Monthly Archives: April 2014

Without a Doubt – Sermon on John 20:19-31

It had been a crazy day. It started early in the morning, with all that confusion at the tomb, all that running back and forth. Now it was evening, and the disciples were huddled together again, just as they had been over the Sabbath. Only now, the room was filled with fear and confusion, instead of sadness and despair. Instead of asking “What shall we do now?” the disciples were asking, “Can it be true?” Somewhere in all the chaos, Hope tried to work its way into their minds, but most of the disciples were giving in to Fear. That’s why they had locked the door. They were afraid.

Some might have been afraid of Jesus himself. After all, if he was alive, as those undependable, weepy women kept insisting, he probably would have a thing or two to say about the way they had all abandoned him. Guilt and shame at their failure might have given some of the disciples a reason to fear rebuke from the teacher they had promised to follow, no matter what.

Some were afraid of the religious leaders, certainly. If Jesus’ body was gone, the high priest’s henchmen would be scrambling to find it. The first place they’d look would be here, among the Lord’s closest friends and followers. A few remembered Jesus telling them that he would be killed, but that he would rise on the third day. Didn’t it make sense that the religious leaders would figure one of them had taken the body, to make it look like Jesus had arisen? But, if that were true, who would have done such a thing? Probably someone who was not in the room when they’d locked the doors. A quick glance around the room found the disciples in their usual little groups … but … where was Thomas? Hmm…

Suddenly, all the whispers and the talking stopped. Someone gasped. A familiar voice was coming from the center of the room. Hear the Word of the Lord, from the 20th chapter of John’s gospel, beginning in verse 19, right where we left off last week…

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

I think Thomas gets a bum rap. He’s been nicknamed “Doubting Thomas” because he demanded to see the evidence with his own eyes, before he would believe that Jesus was really alive. We could joke about Thomas being from Missouri, the Show Me State, where seeing is believing and the proof is in the pudding. But in reality, Thomas is no more skeptical than the other disciples, whose hopes had been dashed by the crucifixion. He just happened to be late for dinner on that first night.

Earlier that morning, Mary Magdalene had repeatedly complained, “They’ve taken him away, and I don’t know where they’ve laid him.” She thought that Jesus was still dead, right up to the moment he said her name in the garden. And when Peter and the other disciple ran to the tomb, to see for themselves, they walked away scratching their heads. None of the eleven really believed that Jesus was alive, as far as scripture tells us. All of them were filled with doubt, even after Mary had come back to say, “I have seen the Lord.” So Jesus has to put in a personal appearance, to convince them all that he really is alive.

If you compare the two appearances in today’s passage, they are nearly the same. The door is locked. Jesus suddenly stands in the middle of the room and says, “Peace be with you.” Then he shows his hands and side to prove he is the same Jesus they saw die on the cross, but who now is very much alive. After the disciples respond to this good news, Jesus says a few more words. The stories are almost identical.

But not quite.

For one thing, at the first appearance, Jesus commissions his disciples to go out and share the good news, and he breathes on them as he says, “receive the Holy Spirit.” In Matthew’s gospel, the Great Commission happens moments before Jesus ascends into heaven, and in Luke’s version of the story, the disciples don’t receive the Holy Spirit until Pentecost, but John never was much for chronology. His story is less concerned with making the dates match up, and more concerned with getting the word out: Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again. Believe the Good News! And keep in mind that for John, believing is always a verb, never the noun “belief.” Believing is what John is very eager for us to do. And once we believe, it is a short leap to receive the Holy Spirit and be sent out to help others see, so they, too, may believe.

Jesus tells his disciples, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained” (20:23). John isn’t talking about sin as moral failure so much as refusing to believe in Jesus.

Theologian Elisabeth Johnson writes, “Jesus is not giving his disciples some special power to decide whose sins will be forgiven and whose will not. Rather, he is further specifying what it means to be sent, to make known the love of God that Jesus himself has made known. As people come to know and abide in Jesus, they will be “released” (aphiemi) from their sins. If, however, those sent by Jesus fail to bear witness, people will remain stuck in their unbelief; their sins will be “retained” or “held onto” (kratéo). The stakes of this mission are very high indeed.”

And because the stakes are high, Jesus has to make sure each disciple is convinced of the truth. All the disciples must see for themselves that Jesus has been raised from death to new life.

Seeing is believing throughout John’s gospel. “Come and see” weaves its way throughout the story John presents. We find it in the first chapter, when Jesus meets the first disciples who have been following John the Baptist, and they ask where he is staying. “Come and see,” he says (Jn 1:39). A few verses later, when Philip invites Nathaniel to meet Jesus, Nate asks, “Can any thing good come out of Nazareth?” and Philip says, “Come and see” (1:46). Then the Samaritan woman at the well runs to tell her neighbors, “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” (4:29) and when Jesus arrives four days too late in Bethany, he asks Mary and Martha where they’ve buried Lazarus. “Come and see,” they tell him (11:34). In fact, we find some form of the word “see” more than twenty times throughout John’s gospel, and “seeing” means everything from physical sight to full understanding[1].

But Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus appeared to his friends. Thomas did not see Jesus. The disciples tell him later, just as Mary told them last week, “We have seen the Lord.” Thomas is skeptical, just as they had been, only moments before Jesus showed up.

So, a week later, Jesus goes through the whole appearing routine again, only this time, it’s for Thomas’ benefit. While the other disciples simply rejoiced when they recognized the risen Savior, Thomas offers a confession that is profound and personal: “MY Lord and MY God,” he cries out. Not just “the” Lord. Not just “Son of the Living God,” but MY Lord and MY God. In an instant, he moves from skepticism to trust. Thomas “sees.” All the disciples see.

Because Jesus keeps showing up. He repeatedly appears to those who need some visual proof he has risen. He doesn’t judge or criticize, he just keeps showing up until they get it. He offers shalom – not the familiar “fear not,” even though they are obviously afraid – but “peace be with you” three times, twice in the first visit and then again, just for Tom.

Remember last week’s question, “What keeps us from recognizing Jesus, when he’s standing right in front of us?” Is it fear? What are we afraid of? Are we afraid of Jesus himself, convinced that he would judge us for our unbelief if he stood in our midst? Are we afraid of the people outside the door, the ones who threaten our sense of safety whenever we try to talk about our faith? Those disciples who huddled in that locked room were afraid for their very lives. Unlocking the door and going out into the world to offer forgiveness of sins would have put them at great risk. Are we willing to take such a risk as that, to put our lives on the line for the sake of the Gospel?

On Thursday, Dr. Jerry Umanos was one of three people who were shot as they walked out of the CURE International Hospital in Kabul. Jerry was a pediatrician who worked six months of every year at the Lawndale Christian Health Center in Chicago’s inner city, so he could spend the other six months of each year treating children and training local doctors in Afghanistan.

In a televised statement, Dr. Umanos’ wife said, “Jerry always wanted to serve underserved populations. Afghanistan was just one of them. He always had a desire to be the hands and feet of Christ. He was always a light for Christ, and he had a love and commitment that he expressed for the Afghan people because of that love for Christ.” Jerry Umanos put his own life on the line for the sake of the gospel. You probably know stories of others who have done the same thing, risking everything in order to share the good news of Jesus Christ’s resurrection. These are people who dared to unlock the door and step out when they heard Jesus say to them, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We need to unlock the door and go out into the scary world with the peace of Christ, so that all may believe and have eternal life.

Not only do we need to see the resurrected Christ, we need to realize that the world is looking to us to see him. How are we showing resurrection to a desperate world? How are we offering shalom instead of fear? Jesus sends us out, just as surely as he sent those cowering disciples. And we don’t have to go to Afghanistan to find people who need to see Jesus. Some of them are right here in front of us, just as surely as Jesus stood right in front of Mary and Thomas, urging them to believe.

This week, a young man came here looking for help that I could not give him. He needed a place to live. The most I could offer him was a night in the New Ulm Motel, but he needed more than that. The best the county could offer him was a trip to the homeless shelter up in St. Cloud. And his situation is not unique. The school counselor at Jefferson Elementary School will tell you that there are currently about nine students who are officially classified as homeless. There are many more who do not meet the official criteria, but who are functionally without a permanent home.

How are we helping them to see the resurrected Christ? How are we helping them to know the love of Jesus, to believe in him, so that they might have eternal life?

Can we let go of our own fear long enough to unlock the doors that keep us from reaching out in Jesus’ name? Can we dispense with our own doubt long enough to see where Christ is sending us to share good news?

The final verses of today’s passage give the purpose statement for John’s entire Gospel:

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”

The disciples who had lived and walked with Jesus, the ones who had watched him die and be buried, they all needed some visible sign that he was really alive again. Jesus gave it to them, as often as they needed to see it, so that they might believe. But we should not feel left out, just because we weren’t in that room on Easter night.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” Jesus says to Thomas. That’s us. We are the ones for whom John wrote his book, so that we may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, we may have life in his name.

As we live that life in the name of Jesus, let us show others what we have come to see, that Jesus died for our sins, and he rose again to give us eternal life. Let us join Mary and the disciples in boldly saying, “We have seen the Lord,” as we proclaim “The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed!” Let us join with Thomas in naming Jesus as our Lord and our God, so that through our witness all may see him, all may know him, all may believe and have life in his name. Alleluia! Amen.

[1] Richard Dietrich, Feasting on the Word,Year A Vol. 2,  397.

Racing Toward the Impossible – Easter Sermon on John 20:1-18

It was good to just rest. After all the events of Friday, it was good to find some quiet time to process everything. The sound of those nails being pounded into the cross, the darkness, and the smell of death were overwhelming. So it was good to observe Sabbath, to have some time to think, the second day after Jesus was crucified.

Oh, I know you would rather talk about the third day. That’s the one everybody likes to celebrate. But that second day, that quiet Sabbath, was important, too. All of the disciples needed that day, to come to terms with the way things had played out. It wasn’t what anyone had expected, and getting over the shock of realizing Jesus was really dead would take some time.

What would happen now, without a leader? Peter could have taken over, but he was just as devastated as everyone else. More so, maybe. And the disciple Jesus loved had been sticking close to Peter’s side, as everyone huddled in that room together. There had been talk all day long. Hushed whispers, loud wailings, each one grieving, everyone trying to figure out what to do next. While some kept watch, in case the religious leaders came looking for more disciples to arrest, others slept, or tried to eat. A few talked through the night, trying to decide some course of action, but in the end, no one had a good idea, and almost everyone had dozed off by the time morning came. No one even noticed Mary slipping out while it was still dark outside.

John 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

There was a lot of running going on that morning. First Mary Magdalene ran back to the disciples as soon as she realized the stone had been removed from the tomb. Though Mary is the only woman mentioned in John’s version of this story, we get the sense that there were other women with her when she said, “We don’t know where they have put Jesus.” So they must have been running with her, as she raced back to tell the others what she had found.

We don’t know if Mary even looked inside the tomb before jumping to the conclusion that someone had taken the body away. It’s hard to tell why she assumed the body has been stolen. Maybe she thought the tomb had only been ‘on loan’ as a temporary burial place, just to get through the Sabbath, and its actual owner had removed the body. Maybe she thought the religious leaders had moved the body before this tomb became an unwelcome shrine. It’s hard to tell who she means when she says “they,” but it’s obviously not “one of us.” And it’s clear that Mary thinks Jesus is still dead.

But Mary’s words crackle like a starting pistol, sending Peter and the other disciple racing toward the garden to see for themselves. And this is where the scene becomes almost comical – you can practically hear an old piano playing silent-movie-chase-scene music, as one disciple gets there first, but doesn’t go in, and the other runs right past him to duck into the … empty tomb! Well, how about that! Mary was right, after all. There’s no body here. Just some grave clothes lying around, and what’s this? The head cloth has been carefully rolled up and placed away from the other wrappings. That’s strange. Peter and the other disciple leave, scratching their heads, believing that the body is certainly gone, but not quite clear yet on the concept of resurrection.

After all, when Lazarus was raised from the dead, someone else had to unwrap him after he walked out of his tomb. So, who unwrapped Jesus’ body for him, and why? Peter and his friend simply cannot comprehend that the impossible has happened here. So, they leave.

Before we condemn them for their lack of faith, or even for short memories that can’t remember Jesus’ own words about being the resurrection and the life, we might want to stop and consider how we, too, walk away from the things we can’t explain. When our view of God is challenged, when he doesn’t work in our lives the way we think he ought to work, how often do we give up and walk away, muttering to ourselves or anyone else who will listen? We aren’t much different from Peter and that other disciple.

But Mary comes back into the story, to remind us that there is more than one way to miss recognizing the miracle of resurrection. She must have run right back to the tomb behind those racing disciples, because here she is again, weeping as they walk away. As she bends over to peer into the empty tomb, just to be sure Jesus isn’t hiding under that pile of linen, she discovers that it is no longer empty. It was empty just a moment ago, but now there are two – not one, but two – angels, sitting there calmly, asking a simple question: “Woman, why are you weeping?”

This might seem an odd question, since Mary is standing in front of a new grave. It’s a place where people normally weep. But they know something she hasn’t quite accepted yet. Mary is still stuck in the “He’s dead” reality of her own limited understanding. She hasn’t grasped the impossible fact that Jesus is alive. She can only answer, “They’ve taken him away, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.”

As she turns around, she sees a man standing there, who asks her the same question, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”

Her answer is another repetition of the theme, “I don’t know where they’ve taken him.” She’s stuck in this groove of grief, this firm belief that Jesus is dead, and she says the same thing she’s been saying all along, first to the disciples, then to the angels, and now to this man she doesn’t recognize, so she figures he must be the caretaker of this garden.

Aren’t we sometimes like Mary, too? When God doesn’t fit neatly into the box of our belief system, we might just walk away, as those racing disciples did, or we might act like Mary: senselessly, stubbornly repeating our view of truth, even when evidence to the contrary stands right in front of us.

Then, Jesus says her name. “Mary,” is all it takes for this sheep to recognize her shepherd’s voice. Jesus calls each of us by name, too, urging us to recognize him as our risen Lord. What keeps us from seeing him, when he’s standing right in front of us? What prevents us from reaching out to him, as Mary apparently did, naming him as our beloved teacher and Lord?

Theologian Karl Barth says we come to worship to answer this one, simple question: “Is it true?” Is it true that God exists? Is it true that he created a perfect world, and that humans were part of that creation? Is it true that he wanted us to love him the same way he loves us, freely, and of our own choice, so he made it possible for us to choose not to love him? Is it true that we broke his heart and the perfect world he created by choosing the wrong thing, and he’s been working to heal our brokenness ever since? Is it true that he loves us so much he gave his only Son to die, so that we could be reconciled to him? Is it true that this same Son not only died, but rose again, to give us eternal life?  Is it true?

There was a time in my life when I was pretty skeptical – maybe even downright cynical – about all this hocus-pocus we call faith. I had read Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces, and I thought I had it figured out. I was pretty smug about my openness to the possibility of a variety of mythological explanations for the things we cannot explain.

Then my world came crashing down around my ears and I found myself wondering: if there was a God, why didn’t he care about me anymore? I call that time in my life “the bottom of the well.” As I slowly climbed out of that well, I rebuilt my understanding of who God is, and I began to realize that he truly did love me. But I couldn’t quite get my head around that. I couldn’t explain it. I knew I wasn’t lovable. And then, one day as I read my Bible, without really seeing the words on the page, I realized I was like that other disciple, the one who entered the tomb after Peter, looked around, and believed. But we don’t know what he believed. The rest of that sentence says that the disciples still didn’t “understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” And I realized I was a lot like Mary, repeating over and over my version of reality, trying to make the evidence right in front of me fit into a box that was too small. I remember saying out loud, “Lord, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” And it came to me, clear as a bell, “That’s okay. Just trust.” That’s when I was changed, like Mary, into someone who could suddenly recognize Jesus.

That’s what I invite you to do today. No matter what your questions are, no matter what keeps you stuck in doubt or skepticism, no matter what makes you walk away scratching your head. Trust Jesus to be who he said he was, to do what he promised to do, dying for your sake, rising again to new life, so that you can live, forever reconciled to God, starting now.

Then you, too, can join Mary in saying, “I have seen the Lord.”

The Lord is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia.

Good Friday

Not dusk,
no moon or stars, as on a clear night;

This dark was thick, oppressively thick;
All the goodness that ever existed
had been sucked out of the world.

And we were

It was so….

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

– Latin 12th c.; German, Paul Gerhardt (1607-1676)
Translated, James W. Alexander (1804-1859)

A New Commandment

Meditation for Holy Thursday – John 13:1-17, 31-35

We gather soon, as they did in that upper room. Some will take off shoes and socks, and let the warm water bathe tired feet. Some will wash another’s hands instead. Some will receive bread and wine (or juice) and remember, as we were commanded to remember, that night when Jesus said, “this is my body, this is my blood.”

That same night, Jesus also said, “I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” Washing feet, wearing a towel, kneeling in front of each disciple, serving. That’s the example Christ shows us.

And he gives a new commandment: “Love each other, just as I have loved you.”

It’s easier to remember bread and cup, Lord Jesus.

I’d rather wear a towel and serve, dear Lord.

But love? The way you love?

Lord help me.

Whatever you have to do…

Meditation for Holy Wednesday on John 13:21-32

Get on with it.

Get a move on.

Hurry up!

We’re burnin’ daylight, people!

What are you waiting for?


Jesus said, “Do quickly what you are going to do.”

Get on with it. If you’ve decided to betray the Savior of the World, there is no time to waste.

Get a move on. This betrayal sets everything in motion. There are lots of players involved. They are waiting for their cue from you.

Hurry up! The time has come. Get going. There is no reason to wait any longer.

What are you waiting for? It’s too late to change your mind. What’s done is done.

We’re burnin’ daylight, people! Did you hear “Walk while you have the light” only yesterday?

Hustle! Time is of the essence. Go. Now.

Do quickly what you are going to do. Get it over with, for your own sake. Don’t draw out the agony of knowing you have caused an irreversible sequence of events to unfold, events that will lead to the death of the One you call Lord, Master, Teacher.

Oh, I’m sorry, Jesus. Were you talking to Judas?

I thought you meant me.



We Would See Jesus

Meditation for Holy Tuesday – John 12:20-36

I’ve always wondered what happened to those Greeks who approached Philip. Did they stand aside, waiting for a private audience, while Philip found his brother to go with him to Jesus on their behalf? Did they tag along behind the brothers, hoping for a word with the Word made flesh? Or did they merge into the crowd as Jesus began to teach about his own death?

We never learn the answer. By the end of this passage, Jesus has slipped away to hide from the crowd. Interesting … Many times, Jesus has escaped the pressure of the crowd around him, leaving them to pray, to be alone with his inner circle of disciples, or to rest. But I don’t recall anywhere before this that Jesus has left the crowd specifically to hide.

It is doubly ironic that, just before Jesus hid from the crowd, he told them to “walk in the light.” Just before sneaking off into the shadows, Jesus says, “If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going.” Yet Jesus knew exactly where he was going. The Light of the World was about to enter his darkest days on earth. 

Lord, help me to follow you through the shadows of my own fear, my own blindness, into the light of your glorious resurrection. Keep me focused on you, sweet Lord Jesus. Amen.

A Pound of Nard

Holy Week Meditation on John 12:1-11

This was NOT a funeral dinner. It was supposed to be a funeral dinner. Martha had been working on it for days  – but Jesus had changed all those plans when he’d shown up at Lazarus’ tomb. Now, instead of sharing fond memories of the deceased, the friends gathered around this table were talking and laughing with him. Lazarus had become an overnight celebrity: The One Who Was No Longer Dead. This was a celebration dinner.

But Death does not get to sit at this table. Lazarus offers visible proof that Death has no power over Jesus, and even if those enjoying Martha’s fine cooking don’t fully comprehend it yet, we know that Jesus will completely defeat death before John’s story is finished. For now, let’s take a closer look at this feast in Bethany, and especially at the gift Mary brings to the guest of honor.

The other gospels tell us that the nard was in an alabaster jar. The only way to open the sealed jar was to break it, so this was an all-or-nothing gift. It’s possible that the nard might have belonged to Mary’s dowry, so pouring out this perfume on Jesus’ feet could have signified a substantial sacrifice on Mary’s part. If she had been saving the nard for her own bride price, this gift has suddenly reduced her marriage chances to practically zero.

But Mary gave it all. She poured the entire contents of that jar onto Jesus’ feet, and rubbed it in with her hair.

What an intimate, scandalous thing to do! For an unmarried woman to touch a man was shocking. For a woman to let down her hair in public was also considered completely inappropriate behavior. Yet, here she was, abandoning all decorum as she wiped the perfume on Jesus’ feet with her hair. In a few days, Jesus would kneel at the feet of his disciples and wipe them with a towel in exactly the same way. But Mary was not using perfume like soap and water. Jesus said that Mary was anointing him for burial. Mary could not know the details of what was to happen in just a few short days, but she could worship her Lord now, in the present moment, with all she had to offer.

These last days of Lent are always the hardest for me. I get weary of lamenting my sins. I want to say, “Enough already! I’ve repented! I’ve confessed! I’ve submitted myself to discipline! I’m tired of all this introspection and self-examination! I’m ready for Easter! Let me get on with my life!” But do you hear those words? “I,” “Myself,” “Me,” “My?” It’s easy to fall into that trap of self-absorption, to become self-centered, instead of Christ-centered. These forty days of Lent, like the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness, are just enough time to weaken us so Satan can tempt us to lose our focus on Christ. Mary comes to remind us to choose the better part, to keep our eyes on Jesus, to serve him with all that we are and all that we have.

As we enter Holy Week, let us ponder what we can offer the Lord of All. What would cost us as much as Mary’s perfume cost her? What are we willing to sacrifice to bring honor and glory to the One who died so that we might live?