Lent is winding down. Something is in the air, something is coming. Do you feel it? Holy Week is around the corner — and also the exuberance of spring. Do you have a sense of anticipation? Of something coming? Do you feel like something is about to happen?

Our texts this morning all deal with this sense of anticipation. Something is about to happen. In the Gospel, Mary seems to understand that something is about to happen. So she acts extravagantly. She anoints Jesus with perfumed oil, and then wipes up the excess with her own hair. Such lavish excess. What does it mean? She is certainly anointing Jesus for his coming death. Jesus himself says so. But she also symbolically anoints her king — outrageous in her culture, for a woman would never be allowed to anoint a king with oil. So her extravagant deed operates like a secret code — a secret anointing of a hidden king. But whatever else we say about this anointing with oil; we must acknowledge one thing at base: Mary's anointing of Jesus is an outrageous act of lavish extravagance. Mary is filled with extravagant devotion to Christ.

Why extravagant? What's so extravagant about pouring perfume on Jesus feet?

First, this was rare and costly perfume. According to Ray Brown, this ointment was made out of spikenard — a fragrant oil from the roots and spikes of the nard plant that grew only in the mountains of northern India. This was rare and exotic stuff. It was also expensive, costing three hundred denarii. A denarius was a roman silver coin worth about 20 cents. Basically one denarius was a day's wage.

300 denarii then is about a year's wage — if you subtract Sabbath days from a working year, you basically have 300 days — at a denarius a day, that's one year's salary for a regular working stiff. Translated into today's context — let's say the perfume was worth something like thirty thousand dollars — an average annual salary in the United States. So this perfume is expensive. To dump this expensive perfume on Jesus was an act of extravagant devotion to Christ.

Another reason Mary's gesture is so extravagant is that it's so sensuous. Presumably Mary is an attractive woman, and she's down on her knees caressing Jesus' feet. This behavior is very sensual, very intimate. Do you remember the great scene near the beginning of Pulp Fiction? The characters played by John Travolta and Samuel Jackson are discussing feet — more specifically a foot massage. Apparently one of their cadre has been killed because he gave a foot massage to their boss's wife. John Travolta is saying that the killing made sense — because massaging someone's feet is definitely crossing a moral line. He had a point (not about the killing, but about the crossing of a line). Massaging someone's feet, rubbing someone's feet with costly perfume — this is a very intimate and sensual act. Did Mary cross a line through her intimacy with Christ? Possibly, but at very least her intimate and sensuous act was an act of extravagant devotion to Christ.

We also see the lavish extravagance of Mary's anointing through the contrast with Judas. Witnessing Mary's extravagance, Judas says "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?" I think it's an entirely fair question. Most of us have wondered, at times, about whether it's appropriate to spend money on our churches when we're surrounded by poverty and hunger. Does Lutheran Campus Ministry really need the Rose House? Does St. Thomas Lutheran Church really need its magnificent organ and stained glass windows? Is it appropriate for the Vatican to house its massive and extravagant art collection when so many are in need? And even if we answer affirmatively, we've at least asked the question. It's pretty basic and human to wonder about this stuff. I do all the time. And even if we have learned that Judas's motive for asking was impure — after all, he'd simply steal the money for himself — even so, his question is a fair one. Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? Why indeed? But Jesus cuts through the question, praising Mary's excess. "Leave her alone" he tells Judas. "She bought it for my burial. You'll always have the poor with you, but you won't always have me." So Jesus himself seems to praise Mary's act of extravagant devotion.

And here's where things get dicey for me. I think that the Gospel text is trying to make a simple point. I think we're supposed to see that devotion to Jesus must always be an end itself — and not a means to another end. We're supposed to be devoted to Christ simply because it's the correct thing to be and do. We're not supposed to use our devotion to Jesus for another purpose. Our attachment to Jesus is the end in itself — and never a means to another end. I think that's how the contrast is set up. Mary's devotion to Jesus is simply what it is. It doesn't serve some higher purpose. Judas on the other hand is devoted to Jesus for a "higher" good — to give to the poor, to bring justice, and according to scholars, to end the Roman occupation. And if that's the case, I think that this text is implying that Judas's devotion to Christ is idolatrous and impure, but that Mary's devotion is pure, the real thing.

And that's where things get dicey. I don't know about you, but I feel rather indicted here. I don't know if my devotion to Christ has ever been pure devotion. I look at Mary and I think "extravagant." Then I look at Judas and think "hmn, he's got a point." His kind of devotion makes more sense to me than Mary's. And if I understand this text correctly, that's cause for concern.

Regarding Judas at this moment, Karl Barth has written that Judas "makes himself impossible as an apostle." "If a person does not devote himself prodigally to Jesus" says Barth, if they "consider something to good to be offered to" Christ, if they think "another purpose more important than the glorifying of" God — then that person "is as such unclean and opposed to Christ" (II.2, 462). So Judas, in using Christ as a means to another end (whether feeding the poor, or padding his pocketbook), has made it impossible for himself to be an apostle. "He must and will hand Jesus over — hand Him over to men to be crucified." It's inevitable.

As I've been reflecting on these things, I've wondered if we all don't crucify Jesus in precisely this way. Don't most of us have an agenda for God? Don't most of us come to God with an idea of what She should be doing for the world? I know I do. And perhaps at that moment, like Judas, I make it impossible for myself to be an apostle too. The purity of Mary's extravagant devotion, I fear, puts not just Judas to shame, but us too. Thank God for forgiveness and grace.

Perhaps there's another way. What if we, like Mary, approached Christ as an end in himself, rather than a means to another end. What if we laid our burdens down and approached Christ empty, with nothing but extravagant and lavish devotion. What if we came to him empty and let him tell us what to do for once — rather than us always telling God what needs to be done for us. What if devotion to God became an end itself rather than a means to another end? What then?

In the last verse from the wonderful passage from Isaiah, Yahweh says this about his people. They are "the people" Yahweh says, "whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise." God formed the people Israel so that they might declare God's praise. Perhaps that's it: the secret meaning of our lives. Maybe we too are created simply to declare God's praise. To enter into this magnificent liturgical space simply to adore and praise God — extravagantly, lavishly, foolishly. Maybe, just maybe, that's part of what it means to be an apostle: extravagant devotion to Christ.

Undoubtedly such a path will also change the world. When we become Apostles, empty people filled by God — sent into an aching world... undoubtedly the world will change. God cares more for our world than we ever could. And if we listen, I trust we'll learn what to do.

In the meantime, fulfill your purpose by declaring God's praise. Join us in our extravagant adoration of the triune God. Join us in our foolish and lavish celebration of Holy Week, hymns and high chants and songs of praise. Devote yourself to Christ in ridiculous excess as we wave our palms next Sunday and shout Hosanna. Join us for the Triduum, the three days — Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. Experience the goosebumps of the midnight resurrection as we celebrate the Easter vigil — my favorite service of the year. It all might seem a little silly — especially from the perspective of Judas the Impossible. But maybe, just maybe we're starting to get it; we're beginning to act like Mary — beautiful and absurd in her extravagant devotion. But Jesus clears the way. "Leave her alone" he tells our critical hearts. Leave her alone. There will always be things to fret about, things in the world to fix. But you won't always be able to celebrate me. So come, and let your devotion be extravagant, lavish, and excessive — like Mary's.

—–Amen.