Creekside Church Sermon of April 1, 2001 "Holy Happenings" John 12: 1-8	Rev. David Bibbee
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A man purchased an old home, and one day while exploring the crannies and crevices of the attic, he found a box which didn't appear to have been opened in a very long time. Carefully he opened it, sorted through packing materials and found an old Bible. The pages were yellowed and brittle. "Couldn't be worth much," he thought to himself, so he pitched it.

Later he described the Bible to a book collector. When the collector asked the man who printed it he replied, "Let's see…it was Guten-something or other." The collector shrieked, "Gutenberg?!" "Yea, that's it!" the man said. You idiot! You threw away one of the first books ever printed! A copy just sold at auction for three million dollars!" "Maybe for a good copy," the man said. "But my copy wouldn't have brought a dime. Some guy named Martin Luther scribbled notes all over it."

Have you wondered if something valuable has ever slipped through your hands without your knowledge? Maybe it wasn't some thing. Maybe it was someone or some opportunity. In Thornton Wilder's play, "Our Town", the child Emily asks to come back from the grave to the little town of Grover's Corners. But going back was disheartening. She says to a character called the Stage Manager, "I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. See all that was going on and never noticed. Take me back to my grave, but first, wait…I want one more look. Goodbye, goodbye, world. Goodbye Grover's Corners…goodbye Mama and Papa. Goodbye to clocks ticking…and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee and a new ironed dress and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anyone to realize you." Like a line from a best-selling song by Joni Mitchell, "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone."

"We look but do not perceive. We listen but do not understand." This is the picture we have of the people who encounter Jesus in the gospel of John, and in them we find ourselves. John is a gospel about people who do not get it. When Jesus speaks and acts, it is double-layered. The top layer is the event itself, but there is another deeper of layer of meaning to be learned, and this is precisely what Mary does in today's lesson in an act of adoration and extravagance. What she saw and the others didn't, was a holy happening.

Jesus was back in Bethany in the home of his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Jesus had come for one of Martha's home cooked meals with made from scratch biscuits. But this wasn't a typical dinner party. For starters, there sat Lazarus passing the peas. Days before people had come to a funeral dinner. His funeral dinner! Now he sat at the table, alive with a good appetite, raised by Jesus from the dead.

When Jesus had come to their house the last time, Martha was slaving in the kitchen while Mary sat at Jesus' feet. Today Martha is back in the kitchen busy as ever preparing to serve dinner. Meanwhile, Mary is again at Jesus' feet, but not just to listen. The guests had hardly been seated when Mary appeared with a flask of perfume which she poured over Jesus' feet. The perfume was very expensive. Nearly an entire year's wages. Think for a moment of what you could do if you had a year's salary to spend. Then, as if this wasn't enough, she let down her hair to wipe Jesus' feet. This isn't something a woman would do, not a nice woman, anyway. For a woman to let her hair down in public was an erotically provocative act. But it didn't matter to Mary as much as her outpouring of love for all Jesus had done in her life.

There is a kind of person that doesn't exist…a tightwad Christian. When Christ is given access to a life; when someone is committed to following him and serving the church, generosity takes root. Generosity is the litmus test of Christian authenticity.

Several years ago I was having lunch with another pastor in a neighborhood restaurant in South Bend. We talked about our churches while we ate. Later the waitress gave us our checks as she did the man seated by himself at the table next to us. We continued talking, then the man stood, placed his hand over our checks, and in a soft, voice asked, "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to pay for your meals?" Ken and I looked at each other with surprise. It's not every day that a stranger asks to pick up the tab. I thought to myself, "Who am I to deny this man's request?" So on cue we replied, "Sure!" He declined our invitation to sit and talk.

We stayed awhile and then went into the parking lot where we saw the man at a pay phone. We watched him walk toward the only two cars on one side of the lot. One was a silver Mercedes Benz. The other was a rusted Ford pick-up with bumper stickers on the tailgate that read, "My boss is a Jewish Carpenter," and "Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven." "Which one is his?" I asked. We watched him walk between the vehicles, pull out his keys and get into…the pick-up.

It's been a constant ever since Jesus drew the disciple's attention to the poor widow placing her offering in the Temple treasury…those with little often give much.

Mary offered Jesus an extravagant gift, knowing the extravagant thing Jesus soon would do would be far greater. But no one at the table got the significance of Mary's act. The holiness of it skipped right on by. But it didn't stop them from criticizing Mary. Judas spoke up. Where did he come from? It's reasonable to assume that since he was there, the other disciples were also there bringing up objections like…like we would have made.

"Mary, do you know we could have built a Habitat for Humanity house for what that perfume cost? The money should have been put to use doing some good for the poor. How many Church World Service blankets would a year's wages buy?" Knowing what we do about Jesus' concern for the poor and hungry, we know what he should have said. "Well Judas, I…uh…suppose you're right." "That'll be enough of that, Mary. Take that perfume back to Marshall Fields and use the refund to stock the shelves at the city mission food pantry."

What he said instead was, "Leave Mary alone. She bought it for my funeral. You will always have the poor to take care of, but you won't always have me." Mary's act of adoration was a response to all he had given her.

But this is more than a story of generosity. There is another layer, and that is what awaited Jesus in Jerusalem.

There sat Lazarus who had died and was raised to life. There was Jesus who would soon die and be raised to life. It was Jesus' last dinner with his friends. Soon he would share the last supper with his disciples. Mary anointed Jesus' feet. Jesus washed the disciples feet. But why did Mary anoint his feet? The only time feet were anointed was before burial. This was a holy moment, but all the disciples saw was money dripping off Jesus' feet to the floor. The house was full of fragrant foolishness and waste. There was Mary with her hair indecently exposed. What a mess!

With the exception of Mary, no one perceived the holiness of the moment. It's remarkable when people observe the same event and come away with very different responses. Jesus once healed 10 lepers, but only one saw the significance of it and returned to thank him. Two people, seated side by side in worship listen to a moving choral anthem. One hears a piece of music. The other feels the brush of an angel's wing. There are holy happenings all around that we miss or dismiss.

A holy moment isn't usually a euphoric moment. Holy moments are not always happy moments. The holiness of Mary's lavish act was a preview of dark days ahead. Sometimes the holiest moments are a thick mix of pain and promise; life and death.

Mae Tasher was 94 years old and suffered from Alzheimer's. She no longer knew her family. As far as anyone could tell, she was never in the present. She sat in a wheelchair most of the day mumbling nonsense to herself. Her long, silver hair stuck out every which way. Her eyes always had a lost look. It was hard to visit Mae. I often left asking myself, "What's the point? My presence doesn't even register." Then came a surprise. I closed my visit with a prayer that included the 23rd Psalm, and as I recited it, I heard two voices. Mae knew it word for word. What I thought was wasted time became a sacred moment. Each visit I made afterward went the same. No connections till the end when I would say, "I'm going now, Mae. Do you remember what we do?" All I had to say, "The Lord is…" and every time she continued, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…"

Those visits were sad, given her deteriorating condition, but one connection remained…her love of the Lord. Maybe the "Mary-like" thing I should have done was take off my shoes when the psalm was spoken, because I was on holy ground.

Mary's expensive act of worship expressed gratitude for the gift of abundant life. It revealed that the days left to be with Jesus were few. Painful and poignant things were coming. Jesus' accuser's "final solution." The last supper. Betrayal in the garden. Denial in the courtyard. Mocking soldiers. Scourging. The cross. Suffering. Feeling forsaken by God. Words of forgiveness. Promises of paradise. Death. Grief. Easter surprise. Lives that would never be the same. Holy happenings everywhere.

Those who know the price Christ paid to have them, are those who know a holy moment when they see it. Their hearts are filled with generosity and they're willing to pour out their costly perfume of love.

At age 75, Don Beattie had been a merchant marine, an amateur boxer, and during the second half of his life a published poet. His last month was lived on a respirator at the St. Joe Med Center. The doctors met with his wife and told her Don couldn't live off the respirator. His wife Ruby had crippling arthritis all her life, and needed the assistance of a walker and a strong arm just to move at a snail's pace. With two nurses supporting her, Ruby stood on a stool to make eye contact with Don. "Honey, do you want to be taken off the machine?" He had a trach and couldn't speak, but he nodded a definite yes. The tube was removed and they exchanged loving, tearful goodbyes and the faith that they would be together again.

It was too much for Ruby to stay, so she asked me to remain with Don until the end. His eyes were open and he remained aware 27 of his last 30 minutes. As I looked at Don, I could see the monitor behind him charting his vitals. The peaks and valleys grew further apart and were flattening. While I spoke to him, recited scriptures and prayed, a young intensive-care nurse quietly charted his numbers and listened to his pulse. She didn't say a word, just stayed on task. I discovered later that this was her first day in the intensive care unit.

I was becoming very emotional. My voice kept breaking. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw her put down the clipboard. She stood across the bed holding Don's hand. A tear was flowing down her cheek, then she softly prayed a brief, beautiful prayer, and it was over. The nurse became a chaplain and blessed Don and me. He closed his eyes.

Those of you who have been with the dying know there is what has been called, "the death smell." But that is not the aroma I remember that day. The room seemed filled with the sweet fragrance of perfume.

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