“The Prodigal Sister”
5 Lent C –
John 12:1-8
Brothers and sisters in Christ, Grace and Peace to you from our Triune God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Last week we heard the story of the Prodigal Son. In that story, the son of the wealthy father was called prodigal because he was, as the dictionary says, given to extravagant expenditure. As the story unfolds, we see the son being recklessly wasteful. Lavishing throwing away his property and his money on parties, drink, and fair-weather friends. In a short time the prodigal spent every penny of his large inheritance.
But he did much worse than being a prodigal in the dictionary sense. As Pastor Rolf reminded us, he was also reckless and extravagant in his relationships with his family: he broke his father’s heart and alienated his older brother. The Prodigal son’s extravagance cost him everything in life. It was only his Father’s mercy that restored him to a new life in his family.
Today, however, we hear a story about a different kind of Prodigal, what I like to call the Prodigal sister. This story presents a stark contrast to the prodigal son. Instead of the son’s selfish extravagance and waste, we see Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus, enact, on Jesus’ very body and person, an extravagant act of love. Call it the ultimate sister act.
Instead of relationships being torn apart and thrown away as with the prodigal sin, the prodigal sister deepens relationships. Mary physical expresses her devotion to Jesus through touch. We see her prostrate at Jesus’ feet, rubbing in the perfume with her hair. We hear Jesus’ words of appreciation. He defends Mary when Judas claims she is wasting money better spent on the poor.
Like the Prodigal Son’s older brother, Judas fails to understand and accept Mary’s lavish expression of unrestrained love. He is blind to its meaning for him and for us. This blindness dooms Judas as surely as the 30 pieces of silver and the kiss in the garden. He fails to see that Mary’s extravagant act embodies the faith and love of a repentant sinner for her savior.
Will we be as blind as Judas, or will we see that Mary’s act calls us, in our relationship to Jesus, to be prodigal in the sister sense, too. Our lives depend on “getting” this story today. For in Mary’s anointing of Jesus at the dinner table in Lazarus’ house, Mary connects death and resurrection, the kingdom to come and the kingdom that is here. Since she doesn’t speak, Mary confesses her faith through an extravagant act of devotion to Jesus. Though she may not know it, Mary’s act is a crucial part of the witness to Jesus’ saving act on the Cross.
That is what you and I are called to remember and enact in our lives as disciples this Lenten season. We began Lent with touch. The ashes of last year’s palms from Passion Sunday, mixed with olive oil, were imposed on your forehead by finger. We begin Lent with the remembrance of Christ’s suffering and death. Mary, in anointing Jesus, prepares him for that same suffering and death.
Remember who is sitting at the table with Jesus, Mary, Martha and the others. It is Lazarus, a man who, only a few days earlier lay dead in his tomb. Can you imagine the conversation around that dinner table. “Hi, David, I’m your host Lazarus. I used to be dead. But now I’m not. I work in sales. What do you do?”
It’s easy to forget that, in a real sense, death and resurrection are both at that dinner table. We miss that connection. But it is an important part of the meaning of what Mary action here. The whole scene takes place in the presence of a man who was just raised from the dead!! Many of the people present at dinner saw Lazarus walk out of the tomb when Jesus commanded him to “Come Forth!”
Mary’s anointing may be a form of thanks to Jesus for that resurrection. But the very extravagance and prodigal-ness make it clear that it is much more. Mary believes Jesus is who he says he is, and unlike the disciples, she acts on her faith.
These same people smelled the stench of death as Lazarus emerged from the tomb. After the anointing, they smell life “The house was filled with the fragrance of perfume.” If you have teenage girls who get a little extravagant with the perfume, you know what that’s like -- not only the house, but most of the neighborhood is “filled with the fragrance”. It maybe overpowering, but it’s a sign of life. You miss it when it’s not there.
That all-pervasive living quality of the perfume in Lazarus’ house is exactly what John wants to set in contrast to the stench of the tomb, the smell of which is probably still in Lazarus nostrils. Life and love vs. death and the tomb.
Mary’s act not only confesses Jesus as King, not only points toward the burial preparations that will follow his coming death. And on the most profound level, Mary’s anointing of Jesus is a prophetic act that anticipates and point to the extravagant, lavish --some will say wasteful (it certainly seemed like it at the time) gift that Jesus gives all of us from the cross -- his life, his blood, his body.
Mary’s anointing of Jesus at that dinner is intimately connected to the living truth that Jesus reigns as King in his crucifixion. In other words, the story of the prodigal sister is a necessary part of the story of the cross. How fitting that it should happen in a town called
The challenge for us is to take this story of the prodigal sister and make it ours. Not just to identify with Mary, but to live it ourselves. How do we bring that sense of extravagant, risky, down-on-your-knees, fill-up-the-room with-heavenly-aromas, kind of action to our relationship with Christ and through with others.
When was the last time you did something that made no sense but you knew was right? What was that last thing you did that broke all the rules of reason and relationship, yet, in retrospect was the only thing that could have possibly worked out? And it did!
Or try it from the perspective of our gospel today: when was the last time you have done something -- especially something public, whether among strangers or friends or family -- when was the last time you have done something that can be explained in no other way than as an extravagant, even prodigal, act of love?
Did you feel like a fool before or when you did it? Were their people, like Judas who had better, more logical reasons for doing it? Probably yes to both questions. Did you regret doing it later? Probably not.
Like Mary, our prodigal sister acts are often related to death or suffering. Have you driven 700 miles non-stop to be with a dying relative? Have you spared no expense or poured yourself out by ceaselessly giving your time to nurse a sick child or care for an elderly parent? Then you carry the prodigal sister inside you. The sister whose response to death is to love extravagantly.
Last Saturday, sudden tragic death took the life of Thomas Cook, Jr., a young man who was former member of this congregation and a friend of many of you. In our role as police chaplains, Pastor Rolf and I were present with the family and friends for several hours. We were touched in powerful ways by Thomas’ death and the loss and grief it brought with it.
When I got home a little after 10, I pulled a Prodigal Sister. I didn’t wait to take my jacket off, or give a word of explanation. One by one I hugged my daughters, my wife, even my son. Like Mary, I didn’t say a word. For me this was a rather extravagant display of emotion. I’ll bet many of you did the same when you heard.
Of course, my family thought I was nuts -- at least until I told them what had happened. But my Mary moment couldn’t wait. The only way to deal with death -- as all of us must -- is to touch, to give, to love. Or as Mary did, to anoint the Lord, who on the Cross touches and gives and loves beyond anything we can imagine.
When have shown your Savior a Prodigal Sister kind of love? And who in your life needs you to anoint them with an extravagant love? And remember, no act of love in the presence of Christ and in his Kingdom is too extravagant?
This kind of act can’t wait, you know. It’s what it means to be a disciple. It’s the way to see the cross as life as well as death. It’s how we see the hope that lies beyond the grave. A big love. A prodigal sister’s love for her Lord. Amen.
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