First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Mark 14:3-9
November 9, 1997
I have a friend who can get you a deal on anything. You want it, he’ll find it. And he’ll find it better, faster, cheaper….especially cheaper….than it can be found anywhere else.
By contrast, I can’t get you a deal on anything. I don’t have connections. I don’t have contacts. And I don’t have cost-cutting cousins who can get it for you wholesale. Mentioning my name won’t save you buck one, or get you into anybody’s back room where they “let the good stuff go for a song.”
Except for perfume. I can get you great perfume….at a great price….from a great place….where they’ll even throw in a lecture, a demonstration, a little hand-kissing, and something to drink if you are thirsty. There is a catch, however. You have to go to Egypt. That’s because my contact, whose name is Mohamud, is in downtown Cairo. He owns a beautiful shop, “Pharaoh’s Palace,” kitty-corner from the Egyptian Museum.
Actually, I didn’t find Mohamud. Mohamud found me. Five years ago. Walking along the Nile. On a Sunday afternoon (with Kris, and a good friend named Beverly Miller). He was dressed like an American businessman. We were dressed like American tourists. The conversation moved from the day (“lovely”), the weather (“balmy”), the Nile (“historic”), to the subject of crossing the street (“nigh unto impossible”). Then, like the world’s greatest Boy Scout, Mohamud led us across twelve lanes of traffic. And before we could say “praise God,” we were in his shop. Which he unlocked and opened just for us. For you must remember that Arabs were polishing the art of merchandising hundreds of years before Americans were learning the art of resisting.
He never tried to sell us anything. Instead, he schooled us in the subject of perfume. He taught us about making it….marketing it….and properly using it. Perfume begins with flowers. Which are pressed into oils….or essences. Which are then sent to France….or America….to be cut with alcohol. Different combinations of oils yield different scents, while different percentages of alcohol yield different products (perfume, cologne, etc.).
There are not all that many essences. But there are a multitude of combinations and formulas for cutting. So he asked Bev and Kris to name their favorite brands. Which they did. He, of course, had none of those brands by name. But he had the oils (the essences) that would eventually yield those brands. The more brands they named, the more essences he produced….applying them to virtually every uncovered portion of their anatomy.
Then he asked me to name a brand. Figuring that this was not the place to say “Old Spice” or “Mennen Skin Bracer,” I looked at the logo on my shirt and remembered that the people who put little horsies on everything else, also made men’s cologne. So I produced that name…. whereupon Mohamud produced that essence. And I said, “Voila.” In point of fact, I wouldn’t have known whether Mohamud had duplicated the Polo scent or not. But Kris said he had. And she knows about these things.
Forty-five minutes later, we were asking Mohamud to sell us various bottles of oils. Which he did. At a most reasonable price. To this day, I still have half a bottle remaining from my five-year-old purchase. And last March, I purchased a new scent (which will probably last me until my ninety-fifth birthday). For one uses only a “touch” of the oil. And since the oil is uncut by alcohol, it never evaporates.
Last March, everybody on our tour wanted to see Mohamud (along with the Pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx and the Temple of Karnak, of course). And most of them did….see Mohamud, that is. Which is why ours is such a sweet-smelling congregation. And which is why Mohamud’s eyes will light up, should you wander into Pharaoh’s Palace tomorrow and announce that you are “a friend of Ritter.”
Which brings me (by way of segue) to my all-time favorite perfume story. But for this one, we have to fly over Cairo, all the way to Bethany….near Jerusalem….just five miles over the back road from the Mount of Olives. We’re going to the home of Simon the Leper. Jesus is eating there. In fact, if you read the gospels carefully, it seems as if Jesus spent a lot of time eating….almost as much as George Washington spent sleeping.
This is one of my favorite stories. A woman comes in to this dinner party with an alabaster jar of ointment. Pure nard. Very expensive. Breaks the jar. Pours the entire contents over Jesus’ head. But instead of being offended….or surprised….Jesus is deeply moved. That’s because he says so. “I will never forget this,” he says. “In fact,” he adds, “no one else will ever forget this either.”
But why am I telling you this? You know the particulars of this story as well as I do. So let me take you underneath the action….or behind the scenes. Let me remind you that people did not sit on chairs at dinner parties in Jesus’ day. They reclined to eat, leaning on their left elbow….thereby leaving their right arm free for the taking of food. Which means that this woman, upon entering, stood directly above him.
It was also a custom to pour a few drops of perfume on a guest upon his arrival at the house. Which suggests that this woman’s gesture is not the issue….only its excessive nature. For it was excessive. Pure nard was a very precious perfume, made from a plant that only grew in India. As perfumes go, we are talking “Giorgio,” to say the least. We are certainly not talking “Mennen Skin Bracer.” This perfume was worth 300 denarii. One denarius equaled one day’s wage. Simple math suggests that this perfume represented ten working months of common labor.
Jesus is clearly moved by the woman’s sensitivity….her extravagance….her timing. “It is a good thing she has done,” he says. Which comment also deserves some amplification. In the Greek language there are two words for “good.” One word is “agathos,” which describes a thing that is morally good. The other word is “kalos,” which describes a thing that is not only good, but lovely. An action could be “agathos” without being “kalos.” In other words, an action could be decent, moral and right….but still be cold, unfeeling and austere. But an action that is “kalos” is winsome and warm. It has, as William Barkley explains: “A certain bloom of charm about it.” This act of perfume-spilling is clearly “kalos”….a good thing that is also quite lovely. The Scots have an even better way of putting it. They would call it “a bonnie good thing.”
What makes it lovely, in part, is its extravagance. It is neither measured nor calculated. Suffice it to say, “appropriateness” is not an issue for the perfume lady. She asks no questions. She makes no calculations. She consults no advisors. She simply opens the jar and spills.
The other thing that makes it “lovely” is its timing. Jesus is about to die. Which he seems to know. But no one else seems to know it. I doubt that this lady knows it either, in spite of the words of Jesus about anointing his body for burial. The lady may be oblivious to the impending death of Jesus. But death is very much on Jesus’ mind. And I have got to believe that, when you are about to die, your emotions run pretty close to the surface. Which means that anything done for you at such a time….or said to you at such a time….is going to have double the impact. And if something moves you, it is probably going to move you a lot. And if some lady enters and, in one grand gesture, says, “I can’t even begin to put a price on my feelings for you,” I think it’s going to move you to tears. And if someone else says, “What a waste”….while another says, “Open the window, this place reeks”….while a third says, “Who, in God’s name, is that lady anyway, and how did she get in here?”….I think you can understand why Jesus says: “Nobody will ever forget her, I tell you that.” And you know what? Nobody ever has.
There were those who disagreed, of course. “Shocking,” they said. “Wasted,” they said. “It might have been sold,” they said. “What of the poor?” they said. And, to their credit, they raised good questions. Which is what Pharisees are known for….the excellence of their questions.
So, what of the poor? Jesus says: “They’re always going to be around. But I am not always going to be around.”
Which does not mean that Jesus is soft on poverty programs. I think Jesus knows that devotion paid to him….when it is as genuine as was this woman’s….will never substitute for, but inevitably lead to, the kind of care the poor really need. In fact, I’d be willing to argue that the extravagant lovers of Jesus….I mean those who love him without counting the cost….are probably (in the last analysis) going to be the best friends the poor will ever have.
This is a strange story, is it not? I find myself wondering what I might have felt….and what I might have said….had I been there when the “Giorgio lady” met Jesus. Because I probably would have reacted like the Pharisees. Her act was lavish. Her act was excessive. And the money expended could have fed a whole lot of poor people. So I would have felt judged when Jesus responded to her act by calling it “lovely,” and then appended: “Don’t ever forget it.”
Don’t get me wrong. I am no stranger to extravagance. I have seen (and probably enjoyed) a few gatherings marked by lavish excess. I am no rube from the country. I have been around. But even I have had my socks knocked off on certain occasions when the host and hostess have spared no expense and cut few corners. But this is not the same thing. Because the focus of this story is not the extravagant entertainment of Billy Ritter, but the deeper devotion of Jesus Christ. So, on theological grounds, I’ll rise to the perfume lady’s defense.
But I’ll rise to defend her on personal grounds, as well. I’ll stand by her because (somewhat secretly) I long to be like her. I like people who can let go. I like people who can let go of themselves….their feelings….their emotions….their gifts and graces….and their worldly resources. By contrast, I am less drawn to the buttoned-up people of the world….the measured….and the overly controlled. Oh, they’re good people, too. They’re God’s people, too. I just don’t feel quite the same chemistry with them. Because they represent a part of myself that I am trying to outgrow. I have worked so long and so hard to be more spontaneous….more responsive….more giving….more loving…..more extravagant in the giving of myself….that I find myself wanting to be near the people who pull those qualities out of me, even as I back away from the people who bury those qualities back inside me.
Some months ago, I quoted a marvelous line from T.S. Eliot, about people who “measure out life in coffee spoons.” Doesn’t that communicate? It does for me. I can see such people now. “Here’s one spoon….two spoons….three spoons….half a spoon….which should do it for today….for this week…..for this job….for this woman….for these kids….for the singing of this hymn….for the meaning of this need….one spoon….two spoons….three spoons….and a half.” Who could ask for anything more?
Jesus asked for more. A whole lot more. Which is why I don’t want this church to measure out its life in coffee spoons. Instead, I want this church to have an extravagant spirit about the way it does everything. Which explains why I keep pushing myself, to keep pushing you.
Let me tell you a secret. Let me tell you why we zeroed in on “Plant More Than You Harvest” as this year’s campaign theme. Because we wanted to focus on one particular word in that theme. Not the word “plant.” Not the word “harvest.” But the word “more.” We wanted to counter the measured responses that many of you make to this business we call “stewardship.” For the world has corrupted you. But don’t get defensive, because the world has corrupted all of us…me included. As we saw last week, the world says: “Keep everything you make.” But the world doesn’t stop there. So this week I would remind you that the world also says: “Pay only for what you take.”
The ultimate example of this is the division of the lunch or dinner check at a table filled with frugal and calculating diners. You’ve sat at one of those tables. The bill comes and everybody tries to figure out who ate dessert….who skipped dessert….who split dessert….whose beverage cost how much….who had two beverages….and who ordered crumbled bleu cheese sprinkled on top of the salad (at a dollar and a half extra). I hate that scene. I won’t participate in that scene. I will throw in more than my share, precisely to avoid that scene. And I will sometimes pick up the entire check, just so I can short circuit that scene all together. So don’t invite me to a public dinner party if, at the end of the meal, we are going to quibble over the cost of the braised carrots (and how many people ate them, and how many people didn’t).
But there are people who approach the church with the same measured mentality. For them, the church is a store. And once each year (along about November), they get their shopping cart and go up and down the aisles picking stuff off the shelves:
Let’s see. What will I purchase this year? I’ll start with one Christmas Eve service. Then I’ll throw in ten or twelve Sundays in the sanctuary (between Florida and northern Michigan). Along with a Lenten dinner (I like Lenten dinners). And a couple of Holy Communions. What else? Oh yes, a baptism. When the kids visit from California, we may need a baptism. What does that total up to, Herb? It sounds like $150 to me. Maybe $200. Oh, what the heck, let’s go for the higher number. Put down $200
Even as others say:
This year we don’t expect to need anything from the store. Therefore, there’s no reason to push our cart up and down the aisles. But in order to stay on the rolls (so we can continue to receive the circulars….and the coupons) we should probably cover the apportionment costs. That’s $117.45 for you, Herb….and $117.45 for me. But what about our daughter in Arizona? Should we do anything to keep her on the rolls? After all, she may ditch that creep she lives with and want to come back to the church someday to be married. Which means we should probably throw in $117.45 for her. What does that add up to, Herb? Three times $117.45 equals $352.35.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not knocking that. Or mocking that. But it’s so world-driven. It’s so self-focused. It’s so unlike the perfume lady. And so unlike what I ask of myself….at least what I ask of “my better self.”
Let me tell you something about long-term pastorates. Most long-term pastorates become chaplaincies. Meaning that ministers who stay a long time wind up as chaplains. So let me tell you about chaplains. Prisons have chaplains. Colleges have chaplains. Hospitals have chaplains. So does the Army. Navy, too. And what do chaplains do? Chaplains take care of people’s needs. They are especially good at taking care of spiritual needs. You got a need? Go see the chaplain. Everybody likes chaplains because they take care of needs. It feels good to have your needs taken care of. That’s no secret. Everybody knows that.
But when a minister stays for a long time, it becomes very tempting (and very easy) to settle into a need-meeting ministry. I’ll baptize this one and confirm that one. I’ll marry this one and bury that one. I’ll counsel this one and console that one. The longer I stay, the better I’ll be. I’ll see needs faster. People will trust me sooner. And I will have worked with the people so long….and will know them so well….that I’ll know just what to say. Which will be appreciated at all times….but especially at funerals.
This is how long-term pastorates turn into chaplaincies. And this is how the needs of the flock eventually set the agenda for the shepherd. I’m not knocking it. There is much about it that is good. But this is when ministers stop being leaders. And this is when churches….even great churches….begin to die. Although nobody knows it at the time, because everybody is getting their needs met….which feels quite comfortable.
I am here to meet your needs. I will always be here to meet your needs. But one of your needs….whether you know it or not….is your need to be stretched. And another of your needs….whether you know it or not….is your need to be challenged. My friends, at this time in the history of our world….at this time in the peril of our city….at this time in the rampant retrenchment ethos of our once-great denomination….would you really have any respect for a preacher who stood before you and asked you to do less than your extravagant best? Come on, now. Would you really?
