Broadway Christian Church ·Columbia, Missouri

Morning Worship ·March 20, 2005

The Sixth Sunday of Lent

Prayer of the Day

God of beginnings and endings, we are your companions this week as we travel to the cross with Jesus and beyond.  We offer you our attention to the events ahead, and we offer you our intention to be followers of Christ.  Amen.

Scripture
Matthew 26:1-13

When Jesus had finished teaching, he said to his disciples, “You know that after two days the Passover is coming, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”

Then the chief priests and the elders of the people gathered in the palace of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas, and they conspired to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him.  But they said, “Not during the Festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar, a very costly ointment, and she poured it on his head as he sat at the table.  But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said, “Why this waste?  For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum and the money given to the poor.”

But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman?  She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me.  By pouring this ointment on my body, she has prepared me for burial.  Truly, I tell you, wherever this good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Message
Endings
Kim Ryan

Several weeks ago I preached a sermon that included the Scripture and the thoughts about beginnings.  The beginning of Jesus’ ministry, the foundation for this beginning in his baptism and in God’s affirmation, “You are God’s beloved.”  And our foundation in that same affirmation from God, “You are my beloved.”

Several weeks ago, it was the beginning of Lent, the season of reflection and anticipation as we come closer to the cross.  Today we begin the last week of Lent.  Today our Scripture leads us to consider, not beginnings, but endings.  We are in the last week of Jesus’ life as events twist and turn toward the cross. 

Now wouldn’t we rather just leap-frog from point A – Jesus coming into Jerusalem in a parade of affirmation and enthusiasm – and land on point Z – Easter morning?  I would rather do that!  But in between those two celebrations, between A and Z, are points B, and C, and M, and N, and X, and Y.  Between A and Z are poignant and painful moments, moments of confusion, of betrayal, tension, dismay, fear, even terror, surrender, agony, tears, and grief.  Moments of ending… Do you know those kinds of moments?

During that last week, Jesus comes into Jerusalem.  He preaches.  He teaches.  He eats meals with friends.  All seemingly harmless activities.  Right?

Not right!  He comes into Jerusalem a hero, but not in a Pope-mobile with lots of police protection.  He comes into Jerusalem on a donkey, revisiting an Old Testament symbol of meekness, and humility, and vulnerability.  This is in opposition to an image of a hero of power, of might, of military strength, and violence.  He portrays a vivid visual language reminding his followers and his enemies what the prophets said.  The Messiah would be a Messiah of compassion.  The Messiah would be a Messiah of servanthood and even suffering, not a warrior.

His preaching and his teaching challenges.  It confronts.  It raises the eyebrows and the hair on the back of the necks of the religious authority.  And he knows.  He senses the end is nearing, and in the night in which we encounter him from our Scripture, he is eating in the home of a leper, of all people.  He is breaking every religious taboo possible. 

Picture that time with me, if you would.  Imagine a large room, large enough for many to be gathered around low tables, as was the custom.  Extra tables were brought into the space.  It is rather crowded, and the pillows and the cushions have been gathered from all over the house, so they can sit around those tables, and the guests can be accommodated.  Picture Simon the Leper, an outcast of society, but host to those gathered.  Perhaps Simon’s family is there.  Servants are there bringing food and wine into the tables.  Hear the pockets of conversation taking place all around, between friends and acquaintances.  There’s a little politics here: “Can you believe that Roman tax hike?  And what about the price of gas?”  Hear the latest news there: “Did you hear about Jesus raising Lazarus?  And what about Ashley Smith reading from the Purpose-Driven Life to a convicted, escaped killer?”  Listen to the talk about the hustle and bustle of the city at this holiday time of Passover that nears.  Hear the conversations trying to measure and understand the rising tension and the expectations around Jesus.  Experience the hopes, the excitement.  Smell the aroma of food.  It’s on the table inviting them to enjoy.  But there is another smell present, sort of clinging around the edges of the room.  Do you smell it?  It’s the smell of fear.  It’s the smell of uncertainty.

Then a woman enters.  She approaches Jesus holding a beautiful jar.  No one notices her at first.  Her eyes meet Jesus’ eyes.  He nods, and she walks to stand behind him.  The conversations begin to cease as those in the room begin to take notice of her.  Then the room becomes silent as she opens the jar and as she pours the ointment over Jesus’ head.  Its exquisite smell of perfume slowly fills up that room, taking the place of the conversations that have just been happening.  I imagine tears in her eyes.  I imagine a tear mingling down Jesus’ cheek with the ointment as it trickles down his face.  I imagine him reaching for her hand in appreciation.  For a moment times stands still.  She has tenderly anointed Jesus for his burial.  She has tended to his deepest need in that moment.  She has anointed Jesus as Messiah.  Rather than with a crown, she anoints, not only the man, but also the message he has brought, his teaching, his preaching, his life.  For a moment she stands with him in understanding, and she truly sees him, and she truly hears him, and she truly is his companion – the one who comes along side.  Imagine what a relief it must have been to him.  Here is someone who recognizes this ending time in his life, and she does what she can for a moment.

Then the grumbling begins.  The disciples are blind to that moment, unable to see, perhaps not wanting to see, not willing to see the power of her action.  They do what any of us do in moments when we are uncomfortable.  They change the subject.  “Well, what a waste of money.  That could have been sold.  That ointment could have been sold for a lot of money, and that money could have been given to the poor.”

WWJD – What Would Jesus Do?

Well, Jesus silences them.  “The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me.  Wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her,” he says.

And then the moment passes, and the week continues step by step by step to the cross.

So, did you remember her?  Wherever the gospel – the good news – has been told.  Did you remember her story as a part of this week, a part of Jesus’ story?  Perhaps.  Perhaps you do remember her story as you have heard it in years past.  Or perhaps you have never heard her story before.  Perhaps today is the first time you have seen her, really seen her.  Perhaps this is the first time you have seen this wise and tender companion of Jesus, this brave woman, who stood with him.

I imagine her as one of the women at the crucifixion who will stand with the other women and watch.  I imagine her tear-filled eyes meeting Jesus’ tear-filled eyes from the cross.  I imagine he nods to her in appreciation.

You know… Often during this last week of Jesus’ life – a week the Church calls “Holy Week,” – we are asked to see ourselves in a variety of ways in this story.  We are asked to see ourselves in the fickle crowd singing “Hosannas,” and less than a week later crying, “Crucify him!”  We are sometimes asked to identify with Judas betraying Jesus for a few coins and trying to make Jesus into who he wanted him to be.  And sometimes we are asked to see ourselves as Peter – Peter who denied Jesus and his relationship with him – or to see ourselves as the frightened disciples who run away.

All of those are worthy of consideration.  But today I invite us, in this week of endings, to let ourselves imagine and attempt to see ourselves in this woman, as a companion with Jesus.  Can we picture ourselves understanding, really hearing his message for our life and for the world, recognizing his vulnerability and his strength to the end?  Can we see ourselves, tender and brave in an ending time, and tending to his deepest need?  Of course, one of the most radical things Jesus is remembered as having said is that,  “if you tend to the least of these, you tend to me.”

I have come to believe that being a follower of Jesus is being willing to feel his heartache in and for this world, and to tend to that deepest need the best that we can.

You may have an ending-time story, a companion story.  None of us seem able to get through life without at least one or two of those in our experience.  I have one I want to share with you.  It is not my story.  I am simply honored to have received that story and to have permission to share it with you this morning.

The following is based on an experience of a young man.  We will call him Steve.  He had a good friend who was in his 30s.  He was dying of cancer.  This friend of Steve’s was not a part of a faith community.  He was not a practicing Christian, and the scene is a private encounter in a hospital room just days before the friend dies.  The friend asks Steve about what he knew about death, and dying, and heaven.  Imagine how you would answer those questions.

Steve said, “Everything I have been taught about God is that you and I and all of God’s creation are important to God.  We matter.  God cares, and God always wants the best for us.  The way I look at it, God is with you, just as I am with my son when he slips and falls and hurts himself.  He becomes afraid, and I pick him up, and I hold him, and I whisper in his ear, ‘I’ve got you.  Don’t be afraid.’  I think that is what God is like.”

One of the friend’s questions was, “What is heaven like?”

Steve answers, “We don’t know much about what it is like.  We believe that wherever God is, that is where we want to be.”

The friend shared that he’d been thinking that there is no one there that he would know.  “Perhaps I’m going to be the one who gets things ready for those I love who are coming.  I can be there to greet them.  I think I have been a good person.  I have been helpful to others.  I have tried to live a good life.  Do you think that counts?”

Steve said, “The way I see it, if life is like a football field, (and his friend was an avid sports fan) and heaven is like the end zone, the reward for all our good work, then none of gets past the five-yard line.  It’s Jesus that makes it to the end zone.  It’s not so much what we have accomplished for good that counts.  It’s what is in our hearts.  That’s what counts.  God wants our hearts.  Again, you are important to God.  God wants you and wants your heart.”

Then Steve did an amazing thing.  He told him an ending story.

“There were two guys who were crucified with Jesus,” he said.  “One mocked him, but the other turned to him, and he asked Jesus, ‘Jesus, will you remember me in your Kingdom?’  And Jesus said, ‘Today you will be with me in paradise.”

“Are you asking?” Steve said to his friend.

Then they prayed together, and they asked Jesus to remember him in his Kingdom.  Steve told his friend that he loved him, and he said his good-byes.  Two days later his friend died.

Steve, in describing this encounter, will say it is one of the most meaningful times in his life.  It was so relational.  It was so personal.  And it was so spiritual.  He had never experienced anything like it.  “There was something else operating here,” he said.  “It wasn’t just me.  It wasn’t just me.  It was the power, it was the presence of the Spirit, and it was awesome.”

Interesting thing about endings… They often are beginnings, resurrections in the making.  This week, we wait for it – the resurrection.  Every week we wait for it.  Every day we wait for it.  Don’t we?

Amen.

Benediction

Companion God, when we turn to you, always you are there.  You embrace us with knowing acceptance, comfort, and hope.  Teach us this wisdom that we might be your anointing grace to one another.  Amen.