upside down as well. Something new. Something new.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The Iliad by Homer, an epic poem written eight centuries before Jesus, is about a short incident in the famous Trojan War. The captains from the various Greek city states are as much in conflict with each other as they are at war with the Trojans. It was considered a scripture in the ancient world, a writing that describes the world as it is. It is a magnificent poem which I love, but it presents a world whose outlook I don’t share.
Recently I read Emily Wilson’s new translation, and I found her introduction to the poem fascinating. Let me quote it. This is the world of the ancients.
You already know the story. You will die. Everyone you love will also die. You will lose them forever. You will be sad and angry. You will weep. You will bargain. You will make demands. You will beg. You will pray. It will make no difference. Nothing you can do will bring them back. You know this. Your knowing changes nothing. This poem will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time. (The Iliad, by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson, W.W. Norton and Company, 2023, p. LIX)
In the world of the Iliad horses are weapons, not companion or work animals as we know them. War horses were frighteningly powerful creatures. Conquerors were judged by the majesty of their horses.
What’s this got to do with Isaiah? Today’s passage begins in that world. The Lord, Isaiah tells us, is the one “who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior.” But we will not see them in battle (any more than we will see battle take place in armageddon in Revelation — look it up. God says a word, gegenon, which means, it’s done, and it’s done.) No. This is the God “who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters….” (shades of the Red Sea and the charging armies of Pharaoh), and we see that “they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished like a wick.”
Despite the fact that war has been the experience of God’s people over the centuries, things are going to be different now.
“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.,” says the Lord. “I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
We feel like we live in a world where nothing we do matters. It’s all going to end badly. We see no way out. But Jesus the conqueror will enter Jerusalem the holy city in triumph riding not on a war horse, with prisoners and prizes in tow, but humbly, on a donkey. Isaiah may well have heard of the Iliad, but he has also heard the word of the Lord and seen the incarnate Lord from afar. Forget the former things. It’s not going to be the same.
It’s not.
Philippians 3:4b-14
Every four years when the Summer Olympics roll around, some commentators name the winners of the men’s and women’s 100-meter dash the fastest humans on earth. That’s balderdash (respectfully). The fastest humans are the men and women who win the marathon, twenty-six point two miles of strategy, endurance, and willpower. Throughout the race, one has every reason to give up, to rationalize slowing down, to accept doing good enough instead of agonizingly performing a once-in-a-lifetime beyond a personal best. When you see women and men burst into an all-out sprint with half a mile to go, you know you are seeing the fastest humans alive — who’ve kept their eyes, their hearts, their sinews, and their will on the prize.
In this letter to the Philippians, a largely pagan milieu, consisting of individuals who grew up learning the Iliad as one of their scriptures (see the introduction to Isaiah 43:16-21) and not the Hebrew scriptures of the law, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the stories of the Kings, Paul redefines his situation as one who is not ashamed, despite being imprisoned with his life on the line. He is not powerless and doomed like he appears in the eyes of the world. He is like a runner who has his eyes on the prize, and will not falter now that the finish line is in sight. That’s why he told them of Jesus, who did not count equality with God as something to be taken advantage of, but emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave (shame), obedient even unto a cross (horrifying shame), and is now elevated at the right hand of God. (See Philippians 2:5-11). It is at the name of Jesus that every knee will bow, not the emperor.
And that’s why they (and we) should keep their eyes on the prize, too.
Runners in the ancient Olympics kept their eyes on the prize, a pennant flying in the breeze above the finish line, and despite the agonized protests of their bodies, pushed themselves all the way to the finish. What is shame in the eyes of the Greeks and Romans is the glory of Jesus, which Paul intends to win not only for himself, but with and for the Philippians as well. Let others give themselves over to destruction, worshiping the god of their bellies.
And for this reason Paul counts everything in which he should take pride, his religious upbringing and heritage, as “loss,” which in the Common English Bible is translated as “sewer-trash.” (3:8) This is the vulgar word in Greek for what we sometimes refer to as the “s-word.” He uses this word to shock them. And I am sure the Philippians were shocked.
Eyes on the prize, folks, the prize of the something new!
John 12:1-8
We’re all familiar with the term “the last supper,” but in this passage we are present at “the first supper.” The night before his triumphant entry, Jesus shared a blessed meal with close friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus at their home in Bethany, two miles from Jerusalem.
Can you imagine? Jesus had just raised their brother Lazarus back from the good-and-for-certain-four-days dead. The apostles were there also, because a meal meant inviting everybody, including Judas. No doubt there was laughter, excited conversation, and enthusiastic eating.
There’s nothing surprising about this picture. After all, the gospels paint a picture in which nobody but Jesus seems aware that this is the last week of his earthly ministry and death lies at the end of this week. Why wouldn’t everybody be in a celebrative mood?
We know from the gospels that Mary and Martha provided hospitality when Jesus was away from Galilee. And now with their brother Lazarus back from the dead, we get a glimpse of what heaven looks like. It looks like life. Jesus, is the resurrection and the life. Friends, food, family.
And then something happened that changed everything.
Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of her perfume.
This is a miracle. In the Gospel of John miracles are called signs because, like road signs, they point in the direction of Jesus. Mary’s sign pointed the way to Jesus. Like the feeding of the multitudes, and the act of turning water into wine, Mary engaged in an act of abundance.
The fragrance of that powerful perfume, not watered down, but poured out like pure luxury, filled every corner of the house and inundated every individual in the room. The cost was enormous. A year’s wages. This is the kind of possession that one saves for a special occasion, and if one isn’t careful, it’s never used because nothing is special enough. The longer you wait, the higher the stakes.
When Mary broke open the jar, everybody there was blessed.
This action was prophetic. Mary understood Jesus had been talking about his death for some time. Remember, in Luke’s Gospel,she sat at the feet of Jesus, like his disciples, listening intently to every word. She heard the living word and knew hearing the word leads to action. While others were confused, she seems to have seen right to the heart of the matter.
So when Mary foreshadowed the moment when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, she also foreshadowed his death and burial. In effect, he got to smell the flowers at his funeral.
Some people keep toys in the original wrapping so they become valuable, but it’s an artificial valuable. Toys were meant to be played with. Some people keep the good china on a top shelf to save for special occasions, but there is never an occasion special enough. Toys that are played with get damaged. China that’s used gets chipped. But the love and joy that is strengthened is a blessing beyond measure.
What’s the alternative?
One of the greatest misers of all time, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, was Henrietta (Hetty) Howland Green (1835-1916). When she died, she had $31,400,000 in the bank, which in today’s currency is around two and a quarter billion dollars. ($2,279,884,119.27) Quoting from the second edition, we read: “Her will was found in a tin box with four pieces of soap. She was so mean that her son had to have his leg amputated because of the delays in finding a free medical clinic. She herself lived off cold porridge because she was too stingy to heat it.”
When Mary met her maker, that expensive jar of perfume wasn’t still sitting on her shelf, too precious to use. Her extravagant and abundant commitment to love should be mirrored in our own lives.
Isaiah 43:16-21
The Iliad by Homer, an epic poem written eight centuries before Jesus, is about a short incident in the famous Trojan War. The captains from the various Greek city states are as much in conflict with each other as they are at war with the Trojans. It was considered a scripture in the ancient world, a writing that describes the world as it is. It is a magnificent poem which I love, but it presents a world whose outlook I don’t share.
Recently I read Emily Wilson’s new translation, and I found her introduction to the poem fascinating. Let me quote it. This is the world of the ancients.
You already know the story. You will die. Everyone you love will also die. You will lose them forever. You will be sad and angry. You will weep. You will bargain. You will make demands. You will beg. You will pray. It will make no difference. Nothing you can do will bring them back. You know this. Your knowing changes nothing. This poem will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time. (The Iliad, by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson, W.W. Norton and Company, 2023, p. LIX)
In the world of the Iliad horses are weapons, not companion or work animals as we know them. War horses were frighteningly powerful creatures. Conquerors were judged by the majesty of their horses.
What’s this got to do with Isaiah? Today’s passage begins in that world. The Lord, Isaiah tells us, is the one “who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior.” But we will not see them in battle (any more than we will see battle take place in armageddon in Revelation — look it up. God says a word, gegenon, which means, it’s done, and it’s done.) No. This is the God “who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters….” (shades of the Red Sea and the charging armies of Pharaoh), and we see that “they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished like a wick.”
Despite the fact that war has been the experience of God’s people over the centuries, things are going to be different now.
“Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.,” says the Lord. “I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
We feel like we live in a world where nothing we do matters. It’s all going to end badly. We see no way out. But Jesus the conqueror will enter Jerusalem the holy city in triumph riding not on a war horse, with prisoners and prizes in tow, but humbly, on a donkey. Isaiah may well have heard of the Iliad, but he has also heard the word of the Lord and seen the incarnate Lord from afar. Forget the former things. It’s not going to be the same.
It’s not.
Philippians 3:4b-14
Every four years when the Summer Olympics roll around, some commentators name the winners of the men’s and women’s 100-meter dash the fastest humans on earth. That’s balderdash (respectfully). The fastest humans are the men and women who win the marathon, twenty-six point two miles of strategy, endurance, and willpower. Throughout the race, one has every reason to give up, to rationalize slowing down, to accept doing good enough instead of agonizingly performing a once-in-a-lifetime beyond a personal best. When you see women and men burst into an all-out sprint with half a mile to go, you know you are seeing the fastest humans alive — who’ve kept their eyes, their hearts, their sinews, and their will on the prize.
In this letter to the Philippians, a largely pagan milieu, consisting of individuals who grew up learning the Iliad as one of their scriptures (see the introduction to Isaiah 43:16-21) and not the Hebrew scriptures of the law, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the stories of the Kings, Paul redefines his situation as one who is not ashamed, despite being imprisoned with his life on the line. He is not powerless and doomed like he appears in the eyes of the world. He is like a runner who has his eyes on the prize, and will not falter now that the finish line is in sight. That’s why he told them of Jesus, who did not count equality with God as something to be taken advantage of, but emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave (shame), obedient even unto a cross (horrifying shame), and is now elevated at the right hand of God. (See Philippians 2:5-11). It is at the name of Jesus that every knee will bow, not the emperor.
And that’s why they (and we) should keep their eyes on the prize, too.
Runners in the ancient Olympics kept their eyes on the prize, a pennant flying in the breeze above the finish line, and despite the agonized protests of their bodies, pushed themselves all the way to the finish. What is shame in the eyes of the Greeks and Romans is the glory of Jesus, which Paul intends to win not only for himself, but with and for the Philippians as well. Let others give themselves over to destruction, worshiping the god of their bellies.
And for this reason Paul counts everything in which he should take pride, his religious upbringing and heritage, as “loss,” which in the Common English Bible is translated as “sewer-trash.” (3:8) This is the vulgar word in Greek for what we sometimes refer to as the “s-word.” He uses this word to shock them. And I am sure the Philippians were shocked.
Eyes on the prize, folks, the prize of the something new!
John 12:1-8
We’re all familiar with the term “the last supper,” but in this passage we are present at “the first supper.” The night before his triumphant entry, Jesus shared a blessed meal with close friends Martha, Mary, and Lazarus at their home in Bethany, two miles from Jerusalem.
Can you imagine? Jesus had just raised their brother Lazarus back from the good-and-for-certain-four-days dead. The apostles were there also, because a meal meant inviting everybody, including Judas. No doubt there was laughter, excited conversation, and enthusiastic eating.
There’s nothing surprising about this picture. After all, the gospels paint a picture in which nobody but Jesus seems aware that this is the last week of his earthly ministry and death lies at the end of this week. Why wouldn’t everybody be in a celebrative mood?
We know from the gospels that Mary and Martha provided hospitality when Jesus was away from Galilee. And now with their brother Lazarus back from the dead, we get a glimpse of what heaven looks like. It looks like life. Jesus, is the resurrection and the life. Friends, food, family.
And then something happened that changed everything.
Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of her perfume.
This is a miracle. In the Gospel of John miracles are called signs because, like road signs, they point in the direction of Jesus. Mary’s sign pointed the way to Jesus. Like the feeding of the multitudes, and the act of turning water into wine, Mary engaged in an act of abundance.
The fragrance of that powerful perfume, not watered down, but poured out like pure luxury, filled every corner of the house and inundated every individual in the room. The cost was enormous. A year’s wages. This is the kind of possession that one saves for a special occasion, and if one isn’t careful, it’s never used because nothing is special enough. The longer you wait, the higher the stakes.
When Mary broke open the jar, everybody there was blessed.
This action was prophetic. Mary understood Jesus had been talking about his death for some time. Remember, in Luke’s Gospel,she sat at the feet of Jesus, like his disciples, listening intently to every word. She heard the living word and knew hearing the word leads to action. While others were confused, she seems to have seen right to the heart of the matter.
So when Mary foreshadowed the moment when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, she also foreshadowed his death and burial. In effect, he got to smell the flowers at his funeral.
Some people keep toys in the original wrapping so they become valuable, but it’s an artificial valuable. Toys were meant to be played with. Some people keep the good china on a top shelf to save for special occasions, but there is never an occasion special enough. Toys that are played with get damaged. China that’s used gets chipped. But the love and joy that is strengthened is a blessing beyond measure.
What’s the alternative?
One of the greatest misers of all time, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, was Henrietta (Hetty) Howland Green (1835-1916). When she died, she had $31,400,000 in the bank, which in today’s currency is around two and a quarter billion dollars. ($2,279,884,119.27) Quoting from the second edition, we read: “Her will was found in a tin box with four pieces of soap. She was so mean that her son had to have his leg amputated because of the delays in finding a free medical clinic. She herself lived off cold porridge because she was too stingy to heat it.”
When Mary met her maker, that expensive jar of perfume wasn’t still sitting on her shelf, too precious to use. Her extravagant and abundant commitment to love should be mirrored in our own lives.
