It was just before Palm Sunday when Jesus arrived at the home of Lazarus. As told in John’s Gospel, it was the night before the procession. The night before Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a young donkey while the crowds there along the streets shouted “Hosanna.” It was the eve of Palm Sunday, as in the night before that Triumphal Entry. Jesus and the odd parade that provided the down beat to the events that would lead to his death. Just prior to the dinner party, John describes how the religious leaders, the chief priests and the Pharisees, how they had decided to put Jesus to death. The word was out that they were looking for him and Jesus could no longer walk around openly. But on this night, just before Palm Sunday, Jesus had come to Bethany to the home of Lazarus for dinner.
      Jesus had just raised him from the dead. Mary and Martha had sent word to Jesus that Lazarus was ill. By the time Jesus arrived Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” Martha said when Jesus finally got there. That’s when Jesus said “I am the resurrection and life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, yet shall they live.” It was when he saw Mary weeping at the tomb of Lazarus, that’s when Jesus wept. Then he told someone to move the stone away from the tomb entrance, offered a prayer of thanksgiving, and cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And the man walked right out of the tomb still in his burial clothes. “Unbind him and let him go!” Jesus said.
      So it’s his house, the home of Lazarus. That’s the house where Jesus came for dinner just before Palm Sunday. “They gave a dinner for him.” is how John put it. It seems a touch understated, doesn’t it? This Teacher/Healer/Savior/Word Made Flesh, this man who had just brought the owner of the house back from the dead. “They gave a dinner for him.” And Martha served. Of course she did. Martha always served. And, just so you don’t miss it, that the dinner is there in the home of the man Jesus had raised from the dead, in case you didn’t get that, John tells the reader that Lazarus was one of those there at the table with Jesus. This was a celebrating life, a death defying, kind of dinner party. A welcome home feast. WELCOME HOME in all capital letters. This was one of those “our brother was lost, but now he is found” kind of banquet. A fatted calf kind of party. A reception there at the house. A reception for life that could have just as easily been a reception in the face of death. This was an Easter Sunday family celebration before there was an Easter to celebrate!
      Sometime during the dinner party Mary took center stage. Mary of Bethany. Sister of Martha. Sister of Lazarus. Mary. When Jesus saw her in grief there at the tomb of Lazarus he was deeply moved. This was the same Mary described in Luke’s gospel sitting at the Lord’s feet and listening to everything he was saying. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Jesus knew of her devotion. Her tender heart. Her desire to attend to him. Jesus knew of the devotion of Mary of Bethany. Others must have not been so sure when she brought out that pound of perfume; when she took the lid off or cracked the jar.
      Expensive didn’t begin to describe it, really. John tags it as costly. That’s another part of his understating, like “Martha served”. It was costly. According to Judas it was worth 300 denarii. One denarii was a day’s wage. This tub of nard was worth a year’s wage. Not very easy to translate when adjusting for inflation. 40, 50, 75 thousand dollars worth of lotion? It was costly. The fragrance filled the house. I bet calling it a fragrance was being polite, giving it the benefit of the doubt. One person’s expensive beautiful perfume can simply be another person’s allergic reaction. The odor filled the house. As John Calvin writes about this text, it was not a simple smell, but a “compound of many odoriferous substances; and therefore” Calvin concludes, “it is not wonderful that the whole house was filled with the odor.” It would appear that even the smell would have turned the party up a notch or two when it came to the degree of celebration, the luxury of the moment.
      Mary took the perfume made of pure nard and she anointed the feet of Jesus, wiping his feet with her hair. There is a certain sensuality to it, I guess. Mary of Bethany with her hair let down, wiping the feet of the guest of honor. But it was there in the sight of all. Sister. Brother. Guests. The scene takes place there with Lazarus still at the table; the one who had been on the other side of death’s door for more than a few nights. There’s no record of others being uncomfortable with the touch, with the hair. No indication that Mary was turning the dinner party into what should have been a private moment. Judas was the one who was upset. Yes. But it couldn’t be more clear could it? Judas wasn’t upset about the appearance of impropriety. Judas wasn’t overly concerned about the poor. Judas was worried about the money. He figured Mary bought the pound of flesh oil with the coins set aside for the shared expenses of Jesus and the twelve. He already been skimming from that. Some would argue that when it came to Judas, it was always just about the money.
      A pound of perfume that was way expensive. A house now filled with an unavoidable smell. And Mary once again there at Jesus’ feet. This time not listening, but finishing her act of extravagant devotion. A pound was for more than just the feet. The odor was stronger than what would come from a quick footwashing. She must have started at his head and worked that lotion all the way to his feet. And with her hair there upon his feet, that humble, if not humiliating act of service, it was if she was rubbing every last drop. From head to toe. The hole jar. A complete anointing. It must have lasted a lot longer than the verses used to describe it. The anointing. Mary rubbed and wiped until she was finished. Until the anointing was done. The perfume was gone but that smell would have lingered in the house a long time
      Jesus finally tells Judas to back off. “Leave her alone.” He said it to Judas and to those in the house who were thinking the same thing but chose not to speak. Jesus said to all in every generation who would have such judgmental ears, those who have judgmental ears to hear. “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” What she has and what she has done, it is for the day of my death. It is the preparation of my body for suffering and for death. Leave her alone. All of this was intended and kept for the purpose of embalming my body at the time of death. What goes unsaid by Jesus, perhaps not wanting to take all the air out of the resurrection party for Lazarus, what goes unsaid is that the time is now. That time, that death time for him has arrived. That time just before Palm Sunday. It was time to prepare for his death and Mary of Bethany was the only one who got it.
      There in the house with the party going on, that celebration of life restored. There where everyone was feasting on joy, taking it all in, consuming life, as it were, Mary understood. The one of such devotion. Mary, who chose the better portion, she knew. She had a tender heart, she wore it on her sleeve as they say, but deep within her heart of hearts she got the part about his suffering and death. She figured out what was coming next. With all of her devotion, with her whole heart, with her whole self, with her hair let down, she was attending to what Jesus would endure. Her focus was him, and those feet that would soon find a corner in the Garden, and the feet that would stand before Pilate, the feet that would carry him to his death, the feet that would be nailed to the cross. Mary knew. The extravagance of her devotion had nothing to do with the cost of the perfume. It was her extraordinary willingness to see and attend to and prepare for the suffering of Jesus. Resurrection celebrations always draw a crowd, but on that night just before Palm Sunday, Mary again found herself alone at the feet of Jesus.
      “You will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” I wonder if there are some quotes he would like to take back. Jesus and a do-over on some sound bites. Those who have will forever use that quote to avoid the mandate of the gospel keeping the character flaw of Judas alive and well. As if it were ever “all about the money.” When it is just before Palm Sunday that proverbial wisdom of Jesus is nothing other than an invitation to join Mary in her attention to the better portion, in her preparations for the Lord’s suffering and death, in her desire to block out the distractions and even the celebrations of life, in her devotion to Jesus. “You do not always have me.” he said to those who just wanted to get on with the resurrection party, get on with life.
      It was just before Palm Sunday when Jesus arrived at the home of Lazarus. And it’s just before Palm Sunday, now, isn’t it? Check the bulletin. The church website. Your calendar. Your Palm. The school schedule. Your travel plans. There’s a party going on. It’s just before Palm Sunday. Has anyone seen Mary of Bethany?

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