A Precious Gift

"A PRECIOUS GIFT"

a message by Rev. Dr. Bruce Havens

Coral Isles Church, U.C.C.

April 6, 2025

John 12:1-8   NRSV

1 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 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 the perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Has anyone ever given you an extravagant gift, so extremely extravagant it was almost embarrassing?  Has anyone ever expressed their love for you so extravagantly that you were embarrassed?  This story this morning focuses on an almost embarrassingly extravagant gift.  Mary spent what might have been the equivalent of a year’s salary for most people on the lotion she used on Jesus’ feet.  It was an extravagant gift, a precious gift.

Talk about precious gifts.  Just last week we read the story of Jesus giving Mary’s brother, Lazarus, the gift of life.  He literally gave him his life back after he had died.  So let’s don’t get tacky and compare the value of one gift to another.  Let’s acknowledge that both are extravagant gifts, but Jesus didn’t have to pay someone to buy back Lazarus’ life.  Mary, unless she was a thief - and no one claims that - bought a perfume, a lotion, an ointment more valuable than anything Chanel or Dior or anyone ever came up with.  It was a precious gift. 

And of course there were critics in the house.  Judas pipes up: why was this money spent on Jesus’ feet instead of going to those in real need?  It is a valid question.  Except John tells us it wasn’t.  Judas didn’t really care for the poor, John says, he just wanted to embezzle the money spent on that lotion wasted on Jesus’ feet.  Now, I don’t want to get sidetracked too far on Judas, but can I ask some questions here?  Questions I’ve never gotten good answers to from Scripture or theologians?  If Jesus was as, say, one with God as we believe, and as John insists, didn’t he know what Judas was?  Didn’t he know Judas was a thief, and worse, one willing to trade betrayal for 30 pieces of silver?

At the same time, perhaps the same could be said of that whole bunch of disciples Jesus picked:  Matthew - a tax collector the most hated profession of the day.  John, James, and Peter: smelly, poor uneducated fishermen, for God’s sake.  And did Jesus not know in advance that Peter would deny knowing him when the dealing got rough?  And then there was Simon, the Zealot.  That’s a nice word for a violent insurrectionist.  Then as I thought more about it, I asked these questions:  did Jesus see how badly Judas needed him, how much Peter, and John, and Simon needed Jesus in their lives.  Did he see how impoverished spiritually they were, how lacking in a sense of being loved and loving others? 

And there is Mary pouring out her love for Jesus on his feet, tenderly, passionately, perhaps weeping knowing she was preparing him for burial?  Perhaps Judas hated it because it just reminded him somewhere inside how unloved and unlovable he felt.  Let me stop to deal with his complaint about this precious gift and Jesus’ response.  Judas took the attack approach so many like him take – fake righteousness.  He says this should have been used for the poor.  Jesus responds, telling him to leave her alone, she had done it to prepare him for what was to come.  And then the line that gets misunderstood, misused and mistaken for something else.  Jesus says, you won’t have me with you always, but you will always have the poor with you.

Here’s the real context of that line. The ancient words in Deuteronomy read:

“Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.”

So let’s put aside any assumptions or defenses for not helping those in need at the personal level, at the national level, and at the international level, especially if we are going to blow noise about being a “Christian nation.”

Now let me get back to that precious gift and offer one more observation, or suggestion.  I said that perhaps Jesus knew just how badly flawed every one of those gathered at the dinner table were.  I think he did whether you want to give him spiritual superpowers or not.  I think he understood the love that lavished that lotion on his lower limbs.  And I think he returned that love.  I think he also understood and had deep undying love for all those flawed folks he had gathered to be his closest followers and the future leaders of his purposes and mission.

He knew in a few short days that one would deny him, one would betray him, the rest would scatter.  Basically only the women remained close by the cross as he suffered and died.  But he didn’t give up on them.  He loved them so much he would soon wash their feet much like Mary had washed his.  He would invite them to sit at the table and celebrate the most precious symbolic meal of their religion.  He did all that because despite everything he still wanted to give them the most precious gift he could – his love, and by definition the perfect, forgiving love of God. 

As we gather at this table in a few moments, let us remember what a precious gift it is to be invited.  Let us remember that all of us are invited: the holy, the hurting, the almost perfect and the most imperfect.  He invites the good little boys and girls and the scalawags, rogues, and even the ones we would consider the most unlovable.  As I wrote these words I was struggling with this truth.  The test of every one of our hopes and theologies that insist that God welcomes all is to wonder if the worst humans in history or occupying our minds and news right now would be welcome.  I have to confess it has troubled me to think that while I may hate what so many in the news are doing now Jesus holds out hope for them to come to his table and taste the precious gift of grace.  To be transformed into the person God intended.  To find a different path in life, one that showed the kind of love God has for each person.

While I can’t imagine welcoming some, it reminds there are some who can’t imagine God welcoming me.  And that’s ok, because I don’t get to judge them, and they don’t get to judge me.  So angry as I can be with what is going on right now, I am grateful for the precious gift of love we call communion.  Because I believe Jesus is here when we come to this table, and I believe he understands every one of my hateful impulses and every possibility of me being transformed, of me repenting - to use that Biblical word - and of me celebrating this love, this precious gift with all my siblings here and ultimately, everywhere, from every time and place in the next reality.

So I must try to do better.  I must try to remember that while my love fails – often – the host at this table, well his love never fails.  And I believe that is the most precious gift there is.  And all I can say in response to that is praise, is “alleluia,” and that’s the song I want to sing as we get ready to come to this table, where Christ is still with us even now.  Alleluia.  AMEN.