Fifth Sunday in Lent: March 25, 2007.

Isaiah 43:16-21

Psalm 126

Philippians 3:4b-13

John 12:1-8

First Reading

There are signs in today's texts that "something is up." There is a sense of the future tumbling in upon us as we hear Isaiah pointing hopefully across the desert; as we hear Paul waving the church at Philippi forward, leaving behind all their extra baggage; and as we see Mary anointing Jesus for events that will change the world.

For the people of Israel, living in exile in Babylon, the events of the Exodus are an old story of bygone days. Perhaps the young roll their eyes as the elders recount the tales, wondering what all of this has to do with them. The reading from Isaiah is set in this context. The prophet, using images of the Exodus, reminds the people of the "good ol' days." Then, in a move that must have seemed like heresy to some and delusion to others, the prophet announces: "You ain't seen nothing yet." God is going to do a whole new thing--something that is reminiscent of the great deeds of Exodus but more than can be imagined. The desert that stands between home and the cursed place of exile will be opened up for passage and tamed by the divine hand. Isaiah's words create a space in the midst of despair for hope. They turn the terror of the trek home into a means of showing God's power (vv. 19-20). All of this is to come not because they are deserving but because God has called them to a vocation of praise before the nations (v. 21).

Paul's words issue a strong condemnation of clinging to the present way of looking at things. Paul describes his own credentials (vv. 4-6) as things that matter only in the old age (vv. 7-8). In fact, our credentials and deeds have been rendered "filth" ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], dung or garbage) in comparison to life in Christ. Paul expresses a yearning to embrace all that the new life in Christ offers (v. 10). Instead of seeing faith in Christ as a possession, an unchanging thing, Paul sees faith as something that drives us ahead into the future Christ has revealed. The image of running a race for all we're worth may not be a familiar way of looking at things for those who are more passive in spiritual matters.

John's Gospel presents the most in-depth look at the anointing of Jesus. It is connected to the raising of Lazarus, who is now seated at the table with Jesus. Jesus is among friends, those who love him (except for Judas, John reminds us). Anointing marks a change in direction in scripture. David is anointed king long before he takes the throne, but from that day forward his path, his life, and the life of Israel are altered.

The Passover is a recurring event in John. Each Passover points to Jesus' death and resurrection. The cleansing of the temple (John 2:13 ff.) and the feeding of the five thousand (John 6) show brewing conflict and advance Jesus' messianic mission and claims. The anointing acts as a marker that tells us that this next Passover will reach the zenith of Jesus' work.

Judas and Mary are contrasting characters. Mary can sense what is coming. She leans into the future, even if she does not yet fully see. She is the disciple straining for the light and life. Because she "gets it," her actions seem shameful (taking down her hair) and foolish (spending all that money). Judas is still in the dark and unable to see. His own greed (as John explains in v. 6) and his inability to trust Jesus' way keep Judas bound to the task he will undertake.

Pastoral Reflection

One of the artistic nuances that musicians deal with at the end of a piece of music is how long to hold the unresolved penultimate chord before resolving into the final note. The "Ah" must be just the right length before we reach "men." Too long is too much. Too short misses the tension and robs the resolution of its power. This final week of Lent is the "Ah" before the "men" of Holy Week and Easter. The preacher is called to lean toward where we are headed without rushing to the final cadence.

Living a life of anticipation is part and parcel of the Christian life as we live this side of the resurrection of all things. We see this anticipatory living played out in different ways in the readings for today. Isaiah deftly draws upon old refrains of Exodus in order to cast a vision of a trip home. Certainly there are parallels between living in Babylon, longing for release, and our lives today. In the face of terrorism, we can despair. In the face of financial pressures, we can dread the future. We too are capable of thinking that the "old, old, story" is just that: a story with no bearing on us. The preacher can borrow the message and technique of Isaiah to sound a hopeful cry that God is indeed always up to something new.

Paul's words to the Philippians bring to mind the image of taking teenagers camping for the first time. They show up with too much baggage to carry, sometimes even with curling irons and creature comforts that need to be plugged in. None of it will help, and all of it will hinder their travel. Paul sets aside what is worthless--his credentials and self-image--because he does not need them anymore. In Christ, he has been given all, and he will strain to embrace all that this means.

As pastors, we often get to walk with people through their final days. It is an honor beyond words. One thing we often observe is how the person facing death leaves behind more and more so that life is as full as possible. The dying don't have time to hold grudges or nurse old wounds. The dying don't have time to put up with pretense from others and see the folly of it in themselves. Paul urges us to live this kind of life, rooted in and yearning for Christ alone, as we live, not just as we face death.

In spite of the fact that Jesus rebukes those who rebuke Mary, some of us still think that Mary was wasteful, just too extravagant. We will apply this scene to our belief that stained-glass windows and expensive vestments and vessels are a waste. That John aligns those of us who feel this way with Judas is sobering. The difference between Judas's pragmatism (or deceit) and Mary's lavishness is rooted in anticipation. What makes Mary's gift perfectly acceptable is the gift that is coming through Jesus himself. She has some sense of what is ahead. Certainly the cross and resurrection of Jesus will pale the extravagance of her gift. In the shadow of the tomb and light of the empty tomb, what is expensive oil? Judas can't see this. He is an Israelite who can't imagine going home and a Philippian who clings to his titles. Perhaps if we could grasp, in a fleeting moment, the vision of Isaiah and the yearning of Paul, the extravagance of Mary would come as naturally as breath itself. TVO