Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

One day when I was quite young, a friend of my grandmother’s observed me snuggling up to her and remarked, “That child sure does love you, Gertrude.”  My grandmother smiled and said, “Of course she does.  She can’t help it, because I love her so very much!” 

Love begets love.  Young children in particular are sponges for love, and they return love many times over.  Have you ever stepped into a preschool classroom and happened to smile at a child across the room?  Such a small gesture just might bring you a hug or a gift of just-finished art—“See, I made this just for you!”—from a child you don’t even know.  Just a small act—a smile—and what a return!  You, the adult, get more than you give.  In the words of the old hymn, “How can I keep from singing!” 

The contagious effect of kindness and love affects even world-weary adults.  Someone I know has a personal mission of…well, let’s call it spreading joy—with a smile, a handshake or pat on the back, a good word—to church friends, coworkers, store clerks—because she sees how much better a day goes when people are treated nicely—when they’re given the gift of kindness freely, unexpectedly.

In cynical moments, we may believe that everyone has an agenda—that people give only in order to get something back.  Yet beyond all our desires to be appreciated, rewarded, acknowledged—there is in us a pure desire to give joy to another, sometimes out of gratitude for what’s been given to us.  Mary Cosby writes,

I need to love something so desperately

that the love of it will cast out every fear.

A lot of us know about that kind of love. For something, some cause,

some combination of wonder that is happening-

-to love it so desperately that you move right into it

and there is no fear because your love is so great.

The highest love is that of the Lord himself.

That love can be so focused, so deep, so intense

and so related to the call of God

that even when I know I'm not "safe" in the surface sense,

being faithful to that call I know I'm safe.

I know that all things are working together for good

for those who are called according to [God’s] purpose.  

Poor Judas.  He didn’t understand love, and so, he couldn’t appreciate Mary’s generous spirit—her impulse to shower beauty as a reflection of God’s glory.  He kept a tight fist on the money Jesus and the other disciples entrusted to him, and he kept a tight fist on his heart.  He couldn’t (or wouldn’t) open either one, out of compassion or even gratitude.

It’s true, of course, that the money—a year’s income for many folks in first century Palestine—could have been used to help the poor.  It’s true there are needs everywhere we look: in Alamance and Guilford Counties, where, with plant closings and job layoffs, unemployment is 13% and the lines grow longer at Good Shepherd Kitchen and Greensboro Urban Ministries  Night Shelter; and in many third-world countries, where people starve to death.  The need for help is always present, and it’s overwhelming.  How dare we waste resources when so many people need them?

On the other hand, could we ever place a value on the cross of Christ—on Christ himself, who is the way we can be reconciled to God—who is the way to eternal life?

Mary didn’t calculate the cost of her perfume against the needs of the poor.  Like a child in her joyful response to Jesus’ love, her heart overflowed with love for him—her friend, her teacher, the one who returned her brother Lazarus to her from the tomb.  Her love swept her into a moment of pure giving—of pure worship.

The Preacher of Ecclesiastes tells us there’s a time for everything: a time to be born, and a time to die; …  a time to weep, and a time to laugh; … a time to keep, and a time to throw away….   For Jesus, the time to die was fast approaching.  Had he, in the time he spent on earth, managed to get God’s message of love and forgiveness across to the people?  His final teaching opportunity would be a few days later, in Jerusalem where he washed the feet of his disciples as an expression of his love for them, and as a model of how they were to treat others. 

That day in Bethany, Mary didn’t have to be told.  She fulfilled his command to love as if by instinct, even before he gave it.  For Mary, the time to keep her treasure was past, and the time had come to throw it away, lavishly, extravagantly, recklessly, in the eyes of those who saw only its monetary value.  According to Mary’s way of doing the math, the perfume wasn’t wasted.  It was a thank-offering to Jesus, who had given her a glimpse of new life by receiving her as a disciple, and who had given back to her the life of her beloved brother.  Yes, her sweet-smelling perfume was well-spent.  She would have given much more to say thanks for the sweetness Jesus brought to her life.

And we?  How do we give thanks for all God’s given us: sunshine and rain and flowers—animals and birds and fish—trees and stars and rainbows—knowledge and the ability to use it—prophets and miracles and children … and one another—and love, in the human form of Jesus Christ, God’s son?

In worship, we come to meet God and to praise God.  It’s not about what we get, although those of us who plan worship services do hope that the music, the sermons, the prayers, the celebration of the sacraments will inspire you—uplift you—move you to action, to follow Jesus.   But the primary purpose of worship is to celebrate and honor and adore God as does the psalmist (126: 2-3) who celebrates this way: our mouth was filled with laughter and our tongue with shouts of joy. … The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoice!

When we worship with that attitude, showering God with song, dance, poetry, art, flowers—we are honoring God with what flows from our hearts.  Weeping tears of sadness or gratitude—stirred in heart, mind, soul, and body—filling the room with songs and Amen’s and Alleluia’s, we truly return thanks.

Mary confronts us with the immoderate, creative, extravagant nature of true worship.  Unafraid to let her hair down—literally—she pours out beauty with love, even in the face of death. 

When Jesus was asked which commandment is the first of all, he answered, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength—and your neighbor as yourself.  Yes, we will always have the poor among us.  The prophets tell us to give justice to the widow and orphan.  Jesus tells us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit those in prison.  We can worship God and care for the needy without compromising either command, if we can open our hearts to God’s extravagant love for us.  May we be like children: sponges to soak up his love, and in thanksgiving, ready to pour out the love we’ve been given to any who have need. 

Were the whole world of nature mine, That were a present far too small.

Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.