John 13:34-35
On the night Jesus was betrayed, he washed the disciples’ feet, identified Judas as his betrayer, and gave them a new commandment about love. The command to love each other as he loved them comes at an interesting moment in the Gospel story. After washing their feet, Jesus’ betrayer leaves the room to sell him for money, and after giving the command, Peter’s forthcoming denial is revealed. The command to love each other with God’s unique kind of love is sandwiched between satanic betrayal and the denial that comes from well intentioned, but ultimately frail, humanity. Christ’s love is never seen so clearly as when the background is so dark.
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (vs. 34-35)
In one sense, there is nothing new about this command. The Old Testament tells us that we are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:34). During his life with the disciples, Jesus repeated these commands in what we sometimes call the Greatest Commandment – we ought to love God with everything we have and love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). So, if there is nothing new about God commanding his people to be people of love, what is so new about this commandment to love?
First of all, the context becomes the standard. The cross is looming just ahead of Jesus: he is distressed and troubled by all that will befall him in the next 24 hours, including both the physical torture and the betrayal and denial of beloved friends. This is God in flesh being betrayed by a friend, and yet Jesus washed his feet and served him bread. Up to the last minute before Satan enters Judas and Judas leaves the room for good, Jesus reaches out to him in love. This is God in flesh surrounded by well-meaning disciples but frail humans who nonetheless are going to fall before they rise again to become his church. And in it all Jesus places his kingdom in their hands. When there seems to be no good reason for Jesus to love his disciples or command love one to another – on a night as dark as this – Jesus commands love. The cross becomes the standard.
Second, the person becomes the standard. This is not human love. This is not human love to the maximum sustained over a long period of time. This is not “true love.” This is nothing any human or any group of humans can muster or imitate, because it is a love that comes from the heart of God himself. Jesus is clear just hours before he will die on the cross for them that he alone is the standard for this love: “just as I have loved you.” Jesus must become our example of and source of love.
And finally, the disciples become the bearers of this love. John the disciple said in one of his epistles, “Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11). Jesus has ascended into the heavens and we are now the love of God to this world and to each other. If we follow his example, we are marked by our love – we are distinguished and recognized by our love. We are not recognized just as good people or perpetual do-gooders. We are recognized as people who belong to this Jesus Christ.
This command to love is utterly unique in that the cross becomes the standard, the person Jesus becomes the standard, and we the disciples are becoming the examples here and now of this love.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
An Extravagant Act of Worship
John 12:1-8
At the very beginning of the Passion Week, Jesus enjoyed a private moment with his friends and disciples. Jesus returned to Bethany, just outside of Jerusalem, and reclined at the table with Lazarus, recently raised from the dead. Getting ready to eat a meal together we have a man who just walked out of a grave and a man on his way there. But during this time, something both shocking and prophetic happened. Mary opened a bottle of extremely expensive perfume and anointed Jesus’ feet with it. Her act, which is an act of worship, as shocking and extravagant as it is, is something we need to learn to do.
There is a lot to learn about the act, the ointment and the reaction. The act is unusual, extravagant and even uncomfortable. Feet were usually washed by servants and not the lady of the house, and they were always washed with water, not perfume. Too add to the uniqueness of the moment, Mary lets her hair down in a display reserved for the intimacy of husband and wife and wipes his feet clean. With all that it is, Mary’s act is one of service, submission and ultimately, of worship.
Even the perfume tells us something. That type of perfume would have been rare in her world, as it (“spikenard”) comes from a plant that grows in the mountains in India. And Judas is good enough to tell us it is worth about “300 denari,” or what would have been an entire year’s wages for the average worker of the day. The perfume is rare, likely a family heirloom, and very expensive.
In this act of worship, Mary literally pours out the best of what she has on Jesus. In her act we see that there is nothing not worth “pouring out” on Jesus. The perfume became practically useless as it soaked into the ground, but it served the greater purpose of anointing Jesus’ feet as an act of worship for a Messiah on his way to the cross (12:7).
The act and the ointment tell us something. The complaint is probably even more instructive. At this moment of extravagant worship and service Judas breaks in with a complaint wrapped in pious practicality. The perfume was rare and expensive and now soaking into the dirt. Imagine the number of meals we could have purchased for the poor! But in retrospect, John makes sure we know that Judas was not being genuine – his was a corrupt heart that cared nothing for the poor, and would have liked the sound of 300 coins ringing in the money bag.
Because of the corruption of his heart, Judas mistook an extravagant yet appropriate act of worship for a waste. Without putting it into these exact words he responded to Mary by saying, “Jesus may be worth a lot, but not that much!” For Mary, there was nothing else she could have done with the perfume that was worth more than pouring it out on Jesus. For Judas, worshiping Jesus was a thing to be limited; there were things and objects in this world worth more than he was.
Here is where the story becomes hard for us: Mary is the example, Judas is me. I need to learn to worship Jesus the way Mary did – nothing in my life has greater value than when I pour it out on him. But more likely than not, my day-to-day decisions betray a different point of view. Have I learned to squeeze worship into the other “nice” things I do? Are there things in my life too valuable to me to pour them out on Jesus?
If Mary had decided to save the perfume for herself, this moment would never have come to us. But because she worshiped Jesus with it her act has served as an example for centuries of believers. If I keep my best for me and their normally “practical” purposes, nothing of eternal value may come of them. But if I pour them out in extravagant acts of worship, what can God make of them?
At the very beginning of the Passion Week, Jesus enjoyed a private moment with his friends and disciples. Jesus returned to Bethany, just outside of Jerusalem, and reclined at the table with Lazarus, recently raised from the dead. Getting ready to eat a meal together we have a man who just walked out of a grave and a man on his way there. But during this time, something both shocking and prophetic happened. Mary opened a bottle of extremely expensive perfume and anointed Jesus’ feet with it. Her act, which is an act of worship, as shocking and extravagant as it is, is something we need to learn to do.
There is a lot to learn about the act, the ointment and the reaction. The act is unusual, extravagant and even uncomfortable. Feet were usually washed by servants and not the lady of the house, and they were always washed with water, not perfume. Too add to the uniqueness of the moment, Mary lets her hair down in a display reserved for the intimacy of husband and wife and wipes his feet clean. With all that it is, Mary’s act is one of service, submission and ultimately, of worship.
Even the perfume tells us something. That type of perfume would have been rare in her world, as it (“spikenard”) comes from a plant that grows in the mountains in India. And Judas is good enough to tell us it is worth about “300 denari,” or what would have been an entire year’s wages for the average worker of the day. The perfume is rare, likely a family heirloom, and very expensive.
In this act of worship, Mary literally pours out the best of what she has on Jesus. In her act we see that there is nothing not worth “pouring out” on Jesus. The perfume became practically useless as it soaked into the ground, but it served the greater purpose of anointing Jesus’ feet as an act of worship for a Messiah on his way to the cross (12:7).
The act and the ointment tell us something. The complaint is probably even more instructive. At this moment of extravagant worship and service Judas breaks in with a complaint wrapped in pious practicality. The perfume was rare and expensive and now soaking into the dirt. Imagine the number of meals we could have purchased for the poor! But in retrospect, John makes sure we know that Judas was not being genuine – his was a corrupt heart that cared nothing for the poor, and would have liked the sound of 300 coins ringing in the money bag.
Because of the corruption of his heart, Judas mistook an extravagant yet appropriate act of worship for a waste. Without putting it into these exact words he responded to Mary by saying, “Jesus may be worth a lot, but not that much!” For Mary, there was nothing else she could have done with the perfume that was worth more than pouring it out on Jesus. For Judas, worshiping Jesus was a thing to be limited; there were things and objects in this world worth more than he was.
Here is where the story becomes hard for us: Mary is the example, Judas is me. I need to learn to worship Jesus the way Mary did – nothing in my life has greater value than when I pour it out on him. But more likely than not, my day-to-day decisions betray a different point of view. Have I learned to squeeze worship into the other “nice” things I do? Are there things in my life too valuable to me to pour them out on Jesus?
If Mary had decided to save the perfume for herself, this moment would never have come to us. But because she worshiped Jesus with it her act has served as an example for centuries of believers. If I keep my best for me and their normally “practical” purposes, nothing of eternal value may come of them. But if I pour them out in extravagant acts of worship, what can God make of them?
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