"Washing Jesus' Feet"

John 12:1-8

There are a lot of folks that come to the door of my office looking for help. Some of it is financial, although most of it has to do more with the giving of advice, or just needing some time and a listening ear. Sometimes responding to those requests is hard - our financial resources are limited, as is my time. Like most people, I manage to keep myself pretty busy.

So, when I hear Jesus say: "The poor you will have with you always," I think to myself that is most certainly true. The need never stops. And since the poor are always there - since there is always a lot more need than I can ever begin to address - I tend to be judicious in handing out our limited resources. Because our resources are limited, I also find myself thinking more about what I don't have, than what I do have. And, if I'm not careful, because of my awareness of our limited resources, I begin to see people in a different way. I don’t want to have yet another person asking me to share what little I have with them. I start to see people and their needs as a bother, and as a burden.

When I get to thinking that way, however, I revisit this story - because it talks about my use of the gifts God has given me in helping others, and helps me understand how I might better minister to them.

The setting of this story is one of worship. It is six days before Passover - a week before Jesus' death. It is the end of the Sabbath. Mary, Martha and Lazarus - Jesus' closest friends - are gathered with him and the disciples. Jesus just raised Lazarus from the dead. Mary, who had accused Jesus of not caring about her brother, is sitting at Jesus' feet, rather than at the table. Normally, a servant might, at that point, wash Jesus' feet as an act of hospitality. Instead, Mary takes the servant’s place. She takes an alabaster box of spices, worth a whole year's wages, breaks it open, and bathes his feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair. Normally, one would anoint a person's head with such an expensive perfume, using just a few drops. But Mary feels unworthy to anoint his head. Rather, she empties the whole box of perfume on his feet, not sparing a drop. For her, it is an act of love, trying to let Jesus know what he means to her, trying, in some measure, to atone for her previous lack of faith in him. It is an act of worship, for the one who brought her dear brother back to her - back to life.

In the midst of this act of worship, however, we suddenly hear the voice of Judas, accusing her: "With the money we could have gotten for that perfume, we could have taken care of the needs of a lot of poor people!" John also notes that he wasn't really concerned about the poor, but about himself. It is in this context, in response to Mary's gift and Judas' accusation, that Jesus says, "You will always have the poor with you."

As the early church looked back on this event, it realized that Jesus was saying something important about its gathered life and its concerns. The fact was that the early church was comprised mostly of the poor. Paul notes this in 1 Corinthians 1 (26-29), when he says, "Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose that which was foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose that which was weak to shame the strong. He chose that which was lowly in this world and that which was despised - even that which was nothing - to nullify the things that are considered to be something, so that no one may boast before him." So when Jesus says, "You will always have the poor among you," John's church received that statement as a description of them. Jesus also says that, in the poor, we meet him. They took that as descriptive of their situation as well. Then, here, Jesus goes on to say: "You will not always have me with you." And he tells Judas that Mary is anointing him for his burial. After his rising, however, we will, of course, see him - in the church, in the poor, and in the needy!

This passage has been used to defend a lack of response to the poor. If we will always have them with us, so the argument goes, then why should we help them? It is divinely ordained that there will always be poor. So the church should just be like Mary, and focus on Jesus - on "spiritual" things. But that is a betrayal of the intent of the Jesus' message. Far from forgetting the poor, what Jesus wants us to understand, is that our giving - our helping of others - is an act of worship. Our worship, and our giving to help the poor, go together.

I've often heard it said of various congregations, including this one, that they respond well to needs. That's fine. But our response to others, as Christians, is not simply a matter of meeting needs. Our giving is not simply the response of simple Christian compassion for the down-and-out. The point of this story is that our response to others is an act of worship, directed, ultimately, not so much to the needy as toward our Lord. It was Jesus who identified himself with this kind of giving, who said, "I was hungry and you gave me food. I was naked and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me." What response can we make toward the one who not only brought Lazarus back to life, but who gives us life as well? The only fitting response we can make to the one who gave himself extravagantly for us, is that of extravagant love in return. Each time we respond to a person in need, we sit with Mary at Jesus' feet. The gifts that we possess are the alabaster jar in our hands. And the question before us is how we will spend these gifts - how will we give them? Will we hold back on the expensive perfume, and just do what is nominally required – sprinkle a little water on his feet - possibly even ask someone else to do it for us? Will we put a little dab of perfume on his head, and consider it an extravagant gift - after all, that's a bit above and beyond the call of duty, isn't it? Or will we give ourselves and our gifts extravagantly to him, not counting the cost of the gift – in the same way he gave himself for us?

So the story is not about counting the cost. It has to do, first of all, with our heart, and the way in which we view those who come to us with needs. Will we see them as the presence of the Christ, whom we are invited to worship? If we see them in that way, it doesn't really matter whether they are good or bad, or whether they will use the gift wisely or not. We aren’t called to be accountants. That isn't the important issue. The important issue is that we have been given an opportunity, through them, to worship Jesus. Then the other question has to do with the way we will meet Christ in them - will we give ourselves grudgingly or extravagantly? That doesn't mean that we give all of our money or resources to every person who comes through the door - but that we meet them, deal with them, care for them, as we would for Christ himself, offering ourselves to them as our worship of Christ.

There is one other note in this text. It says that, as Mary ministered to Jesus, the smell of the fragrant perfume filled the room. A little water would have cleaned his feet - it would have been enough to do the job - and more than many would be willing to do. But it wouldn't have filled the room with perfume. A little dab of perfume of his feet or head would have been nice. It might have been soothing to him. He might have enjoyed that. But it wouldn't have filled the room with fragrance. Mary broke the jar, and filled the room with its fragrance. The room John writes about isn't just the one in which Jesus happened to be sitting that day. The room is life itself. Our extravagant worship of Jesus, he is saying, fills life with the perfume of God's grace.

There are a couple of ways in which we can give to others:

• Some, of course, won't give at all. There's is the attitude, "What's mine is mine."
• We can give stingily, only giving what is necessary, only what is required. That is the response of the thankless heart. It's giving that produces little benefit - either for the giver or the receiver. The giver hates to give it, and the receiver feels like a beggar.
• We can "give until it hurts." We can swallow hard and give more than necessary, believing that we might get some benefit from it eventually. Usually, it hurts pretty early on, so we stop giving - and so receive very little benefit from it. Our giving improves, perhaps, but the way we feel about it doesn't. People and their needs are still seen by us as burdens to be borne, and we don't look forward to being the one put upon to help others.
• We can see giving as an act of worship, and give extravagantly. We give the person who needs a little time as much time as they need - and maybe more - because in doing so we are spending time with Jesus, worshipping him. We respond to the beggar at the door with extravagant care and hospitality, knowing that we are engaged in an act of worship, extending hospitality to Christ. And at the end, they feel honored and helped, and we feel better for it, and are thankful for the opportunity. It feeds us, strengthens us, and draws us closer to Christ - because we have not simply been meeting needs, but performing an act of worship. We have been drawn into the presence of Christ, sitting at his feet, ministering to him.

My wife's grandmother used to live near the railroad lines, back in the days of the Great Depression. It was not uncommon for hobos to stop by her place for a sandwich. She never let a person leave her house hungry. She came to find out that they would mark the curb by her house, as a place where hospitality was given, so that others might know that here was a place where they would not be refused food and care. There is no greater ministry than the ministry of hospitality. We cannot meet all the needs of the world. We are not asked to. But we can meet the needs of those at our door - those who come to us for help - those who are "among us." In caring for them, we are not merely meeting needs. We are not merely showing Christian compassion. We are worshipping Christ. As he was so extravagant in giving his life for us, let us be extravagant in our love for one another. And may the sweet fragrance of our gifts fill our lives with his presence.