Fifth Sunday in Lent
April 6, 2025
John 12:1-8

Now look. I’ve been going to church long enough to know what actually happens during the scripture lessons. I’m not going to name names, but I get it. You’re kind of paying attention, sure, but you’re also making your shopping list. You’re also reading the bulletin or whispering to the person next to you. You listen, but you’re also thinking about lunch and what you’re doing this afternoon. And I get it. And really, it’s because so many of these stories sound so much alike.

On the surface, this story from the Gospel of John seems just like one of those standard Jesus stories. He eats, some people talk to him, and then he says something kind of mysterious that you don’t understand. And you’re just begging that I start the sermon with a joke or something to wake everyone back up. 

But the thing is, this story is weird. And what I want to do today is to talk through the weirdness. And if you drift off, or start flipping through the Prayer Book, whatever. 

So it begins – “Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him” (John 12:1-2a). Right, Jesus raised a guy from the dead. That is not normal. And think of how weird that must have been for Lazarus. He was dead. He was brought back to life. And now he’s at a dinner party. Can you imagine how disorienting that would have been? The Bible actually says, right after the lesson for today ended, that a bunch of people showed up at the house, not only because Jesus was there, but because they wanted to see Lazarus. I can’t blame them. Lazarus is like a curiosity show. “A guy who was dead is alive again? And he’s at a dinner party? I have got to see this.” Kurt Vonnegut, the old author, put it this way – “Leave it to a crowd to always get the wrong end of a miracle.” That’s weird thing number one.

Weird thing number two. Mary anoints Jesus’ feet. Let me rephrase that – Mary anoints his feet with perfume that smells like pistachios. But that’s not quite it – Mary pours what would be an entire coke can of oily perfume over Jesus’ nasty, crusty, and most certainly, very smelly feet. And then wipes off that oily, pistachio, nastiness with her hair. And that, my friends, is her way of saying “thank you” to Jesus for raising her brother, Lazarus, from the dead. I don’t know, seems like maybe a thank you note and a gift card could have been a nice gesture?

Weird thing number 3. That perfume is very expensive. Three hundred denarii is close to what a field hand would make in an entire year. For comparison’s sake, the same size bottle of Chanel Number 5 today would set you back thirteen hundred dollars. That’s high, but not, you know, your entire W-2. And this is what sets off Judas Iscariot. “Why was this perfume not sold and the money given to the poor?” (John 12:5). And I love it when the Bible gives us some parenthetical commentary – “(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it”) (John 12:6). Of course, the irony is that in just a few days, Judas will sell out Jesus for a few silver coins. So Jesus talks back to him. “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me” (John 12:8). Now – Jesus is not saying that it’s okay to not care about the poor. I actually think it’s a bit of a dark joke. He’s scolding Judas. In my imagination, Jesus gives a side-eye to Peter and says, “you may not always have me around, but you will always have the hypocrites.” It’s like a dark joke, and jokes are always the first things lost in translation. 

It’s all just a little weird.

And that’s the point. Because over the next two weeks in the Church, things will be weird. Just think through this with me. Next Sunday, Palm Sunday, we’ll all start outside on the front steps of the church waving palm fronds. I always wonder what the Baptists think of us on Palm Sunday. “Did you see those Episcopalians waving leaves around? What a bunch of weirdos.” Then, on Maundy Thursday, we’ll come back to church, and we’ll wash each other’s feet. Well, you don’t have to. You can keep your shoes and socks on if you want. But, some of us will be walking around church barefoot. Weird. On Good Friday, we’re going to remember and read again the story of the crucifixion. That the Lord God of all creation dies…on a cross…and then on Easter is raised from the dead. 

Over the last two thousand years, we’ve tried our hardest to normalize Christianity. We’ve tried very hard to make it all seem logical, rational, and respectable. But goodness, it is just strange. I think we need to revel in it. And the Church is strange, too. By our very nature, Church is counter-cultural and weird. People who have no reason to get together, get together. We read strange stories that are thousands of years old. We sing together, remember, the Church is the last place in western civilization that strangers routinely sing together. We eat bread, we drink wine, and then we go and have donuts. And, it’s all free. Sure, people give money here. I give money here. But you don’t have to. Everywhere else, you gotta pay the bill. Not here. That’s weird.

What we do together, and the life of the Church, and our sacred stories, are all a bit odd. And yet, that is what makes it all so incredible and beautiful, and, to me, the only story worth living. These, admittedly, weird stories raise me up. They give me hope and encouragement – and that if my life is just a bit odd. Well then, I’m in good company. 

And when feel that you don’t quite fit in with the rest of the world, if you’re not quite like everyone else, then you are in good company. The Church, we Christians, should always be just a few degrees off from what everybody else is doing. When we gather, we ought to lavish our God and each other with love. Like Mary does to the Lord Jesus. Even if the world thinks that it’s a foolish waste of our time and money. Like the conversation between Judas and Jesus, the rest of the world looks at us, in the Church, and they say, “couldn’t you find something better to do with your time and money?” And of course, we say back to them, “like, what you’re doing with your time and money is all that special?” We’re always going to be just a bit off, just a bit different, just a bit weird.

And, this comes with a warning. If you fit in too well, if you are getting along with the world too cozily, then it’s time for a spiritual gut-check. If you’re desperate to fit in with the world around you, be careful. On your way to being “normal,” you might lose sight of the very weird Kingdom of God. 

I mentioned Kurt Vonnegut earlier. He was a bit off himself, but he wrote a sermon on this passage forty-five years ago and gave it an Episcopal Church. I told you the Kingdom of God was strange. He ended by saying that people don’t really come to church to hear a sermon, they come to daydream about God. So over the last nine minutes, maybe you’ve been daydreaming about feet, or pistachios, or Judas, or Jesus. And that is just fine by me. But whatever you may have got from this sermon I pray that your daydreams, your hopes, your life with Jesus will be just a richer, just a bit weirder, and just a bit lovelier than it was before.