By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven, Sabbatical Priest(This sermon is also available in video.)
“Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her. May I speak in the name of the Living God.” Amen.
We tend to think of women in the ancient world as powerless, downtrodden and invisible. It’s true that many kinds of power were not available to women because of their sex. But the woman we see in the gospel this morning is anything but powerless. Like Jesus, she is dramatic—reckless with what is most precious, pouring out something of great value which cannot be replaced. Why? She sees Jesus, loves him—gets him, gets who he is and what he’s about to do. Her heart breaks before her alabaster jar does. In a gesture that cannot be explained in rational terms she gives all that she has away, pouring out her love her treasure on Jesus. And he says: you’ll be remembered for this.
The disciples are offended. What lunacy! In what kind of world does THIS make sense! Why has the ointment been wasted? Why wasn’t it used for the poor? It’s criminal! What a waste! Women are so emotional. They’re so sensitive. They’re so over the top. But Jesus understands passion. Jesus understands wildly expansive, expensive acts of love. Jesus understands the meaning of pouring out something infinitely precious in an act of love. It is what he is about to do.
The disciples don’t understand him either. He’s as reckless as SHE is! For gosh sakes everyone is beginning to follow you! You’re reaching the crowds! Did you hear those ‘Hosannas!’ today? It means ‘O save us,’ Jesus! They are waiting for you to ACT! Call on them and they’ll rise up! Don’t throw it all away! But Jesus wasn’t about overturning Rome. There’d only be a new ‘Rome’ to take its place. Oppressors like the poor we will always have with us. Jesus was about overthrowing everything that gets in the way of God but the time of curing surface symptoms was over. He was going after sin and death itself.
Jesus approaches the walled city of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday the way he approaches the walled cities of our own hearts: Making a claim to be a king. Reminding the people of Zechariah’s prophesy: Lo, your king will come to you, lowly, riding on a donkey. It’s prophetic performance art and the crowd loves it—throwing their coats on this path and plucking palm branches to wave in the air. We’re all so glad he’s here! Victory is ours! Hosanna in the highest! We say it at every Eucharist: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
But the path doesn’t lead where we thought it would. He doesn’t do what we thought he’d do. What did he mean: this is my body? This is my blood over the bread and wine at supper? What did he mean letting Judas betray him like that, letting the guards take him, waiting for it to happen, really. This is NOT what we had in mind! What on earth is he doing? He doesn’t mean to break our enemies but to break our hearts, to break them open until we want to break open the alabaster jars that hold our treasure and pour it out in extravagant love in his name on the world God so loves. We didn’t sign on for this! What a reckless, crazy thing to do! No way! No way! We don’t want to die! We don’t want this God’s agenda! We don’t want transformation! We don’t want life at this price.
Crucify him! Crucify him! The light is hurting my eyes.
© 2009 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven
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