Giving as Worship 10-6-12

The Reading: Colossians 3:15-17 Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other. None of this going off and doing your own thing. And cultivate thankfulness. Let the Word of Christ—the Message—have the run of the house. Give it plenty of room in your lives. Instruct and direct one another using good common sense. And sing, sing your hearts out to God! Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Jesus, thanking God every step of the way. The Middle Reading by Henri Nouwen “Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me.” The Gospel: Mark 14: 3-9. Jesus was at Bethany, a guest of Simon the Leper. While he was eating dinner, a woman came up carrying a bottle of very expensive perfume. Opening the bottle, she poured it on his head. Some of the guests became furious among themselves. “That’s criminal! A sheer waste! This perfume could have been sold for well over a year’s wages and handed out to the poor.” They swelled up in anger, nearly bursting with indignation over her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone. Why are you giving her a hard time? She has just done something wonderfully significant for me. You will have the poor with you every day for the rest of your lives. Whenever you feel like it, you can do something for them. Not so with me. She did what she could when she could—she pre-anointed my body for burial. And you can be sure that wherever in the whole world the Message is preached, what she just did is going to be talked about admiringly.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Giving as Worship 10-6-12 Great God and Creator of us all, teach us to worship you in our living and in our giving. Lead us in your ways of grace and gracious forgiveness and reconciliation. May we learn new ways to worship you today and may we hear your truth. Amen It is another one of those stories that begs to be told—a story, just like the story of the Samaritan woman, where the outcome is far different than what we think or would predict. Here is a woman, held in disgrace and disgust by all who knew her, who, nevertheless, managed to make her mark on the history of a religion so new, yet steeped in all those things very, very old. She is un-named and, though, many have thought that she must be that famous woman of ill repute, Mary Magdalene, she remains unknown to us. Until now… You don’t need to know my name. It’s been unimportant for centuries, and it’s unimportant now. What you need to know is what I did and when I did it, and what my actions caused Jesus to say to those gathered there. I’ve always been grateful that in just a sentence or two, I managed to make a difference—whether you know my name or not. We were all in Bethany for Passover which was just two days away. I went about my usual work, nothing very special about Passover for me—no family to celebrate with, no friends to speak of, and the people I lived and worked with didn’t care one whit about Passover. So, it was just any old day as far as I was concerned. And, then, I went to see him…but wait, I’m ahead of myself already. I got word through one of my more respectable friends that Jesus was coming to town for Passover. I’d met him before and knew only one thing—he was all that I ever knew or thought about God in one very real living person. You know how you meet someone and they just seem so much more than anyone you’ve ever known—more kind, more generous, more understanding, more everything. It’s difficult to describe—just more. When I found he was coming to Bethany, I began to look for a way that I could show him how all that I’d heard him say changed my life—not that I became perfect after I met him, but things began to matter to me—how I treated people, how I treated myself, and how I communicated with God. I’ve always believed in God, known that I was part of something so big that, all by myself, I can’t do much, but that little bit matters a lot when it gets put with everyone else’s little bit. I hope I’m making sense to you. I’d been so hopeless before I met him, Jesus, that is—wasn’t planning on living very long since something was bound to happen to me the way I was living. People like me don’t live very long—it’s hard to explain, perhaps, we don’t care enough about ourselves to look after ourselves, or perhaps we are so discounted by the rest of the world, we just slip away into real oblivion. And, then I learned that he was going to Simon’s house. Simon’s house! Now Simon is our town leper. He’s only allowed to live in the town because a few townspeople feel sorry for him. But he’s still a leper and treated as such. Isn’t that just like Jesus to go to a leper’s house? How many more ways can he show us that he cares about everyone and loves us no matter what? I ask you, how many ways? So, bit by bit, I add up everything that I have managed to save along the way. It surprises me how much it turns out to be. All I know is that I want to spend every last penny showing Jesus how much he means to me. I hadn’t figured out quite what I was going to do, just that I was going to do something and no one was going to stop me. I made a plan and waited—not very patiently, I might add, but I waited. Finally, the time has come and everyone knew that Jesus was now at Simon’s house. I walked slowly in that direction carrying my special gift very carefully so that it does not get broken too soon. I wondered how to make it happen, this special blessing I want to show Jesus. As I stood outside the door, sorta behind the big tree in Simon’s yard, I noticed all the important followers of Jesus arriving—the disciples, Jesus’ relatives, those in the town who have believed in him and supported him—all of them striding into Simon’s little house and sitting around outside the house as well. I began to doubt my plan—doesn’t seem so important now—maybe he won’t even notice. I wanted so badly for him to know that his love made all the difference to me at a time when no one else in the world had anything but hatred for me. Suddenly, I made a dash for it—now or never, I decided. I got to Jesus’ feet, quickly broke the bottle and began anointing him with the wonderful smelling oil that was spilling out of the bottle and covering him in the most wonderful scent—did you know that gratitude has a scent? At least it did that day. Jesus doesn’t say much, but he looks at me and his eyes, sad around the edges, say all that I need to hear. I am completely accepted by him even as I am completely known by him—all the things I’ve done and said and believed—all washed away in that love that pours over me as the sweet-smelling oil pours over him. Suddenly, I heard voices—angry voices that broke through and interrupted that beautiful moment of pure worship. People were yelling at me, telling me to stop. They told me I should have sold the oil—given the money to the poor. All the yelling—self-righteous, obnoxious snobs telling me what I should have done. And what have they ever done to show Jesus how much they love him—not much from what I hear. Most people want something from Jesus—all I wanted was for him to accept something from me. I can’t say a thing, out loud, but I don’t stop the flow of the oil. Suddenly, he speaks and they began arguing with Jesus himself. And by raising a hand, Jesus brings it all to a close. Jesus said something like this to them, “Stop your shouting! This woman has showed her true worship of me, the Son of God. You all are more worried with what you think is right, than allowing this child of mine to treat me with love and respect. Why look, she has anointed me for burial, even before it is necessary. She will be highly thought of anywhere people really understand all that I have been trying to say. Of course, you should take care of the poor. You will always have the chance to do that. She has done something that you will not be able to do soon. Leave her alone!” I looked into his face and his gaze erased all my fear and my shame. His eyes, deep with love and grace let me know that he appreciated what I had done. I turned and left then, but I knew that I had done the right thing. My heart was light with praise and love for God. Only a couple of days later, Jesus was arrested. They, those Pharisees and High Priests told Pilot to kill him. Where were all these high-falutin’ friends then? The crowd went kinda crazy, I watched from the edge of the crowd as they screamed for Pilot to crucify Jesus. I watched as Jesus fell under the pain of the beatings. After all that, they still made him carry his own cross up the hill. Well, you know what happened then. I am relieved that I did what I did when I did. Jesus was so close to dying even though we didn’t know it then. I’m glad that I got the chance to tell him how much all that he was and did meant to me. Someone asked me what it felt like when I was pouring the oil over Jesus. I’d have to say that it felt perfect—perfect because I was telling Jesus what he meant to me and he was taking all that I had to offer. Not many people want what I really have to offer. Oh, they’ll take what I sell, my work, myself, or my body. All I wanted to say was “thank you” and Jesus received my praise when no one else would even allow me to be present in their midst. How does it come to be that God, through the love of Jesus, is able to show us how giving of all that we have, is the greatest worship there is? How does it come to be that Jesus, the one who knows all, loved me in spite of all that is in my past, and made me feel that my gift to him in the form of worship made all the difference to him. I’m not sure I’ve ever made a difference in someone’s life or heart before, but Jesus let me know that loving him enough to brave all that I had to brave to get to him mattered—really mattered. Jesus told me that people like you would know who I was. Doesn’t really matter—as long as God loves and grace redeems and regenerates all that I am, all that matters is that you know from hearing my story that God blesses us when we lovingly come into his presence with praise and thanksgiving for all that we are made to be. Jesus takes our lives, no matter what, and turns them around in the moment we bring our all to him. He replaces all our worship and gratitude with blessing after blessing. I did a good thing that day. You are welcome to do the same. Amen and amen.