Remembering Who We Are

Preparing For Partings

John 12:1-8<= /b>

Isaiah 43:16-21

The classic ‘coming-of-age’ film “= Summer of ‘42” begins with families arriving by ferry at one of the New England coastal islands where beaches and surf, summertime leisures and summertime friends take over the rituals of life fo= r a few magic months. Three boys frolic in the sand, summertime friends now old enough to gawk at attractive bodies on the beach, check out what girls migh= t be on the island with them, and otherwise do the things boys do in early adolescence. Then comes a poignant moment in which, from the top of a sand dune, the boys observe a farewell scene.

Below them on the dock a young woman is hugging and kissing a young man in uniform who is about to board a small navy launch. T= hey hang on to one another with the obvious affection of young lovers until the very last second for one final kiss, and the young man has to jump from the dock to get aboard as the boat pulls away. Their waving hands continue to s= ay ‘good-bye’ until they depart from one another’s sight and= a sad young lover walks slowly back toward her house by the beach. Later on in the film she receives the dreaded letter that begins: “We regret to inform you….”

In the summer of 1942 many similar farewells did take place --- the world having plunged into its second global war --- and those partings came with a sad awareness that for many, the flag of a grateful na= tion would come home to them in place of their loved ones, and things would neve= r be the same for them again. We were reminded just last week by news of a young= man from Mattawan that such sacrifices continue to happen in our time, as well.= How does one prepare for the possibility of parting from a loved one for the le= ngth of this earthly life?

Parents stand vigil at the bedside of a child in int= ensive care after an accident or other unexpected event brings to reality a parent’s worst nightmare. A young life hangs in the balance. It’= ;s the life of a son or daughter whom they have nursed and nurtured, loved and cared for with all the hopes and fears that go with being a parent. Someone once said that “to h= ave a child is to allow your heart to go running around in the world outside of y= our body.” If this be so, how does one prepare for even the possibility o= f a life-long parting from one to whom such heart-felt love has been given?

A single mother who has raised her children as best = she could in a poverty-stricken neighborhood from which they could not escape, sadly reflects on the ways in which the many effects of that poverty have touched her children. They grew up playing on streets where drugs were sold, where violence was commonplace and where few successful role-models were to= be found. She is visiting her daughter who, for the first time, is in a place where they can talk only through iron bars.

The girl she raised with hopes of her doing better i= n life than the mom had is now wearing an orange uniform and will shortly be transferred to a prison far from home where it will be difficult for a poor family to visit very often, if at all, and where even phone calls home will= be so expensive, due to the state’s added-on fees, that those on the edg= e of poverty can’t afford to make very many. How does one prepare for such a pa= rting, knowing that this piece of your heart which has been walking around in the world outside of you will now be sitting for a long time in a place where h= er life will likely waste away?

Today’s Gospel story has to do with preparing = to part from a loved one. It takes place in Bethany, a short distance from Jerusale= m. Jesus is making what we know to be his final journey to ‘the holy city’ and his confrontation with the powers of this world --- the pow= ers of both religious bureaucracy and political empire. Similar stories appear = in both Matthew and Mark, but John alone places the happening at the home of M= ary and Martha and their brother Lazarus, whom Jesus had earlier raised from the dead.

Jesus is the guest of honor at a dinner given by tho= se beloved friends. The disciples are there with Jesus, since they are accompanying him, somewhat warily, toward a destination --- he has warned t= hem --- they would understand only in retrospect. The most notorious of the disciples is the only one mentioned in the drama that develops around the t= able as the men feed their faces while Martha busies herself serving the food.
Surely inspired by her example, the “Martha Circle” of our Presbyterian Women continues to serve this congregation --- at table= and otherwise --- with the same energy and devotion, I dare say, that one can imagine in the biblical Martha! So I digress to thank all here who carry on= her tradition.

As the Passover approaches, Jews from the out-countr= y have swollen the crowds gathering in Jerusalem for the ‘high holy days.’ Although his fame is already spread throughout the region, word that the prophet and healer from Galilee has raised Lazarus from the dead has stirred up new interest, and many want= to see both the risen and the one who raised him. Who but God, after all, can = call back the living from the dead? Who is this prophet, really? What is going on here??

The conservative religious leaders in Jerusalem, identified as “the chi= ef priests and the Pharisees,” also want to see Jesus --- and Lazarus, as well --- because the down-country prophet’s popularity is threatening their control over the Jews, the orthodoxy of their faith and, potentially, their back-scratching relationship with a nervous Roman occupation governme= nt. According to John’s gospel, bringing Lazarus to life is the final str= aw that puts Jesus to death.

Because of who does --- and doesn’t --- have t= he authority to torture and kill those accused of being a threat to the social order, those plotting the death of Jesus have to arrange for an early form of “extreme rendition&#= 8221; --- that Orwellian label given to a practice of our Central Intelligence Ag= ency brought to light in recent times, a practice that surely falls short of acceptable moral standards for any civilized people. The Jews will have to get the Roman occupation forces to = do their dirty work --- and, indeed, they do.

Before Jesus’ fateful journey to Jerusalem is completed, there is this dinner in Bethany and a random act of kindness by a friend to prepare for their parting. A go= od meal is being enjoyed, we surmise, although the conversation around the tab= le is full of anxiety. Friends have heard that the authorities, along with the well-wishers and the curious, are looking for Jesus.

What that means and what is to be done in light of it casts a shadow over their discussion. The women, we suspect, are not only a= ware of the danger ahead, it’s likely --- from their social network --- th= at they knew about it first . . . just as it will be the female disciples who will be first= to know the final outcome of it all at an empty tomb less than two weeks later= .

Suddenly something starts to happen that disrupts the sober conversations going on around the table. While Martha is still busy replenishing the food, Mary enters the room carrying a container of costly perfume. She kneels at Jesus’ feet and opens it, releasing a pleasant odor. There’s a hush in the room for a moment as the men turn their attention to the source of this fragrance and what is being done with it.
Mary is “anointing” Jesus’ feet wi= th a very costly perfume which we learn is used not so much for ‘a dab here and= a dab there’ before a night on the town, but for preparing a body for burial to counter-act the unpleasant odors of decay. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial, <= /i>Jesus says in response to the hypocri= tical objection filed by that disciple known best for his betrayal.

The earliest written account of this story is also s= et in Bethany, but at the home of S= imon the leper, and it is an unidentified woman who appears with a jar of costly ointment and pours it on Jesus’ head --- where one would normally do = an “anointing” --- a soothing welcome to the present and preparati= on for the next steps in one’s journey. In Mark, is not Judas but rather= some who were there who expressed = anger about the perceived waste of something that could have been sold for the benefit of the poor. Jesus tells them in response that the woman has done what she could: she has anoin= ted my body beforehand for its burial, and he goes on to say that her deed of kindness will be remembered throughout the world for as long as the gospel = is preached!

Matthew’s version is akin to Mark’s as to setting, anonymity of the woman and anatomical location of the anointing, b= ut other sources of which Matthew was aware say it was all of the disci= ples who were angry about the percei= ved mis-use of resources.

Biblical scholars believe that the writer of John, w= ith its reference to Jesus’ feet being anointed and wiped with Mary’= ;s hair, may have woven the synoptic versions with another story found early in Luke’s gospel where a woman identified simply as “sinful” comes into a house where Jesus is eating with a spiritually-curious Pharisee who had invited him to lunch.

This woman proceeds to wash our Lord’s feet wi= th her tears and then dry them with her hair before anointing them with soothing ointment. In Luke’s setting, the story is about the forgiveness of si= n of even those considered “the least” in society, and it is reinfor= ced by the telling of a parable about forgiveness in response to the Pharisee’s ironic question as to why Jesus would want to be found in = the company of sinners.

She has done what she could: she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial, Mark said. She bought it so that she might keep = it for the day of my burial, was John’s quote, although his story indica= tes that some of what was bought at great price is used beforehand, as well, du= ring that meal in Bethany. She does what she can to prep= are for the departing of her friend, her Lord.

How, indeed, can we prepare for our inevitable partings from who and what we love in this life? Perhaps we give . . . we a= sk . . . and, finally, we simply trust. Mary knew she had no control over the situation in which her friend was about to find himself. The forces of hist= ory and the Providence of God were in charge of that. And so she gave him a comforting gift in gratitude for all he had done for her and to remind him,= in his coming time of trial, that he is very loved. The tangible way in which = her gift was given is, perhaps, even more important to the giver than the recei= ver. But that’s ok. . . .

Since Jesus had taught his followers how to pray, we= can assume that Mary was doing a lot of that on his behalf, as well, asking God= to be very close to him, to strengthen him, take care of him and keep him from evil. And then she had to simply trust that he was in God’s hands and that God would know how to handle that. Perhaps that approach would be a go= od model for us. . . .

As we near the end of this Lenten season and prepare= to reflect again on the painful partings of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, m= ay we be reminded to give of ourselves to one another for as long as we can --= - in every way that we can --- treasuring each day as a gift to be shared.

May we be reminded that we can ask God for faith to = endure the emptiness left by partings from those we hold dear, and for strength to face the fears that overwhelm us when even the threat of such partings star= es us in the face.

And may we learn to simply trust that all of our departings will be gently held in the hands of the God who is, as the hymn writer put it, “a shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home= .”