'While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head. Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly.
'“Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”' (Mark 14:3-9)
NOTES:
[Thumbnail image cc from pxhere.]
'“Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”' (Mark 14:3-9)
MEMO
Do not break this thing,
Do not waste that;
Do not let down your hair and weep and make a scene.
Do not keep bothering the teacher,
No more crying-out,
No reaching out with unclean hands;
Do not come here now needing to be healed,
Nor bring the children near,
Nor hang around expecting to be fed.
Do not work wonders without clearance,
Neither turn away on pain of fire.
Do not let the moment of our glory pass!
And do not speak to us of death,
No more is there a need for grief;
Do not bring your emotional excesses here.
Do not be stumbled-on in anguish on the toilet floor.
Do not sit silent in the singing,
Nor devalue the production in your fervour,
Neither interrupt the speaker;
Do not cause discomfort with your lack of certainty.
Do not expose our lack of clarity;
Do not defy our categories;
Do not fail to leave your "lifestyle" at the door if necessary.
Do not ask for us to rearrange the furniture,
Nor yet the program for you.
No more calling-out,
And do not make your woundedness our problem.
Do not threaten our ordained position.
Carolyn Whitnall, 2019.
All four canonical gospels contain accounts of women interrupting meals to lavish expensive perfume and/or tears on Jesus' feet and/or head. Whether these are different angles on the same single event or (as is my read) in fact describe two or more distinct occasions, the by-standing male disciples and religious authority figures are consistent in their haste to manage the situation: "Why this waste?" (Matt 26:8); “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is..." (Luke 7:39) And Jesus is consistent in his glad receipt of the gesture and his exuberant commendation of the woman/women making it: "She has done a beautiful thing to me [...] what she has done will also be told, in memory of her" (Mark 9:6,9); "You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair [...] her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown" (Luke 7:44,47).
Such keenness by those around Jesus to keep things on respectable, sensible, comprehensible and strategically optimal terms strikes me as a recurring theme throughout the stories of his ministry. On some occasions his own disciples even venture to tell him how to behave: "Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him..." (Matt 16:22)! But to say that Jesus is not interested in maintaining the prevailing order is something of an understatement (see, for example, the Sermon on the Mount, and his affirming and uninhibited interactions with all sorts of people marginalised according to the then status quo) – and neither is he out to further his own "best interests" by any worldly reckoning of what those might be. Nowhere is this more vividly displayed than in his death: he could have simply steered clear of Jerusalem; he could have resisted the mob that came to arrest him; he could have spoken up for himself before Pilate; he could even (I believe) have "come down from the cross" and saved himself, just as the crowds jeered that he should. Instead, defying all propriety, logic and human instinct for self-preservation, he "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; [...] And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death" (Phil 2:6,8a).
And yet still, today, we who claim to follow Jesus so often have our own clear ideas of what that should look like and how it should play out, and a keen determination to cling to order and pursue advantage as we understand them. We believe ourselves not only permitted, but duty bound to suppress any person or happening that doesn't fit our way of thinking and/or that threatens to obstruct our mission. Surely God wants us to be successful, to be seen to grow and flourish, to be proved to be right, to give a pleasing impression that appeals to the "unsaved" – production values are important, then; we need a simple takeaway message that doesn't require too much mental effort and steers away from anything unpleasant; our reputation should be protected at all costs, even if it means silencing or diminishing or discrediting the voices of those many who have been left damaged or let down by church.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD." (Isaiah 55:8). I want to suggest that our order is not God's order – especially when our order excludes people, or privileges the powerful, or facilitates abuse, or is sustained by manipulation and over-simplification, or does not hold up to honest inspection of the evidence. We fear chaos and loss and the unknown, and with sound reason because those things are hard to bear and there are no guarantees about what will follow. But Jesus faced all the chaos and loss and unknown of death – as violently inflicted by human order and in defiant resistance to that order. And his resurrection gives concrete substance to the hope that, just as God was present and active when "the earth was formless and empty" (Gen 1:2), establishing the "very good"-ness of creation, so God is present and active to bring new creation goodness out of the disruption of that unlike-any-other death. And we're invited in, it seems – only, it seems to take a dying on our part, too. "[H]ave the same mindset as Christ Jesus" (Phil 2:5b), writes Paul, before describing Jesus' utter relinquishment of control and advantage and self-interest and worldly strategising ...
Such keenness by those around Jesus to keep things on respectable, sensible, comprehensible and strategically optimal terms strikes me as a recurring theme throughout the stories of his ministry. On some occasions his own disciples even venture to tell him how to behave: "Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him..." (Matt 16:22)! But to say that Jesus is not interested in maintaining the prevailing order is something of an understatement (see, for example, the Sermon on the Mount, and his affirming and uninhibited interactions with all sorts of people marginalised according to the then status quo) – and neither is he out to further his own "best interests" by any worldly reckoning of what those might be. Nowhere is this more vividly displayed than in his death: he could have simply steered clear of Jerusalem; he could have resisted the mob that came to arrest him; he could have spoken up for himself before Pilate; he could even (I believe) have "come down from the cross" and saved himself, just as the crowds jeered that he should. Instead, defying all propriety, logic and human instinct for self-preservation, he "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; [...] And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death" (Phil 2:6,8a).
And yet still, today, we who claim to follow Jesus so often have our own clear ideas of what that should look like and how it should play out, and a keen determination to cling to order and pursue advantage as we understand them. We believe ourselves not only permitted, but duty bound to suppress any person or happening that doesn't fit our way of thinking and/or that threatens to obstruct our mission. Surely God wants us to be successful, to be seen to grow and flourish, to be proved to be right, to give a pleasing impression that appeals to the "unsaved" – production values are important, then; we need a simple takeaway message that doesn't require too much mental effort and steers away from anything unpleasant; our reputation should be protected at all costs, even if it means silencing or diminishing or discrediting the voices of those many who have been left damaged or let down by church.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD." (Isaiah 55:8). I want to suggest that our order is not God's order – especially when our order excludes people, or privileges the powerful, or facilitates abuse, or is sustained by manipulation and over-simplification, or does not hold up to honest inspection of the evidence. We fear chaos and loss and the unknown, and with sound reason because those things are hard to bear and there are no guarantees about what will follow. But Jesus faced all the chaos and loss and unknown of death – as violently inflicted by human order and in defiant resistance to that order. And his resurrection gives concrete substance to the hope that, just as God was present and active when "the earth was formless and empty" (Gen 1:2), establishing the "very good"-ness of creation, so God is present and active to bring new creation goodness out of the disruption of that unlike-any-other death. And we're invited in, it seems – only, it seems to take a dying on our part, too. "[H]ave the same mindset as Christ Jesus" (Phil 2:5b), writes Paul, before describing Jesus' utter relinquishment of control and advantage and self-interest and worldly strategising ...
NOTES:
- The poem itself was partly prompted by a poignant recent article by Kaitlin Curtice, entitled Grief hides in the church bathroom: "We are asking hard questions that many Christians are not willing to answer. Who will notice the oppressed, and who will grieve for those who came before us, for those who were abused by the church in the name of God? That day as I asked these questions, the bathroom was the safest place for me to weep."
- See also the Church Clarity project.
- Scripture references: Matt 26:6-13, Mark 14:3-9, Luke 7:36-50 and John 12:1-8; Luke 8:40-56; Matt 15:21-28; Luke 13:10-17; Matt 19:13-15; Mark 6:32-44; Luke 9:49-50; Luke 9:51-55; Mark 9:2-8; Matt 16:21-23.
[Thumbnail image cc from pxhere.]
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