St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen, Jersey City NJ
March 13, 2016
Year C: The Fifth
Sunday in Lent
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8
The Sweet Fragrance of New Life
I
love living in Jersey City. I really do.
But,
let’s admit it: sometimes, it stinks.
I
don’t know if you’ve ever noticed this but sometimes, especially in the
morning, there’s a nasty odor hanging in the air. I’ve been told that the smell
comes from a tannery in Newark. I don’t know if that’s true. Maybe the smell comes
from the polluted Newark Bay, or the incinerator that pumps waste into the sky
night and day, or the hulking generating plant that sits smoking at the western
edge of the city.
I
don’t know what it is, but it stinks.
And,
if we’re honest, we have to admit that life stinks a lot, too.
Jersey
City isn’t the only place we’ve polluted, of course. Far from it. By now much
of God’s beautiful creation has been soiled and spoiled by us, God’s beautiful
creation that we’ve for so long treated as an open sewer.
And,
unfortunately, we’re paying the price for our abuse of the planet as
temperatures and tides rise, wiping out vulnerable creatures and communities
all around that world, as lead poisons the city of Flint and some thirty public
schools in Newark and no one would be surprised if our water is poisoned, too.
That
stinks.
Here
in our country, we’re in the midst of the most bizarre presidential campaign of
our lives as people flock to highly unlikely non-establishment candidates: a wealthy
reality TV celebrity and a Vermont Socialist who, each in their own way, have
said out loud what everybody knows - the system is corrupt, rotten.
Of
course, they offer very different messages and answers, but both get
that people are hurting, people are afraid, people are falling behind, the
divide between rich and poor is growing ever wider, and it sure looks like our
children won’t have it as good as we’ve had it.
That
stinks.
Thanks
to our work with Jersey City Together some of us have become increasingly aware
of the injustices in our own city: the tax abatements still being given for
development along the waterfront – some of the most valuable real estate in the
world – depriving our often substandard public schools of desperately needed
money; the unjust tax structure that has people in wealthy areas paying less
than their full share in property taxes; whole neighborhoods where just about
the only legal commerce is the very busy liquor store that can be found on
every other block.
That
stinks.
And
then there are the stinky aspects of our own lives.
Over
my nearly three years here as rector have become increasingly aware of how hard
so many of our lives are: the broken relationships and wounded families; the
struggle to pay the bills; the desperation of unemployment, underemployment,
and even over-employment, as some of us work long hours at more than one job
just to keep our heads above water.
There
are the physical and mental health challenges we face, making it difficult to just
get through the day – and the fears of what’s yet to come.
That
stinks.
It
was today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, the story of the anointing of Jesus
in Bethany, that got me thinking about… stinkiness.
All
four gospels tell the story of Jesus being anointed by a woman, though they
give different details of the event.
In
the Gospel of John, which we heard today, Jesus stops in Bethany on his way to
Jerusalem and visits the home of his friends, the sisters Mary and Martha and
their brother Lazarus.
Lazarus!
Remember Lazarus: Jesus’ friend who had died – who was already dead four days
when Jesus arrived at his tomb, greeted by the grief-stricken Mary and Martha.
Martha
had warned Jesus that her brother Lazarus had been dead for four days – he was really
dead – the body was already stinking – but Jesus ordered the stone rolled
away - “Lazarus come out!” and out
of the tomb came the stinking dead man – rising to new life.
Now,
in the story of the anointing at Bethany, John mentions Lazarus twice, making
sure that we catch that he’s there, alive and at the table, no longer stinking
but breaking bread with his sisters and his Lord.
Jesus
stops in Bethany on his way to Jerusalem
- where he knows what awaits him – a brief royal welcome with waving
palms, shouts of “Hosanna!” followed quickly by betrayal, rejection, mockery,
abandonment, torture, and death on the cross.
The
Son of God had come into the world only to be rejected by just about everyone –
to say that stinks is an understatement, for sure.
Jesus
knows his fate and so, it seems, does one other person: Mary of Bethany.
We’re
told that Mary uses a huge amount of costly perfume – an extravagant amount -
costing 300 denarii, about a year’s worth of wages for a worker – uses all of
that to anoint Jesus’ feet.
She
then wiped his feet with her hair in an almost unbelievably tender, intimate,
and generous act of love.
And,
“the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”
Throughout
his ministry – and most especially when he raised Lazarus from the dead – Jesus
transformed the stink of death – the stink of despair and fear and selfishness
– the stink of death – into the
fragrance of new life – the fragrance of hope, faith, and love.
Mary
of Bethany had the chance to give thanks to Jesus by imitating Jesus - by
pouring out perfume on his feet – she poured out great love and generosity –
and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume – the fragrance of
new life.
The
truth is that you and I have the chance to give thanks to Jesus by imitating
Jesus.
Look
around at the people here with us today – our lives stink a lot.
Look
at the people you pass on the sidewalk or who are in the car ahead of you or
who are sitting next to you on the bus or who live across the hall or across at
the street – their lives stink a lot, too.
Their
lives – our lives – stink with broken relationships and wounded families; the
struggle to pay the bills; the desperation of unemployment, underemployment,
and overemployment - stink with physical and mental health challenges – stink
with the fears of what’s yet to come.
Look
at the people all across this country frightened of immigrants and hateful
toward people of color – look at the people terrified of slipping further down
the economic and social ladder – look at the people desperate to go back to the
way things, supposedly, used to be – their lives stink a lot, too.
Look
at the people hanging outside Royal Liquors over on Bergen right now, loitering
near liquor stores all across this city, begging for change to buy the next
drink, their lives stinking for sure with the unmistakable odor of addiction
and despair.
You
and I are called to imitate Jesus and to imitate Mary of Bethany by pouring out
the perfume of love and generosity.
We
are called to pour out the perfume of love and generosity – not little drops as
if we’re afraid there won’t be enough perfume to go around – but really pour it out – really pour it out by loving and serving the people
closest to us and loving and serving our neighbors and strangers, by even
striving to love and somehow serve the person who broke into our church, even
if all we can do is pray, really
pray, for him or her.
We
are called to pour out the perfume of love and generosity so that our food bins
in the back of the church are overflowing with food - food at least as good as
what we eat and serve ourselves and those we love.
We
are called to pour out the perfume of love and generosity so that our diaper
collection surpasses 1000, maybe even 2000 diapers!
We
are called to pour out the perfume of love and generosity so that we forgive
those who’ve wronged us and, yes, at least try
to love those who are different, who don’t look or act like we do, to love the
people drunk on the street, nodding off on the corner, to love all the people
we don’t like or trust one bit.
If
we try, with God’s help, to pour out the perfume of love and generosity then we
can fill this house, we can fill this stinking old city, with the sweet fragrance
of new life.
May
it be so.
Amen.
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