In what is often referred to as his ‘Sermon on the Mount’ Jesus said: “Wherever your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).
In today’s text, we see this lived out in two very different ways. Jesus had come to the home of Mary and Martha in Bethany, as the guest of honour for dinner. Mary and Martha are first introduced to us in chapter 11, where they met Jesus at the outskirts of Bethany, grieving over their brother Lazarus who had died. But even though Lazarus had been dead in the tomb for four days, Jesus effortlessly raised him, calling to him: “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43).
Now Lazarus is with Jesus at the dinner table in the family home. What an astonishing sight that would have been—Lazarus, the dearly loved brother of Mary and Martha, once dead, now alive, reclining at the table, eating and drinking!!!
Then, another astonishing sight: Mary pours perfumed ointment on the feet of Jesus and wipes his feet with her hair. This seems a bizarre act; one we may even feel uncomfortable about. But this action itself doesn’t seem to trouble the others in our text—perhaps because the cultural etiquette of the day was to bathe the feet of guests, and even apply some perfumed oil afterwards[1]. What is uncomfortable and alarming about this—at least for Judas—is Mary’s extravagance.
The ointment that Mary applied to Jesus’ feet was an incredibly expensive perfumed lotion from the Spikenard plant, and the pint that Mary had was worth around 300 denarii—virtually the equivalent of an average year’s wage. A year’s salary—poured out on someone’s feet! This seems completely excessive, and perhaps Judas’ thinking that doing such a thing is a waste and that the ointment could be better sold with the proceeds donated to helping the poor is understandable.
So why did Mary do this—which seems all the more bizarre with her act of wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair?
The context of this taking place six days before the Passover; the night on which Jesus was betrayed, is central to understanding. In Jesus’ defence of Mary’s action we hear a reason more specific than the general foot-washing of guests: “Leave her alone, she has reserved it for the day of my burial.” This was a beautiful act of devotion by Mary to her Lord, and it is a confession of faith in what is to come for him. In the ancient world, bodies of the deceased were prepared for burial by washing and anointing with a combination of spices and perfumed oils. Mary knew that Jesus was soon going to his death and so at this point Mary anointed the feet of Jesus that would walk to the Cross.
Mary shows where her treasure is, and where her heart is also. Mary spares no expense in this deed of highest devotion, confessing by her actions that only the best is worthy for Jesus. Her action of breaking open the container and pouring out its contents are symbolic of her opening her heart and pouring it out before her Lord. It shows the place of prominence that Jesus has in her life, and how she treasures in her heart his ministry of grace. For Mary, Jesus and his saving work have a value that far surpass the things of this world, and she is not concerned with accumulating earthly riches, but giving them away in service of her Lord.
Mary’s deed of anointing Jesus’ feet was also one of great humility—and a great example for all men and women alike to follow. In Jewish culture, a woman’s hair was regarded as her crowning glory. And so in her anointing of Jesus’ feet, Mary took the lowest possible place, stooping to ground level, and used her crowning glory, her honour, to dry her King’s feet—honouring Jesus above herself with all that she had.
Mary had performed an act of extravagant devotion in gratitude for Jesus’ extravagant love of her. This all stands in stark contrast to the complacency many have today, that what matters is merely mental belief in Jesus, and any commitment or devotion is unnecessary. While we are saved by faith alone, true faith will be confessed before others and gladly show itself in works of love and service, thus revealing where our treasure is—for where our treasure is, there our heart is also.
In the text we also see where Judas’ heart is. Judas objected to this extravagant use of ointment, not because he was concerned about the poor, but because he was a thief, and, having charge of the money bag he used to help himself to what was in it. All that Judas was really concerned about was the opportunity he would miss out on to line his own pockets! Unlike Mary, whose eyes are fixed on Jesus, Judas’ eyes are fixed on money. Judas has turned far away from Christ and he’s about to show just how far: in six days’ time he would betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver to carry out the Jewish ruling council’s plans to do away with Jesus.
In the actions of both Mary’s extravagance and Judas’ objection to it, we see how true Jesus’ words are: “Where your treasure is there your heart will be also.”
It’s appropriate now to reflect on this reading in the context of our own life. What if the room of Mary and Martha’s house at Bethany was a picture of our heart? What would we see when the curtain was drawn aside and we peered in?
What would God see?
Would we see joyful devotion, like Mary’s, to give God our very best; our most costly gifts? Or would we find resentment over the use of money and resources in the service of Jesus and his church? In what ways is Judas’ resentment of Jesus our own? Would we see a willingness to spend our time at Jesus’ feet, or instead invest our time into erecting barriers of self-justifications for not doing so? Would we see a servant heart, or would we see our pride swallowing up the call to humility?
Mary’s act of anointing Jesus’ feet is a glimpse of God’s own extravagant devotion to us. God didn’t worry about the personal cost to him in saving the world from the grip of Satan, the gates of hell, and bondage to sin and death. God didn’t just casually give us his leftovers, or even a reasonable portion of his mercy and favour.
But God poured out all the riches he had, when he sent his one and only Son into the world. It was Jesus who took the lowest place. It was Jesus who showed true humility by washing the feet of his disciples on the night of his betrayal. He humbled himself, and was obedient unto death, even death on a Cross—the most brutal and publicly shameful execution possible—for you. There on the Cross, like the container of perfumed ointment that Mary broke open, it was Jesus himself who was broken; his side torn open by a soldier’s spear, and the flow of blood and water that poured out cleansed the world from the filth and stench of its sin.
God brought that cleansing to you personally when he claimed your heart in baptism and cleansed it with pure water, purifying you from all your sin, guilt, shame and unrighteousness. He anointed you with the Holy Spirit to be his holy priests in the world—who although can no longer anoint the body of Jesus for his burial, are still called to proclaim Jesus’ death until he comes.
What do you treasure in your heart? Are there things you would gladly pour out in public view? Or is that which you treasure too shameful for others to see? What does your heart cling to? That is what you treasure. Is that which you treasure, and Jesus, the same thing?
In his Large Catechism explanation on the First Commandment, Luther said:
“That to which your heart clings and entrusts itself is, I say, really your God.
The purpose of this commandment, therefore, is to require true faith and confidence of the heart, and these fly straight to the one true God and cling to him alone. The meaning is: “See to it that you let me alone be your God, and never seek another.” In other words: “Whatever good thing you lack, look to me for it and seek it from me, and whenever you suffer misfortune and distress, come and cling to me. I am the one who will satisfy you and help you out of every need. Only let your heart cling to no one else.”[2]
Lent is a time for new hearts—and a time for constantly renewed hearts. Just as Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead by calling him forth from the tomb, Jesus has called you from death and darkness into his kingdom of light and life. He calls you to make use of his word and sacraments, not so that we think of these as good works or boxes to tick—how many times we come to worship, or how good we are at getting the right answers in a bible study. They aren’t God’s reasons for coming.
God’s reason for us coming is simply that we be in the room with Jesus, so that we can meet with him and receive the blessing he would pour out upon us. Whenever you gather around the word you meet with Jesus. He fills the room with the sweet fragrance of his gospel to bring you grace and peace, freedom and hope, shaping our hearts to be more like his, not insisting on our own way, or concerned with what we are missing out on as we serve others. And whenever you come to his table, Jesus welcomes you as his guest of honour, pouring out his own life into your life, cleansing our hearts with his blood, strengthening us to put to death the Judas in us, and pour out our lives in loving service as he has first done for us.
There are so many things we can be preoccupied with and consumed by in our lives, trying to control, secure, order and organise life itself. But meeting with Jesus and devoting ourselves to him is the one thing important. That is the very reason why God has planted St Paul’s here, and why he has gathered you here. May we always see Jesus as the most extravagant gift God our Father has poured out from Heaven upon us. May we always desire to meet with Jesus so that we receive the most precious treasure of his ministry of grace through his word and sacraments. Amen.
[1] https://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/1559-anointing
[2] Tappert, T. G. (Ed.). (1959). The Book of Concord the confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church. (p. 365). Philadelphia: Mühlenberg Press.
