Catherine of Siena

 

Catherine of Siena, Mystic and Prophetic Witness, 1380

 Lamentations 3:31-36

 Psalm 36

 Luke 12:22–31

As we heard in the first reading today, “When all the prisoners of the land are crushed under foot, when human rights are perverted in the presence of the Most High, when one’s case is subverted—does the Lord not see it?”  No matter where you stand politically, there can be no doubt that we are seeing prisoners of our land crushed under foot, seeing human rights perverted, and cases subverted.  I mean, you and I can see all those things happening if we just open a newspaper!  And if we are seeing them, it means that God definitely sees them.  And don’t even get me started on the first four verses of Psalm 36!

We are living in turbulent times.  But we are not the first to live in such times.  In fact, “turbulent times” seems to be all times.  Our struggles are not the struggles that Catherine of Siena went through, but there are parallels to be sure.  And in Catherine’s life, we might find inspiration for our own times.  In the face of the challenges of the 14th century, we can see her focus on self-determination, healing, and unity.  And I think those are three good things for us to focus on in our own. time.  Self-determination, healing, and unity.

As a young woman in a family with 25 children, there were expectations put on Catherine and her sisters.  Namely, get married!  Each of the daughters would be expected to do everything she could to find a husband and establish a life as a married woman outside the crowded family home.  Look pretty, smile a lot, and get out of here.  In response to those pressures, Catherine chose to cut her hair, which our biography calls “her chief beauty.”  The forces in her life told her it was important to appeal to the superficial impulses of the world around her.  Catherine chose a different path.  A dangerous path.  She stood up for herself, and eventually the authorities relented.  An inspirational example of self-determination, which we would do well to notice in our current climate.

As for healing, Catherine became a nurse within the Dominican order, which was a common practice at the time.  But we hear that she specifically focused on those with leprosy and suffering from cancer; people whom others did not want to come near.  And how common it is that those who make us uncomfortable or afraid get mistreated and ignored.  It’s easy to walk away from the suffering of others.  What is not easy is to step into the breach and risk one’s own life and safety for those who are not like us.  It is easy to say to ourselves, “Well those aren’t my children,” or “those aren’t my people,” and wash our hands of the matter.  But Catherine went where others would not, with bravery and compassion.  An inspirational example of healing, which we would do well to notice in our current climate.

And then we come to unity.  As we await the start of the Conclave that will choose a next Pope, it is hard to imagine a time when there were two popes.  But in what is called “The Great Schism,” there were two men making claim to the title of the one Holy Father.  And throughout that period, as we heard “Catherine wrote tirelessly to princes, kings, and popes, urging them to restore unity to the Church.”  It is easy to imagine how each pope would have surrounded himself with sycophants and enablers, assuring them both that they alone wielded the power and the voice of God on the earth.  How does one even begin to sort that out?  But Catherine did not give up.  She knew the importance of the Church being One.  An inspirational example of unity, which we would do well to notice in our current climate.

In all three of these areas, self-determination, healing, and unity, Catherine of Siena exemplifies the type of person we should strive to be, with God’s help.  Standing up for our own rights as people created in the image of God.  Standing up for those that society finds it is easier to shun or ignore.  Standing up to those with earthly power to remind them of the value of unity, across all divides.

It doesn’t have to be like this.  We don’t have to cower in fear of authority, or join the crowd that wants to send away those who are different, or buy into the lie that says we are fighting on different sides, when we are actually one people.  May Catherine’s life, devoted to self-determination, healing, and unity, be an example to us all.  

Amen

YEAR C 2025 easter 2

Easter 2, 2025
Acts 5:27-32
Revelation 1:4-8
John 20:19-31
Psalm 150

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

So, there’s your annual “Doubting Thomas” gospel story.  Every year, in all three years of the lectionary cycle, this is the gospel reading for the second Sunday of Easter.  Every single year.  Which means, unless I got a substitute, I have preached on this same text every year for the 15 years that I’ve been ordained.  And—to be honest—I’m kind of out of ideas for now.  But we’ve still got three other perfectly good readings to look at, so today I want to talk about the reading from the Revelation to St. John.

“'I am the Alpha and the Omega’," says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”  Jesus says that same thing two more times in Revelation, so it’s clearly important. Now as every good Greek student knows, alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet, and omega is the last letter.  Alpha to omega is like A to Z.  Alpha and omega, the beginning and the end.  There are no letters that are not contained between those two.  Every possible word is made up of letters within those end points.  Nothing exists outside of Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end.

We can think of alpha and omega as the outstretched arms of Jesus.  And that is the space where we live our lives.  Within the infinite wingspan of Jesus.  All things exist within the arms of Jesus.  When we die, we are not going anywhere we have not always been.  There is nothing outside those arms.  Nothing before; nothing after.  In the beginning was the Word.  And at the end of everything will be the Word.  The beginning and the end; the alpha and the omega.

The chasuble I’m wearing this morning came from St. Alban’s Church in Cleveland Heights.  On Thursday evening, I went up to join the Bishop in decommissioning the church, which closed and disbanded about two years ago.  I was sort of like their unofficial priest for a few years before I came here.  The now secularized building is being sold to an art collective.  After the service, the Bishop said those in attendance could take anything we wanted from the building.  I took a box of taper candles, and I didn’t want this lovely hand-made chasuble to end up rotting in the cathedral basement, so I brought this home as well.

I’m not going to replace the beautiful chasuble we already have, but this one will be worn on some occasions, like today.  Because that’s important.  Just as it’s important to remember that St. Alban’s Church existed, and it existed within the outstretched arms of Jesus.  St. Alban’s is not going anywhere it has not always been.  Just like you and me.  All within the span of the alpha and the omega.  There are no words, or letters, or people, or faith communities that do not fall within that embrace.

We all spend so much time worrying about how long things will last.  From our retirement accounts to the milk in the fridge.  From the aging roof on the house to our aging bodies sitting here today.  Nothing lasts forever.  Part of what makes cut flowers valuable is that they don’t last forever.  Which is why we need to enjoy them now, while we have them.  The value of earthly living things is precisely because they don’t last.  Cling to them while you can, but when you have to say goodbye, remember that they are still within the arms of Jesus.

I heard someone point out recently that the en dash on a tombstone represents an entire life.  You’ve got the birth year and the death year, and that little dash between them is the life lived, however brief, or however long.  And there’s something to that.  But the beginning and end of that life—of your life—is not the beginning and end of all that is.  For that, you need Jesus.  The alpha and the omega.  The beginning and the end.  All beginnings and all the endings take place within the alpha and the omega.

I know that we all have our disagreements over . . . well, just about everything.  And the way things are going, there will be plenty more of that!  We don’t see eye to eye on everything.  And I would argue that that’s a good thing!  Because we are different people, with different life experiences.  Different values and families.  Different lifespans even.  But all of us live our lives within the alpha and the omega, between the beginning and the end.  No matter what happens in this life, we are always within the outstretched arms of Jesus.  Who gave his life for us, and who now lives and reigns, forever and ever.

Amen.

YEAR C 2025 festival of easter

Easter 2025
Acts 10:34-43
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
Luke 24:1-12
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The men in dazzling clothes said to the women, “Remember how he told you . . .”  And then, “They remembered his words.”  Remember how he told you.  That is the thing to cling to today.  In fact, it is the thing to cling to every day.  Remember how he told you, and then remember what he said.

Like, remember how he told you, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”  Remember how he told you, “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”  Remember how he told you, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  Remember how he told you, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

But we forget, don’t we?  We get tired, and anxious, and worried, and lonely.  And we forget that Jesus told us he is still with us.  We forget that he said because I live, you also will live.  We forget that he said from the cross, “It is finished.”

But let’s go back to that reading from Luke, and the women at the tomb.  They have arrived there without hope, and they are there to do what needs to be done.  When they get to the tomb, the stone has been rolled away, and there is no body.  Just two days before, there was a body.  They saw it; that’s why they went home without hope to prepare the spices.  They had forgotten what he told them.  And then, two men in dazzling clothes are standing beside them, and the women are terrified.  And these men ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”  Such a good question!

The messengers say, “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again." Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 

It’s not a question, asking them if they remember.  It is a statement, or even an encouragement:  “Remember how he told you.”  There’s not a question mark in the text.

For the women, the body of Jesus missing from the tomb is not good news.  Far from it!  The presence of two men in dazzling clothes is no cause for hope.  Far from it!  So then I ask you . . . Can you see where God is acting in this story?  Jesus is not there, so where is God?  Where is the hope they need in their time of need?  Where is God making a difference here?

The answer is, in the remembering.  The men—these angels—the ones in dazzling white are messengers from God.  And what have they done?  They have told the women to remember.  It’s not a new teaching.  Not a new insight.  Not a grand announcement.  It is . . . remembering.  The women already knew these words; they had already heard what would happen.  They just needed to remember.  And in remembering, they are given hope.  Keeping hope alive is what keeps us alive.

Remembering is woven through our prayers, and especially in our Eucharistic Prayers.  After a series of praises, they all move to the celebrant reminding both us and God of what God has done in the past.  Today, using Prayer D,  we will remind ourselves and God that we were formed in God’s own image, that God did not abandon us to the power of death.  That in God’s mercy, God came to our help.  That God sent Jesus to save us, and sent the Holy Spirit so that we might live for Jesus.

It is an ancient way of praying, and all the Abrahamic faiths follow this pattern.  Remembering how God has saved in the past, and asking God to save us now.  The whole first half of the Easter Vigil is exactly this.  To hear the stories of God’s action in history, and to remember.  Remembering is powerful stuff!  Remembering keeps hope alive, and hope keeps us alive.

“Do this in remembrance of me.”  You know that phrase well.  You hear it every time the bread and chalice are raised at these Altars.  It is not a new teaching; it is not a new concept: it is remembering.  We are reminded of what Jesus has done; we are reminded that he said on the third day he would rise again; we are reminded that he said, “This is my body,” and “this is my blood.”  We are reminded that God has saved in the past, is saving now, and will save in the future.  We are reminded that God has not let us down yet.

We do not hope because we can see the future.  We have hope because we can remember the past.  Not knowing what will happen, but remembering what God has already done.  Remembering brings hope, and hope keeps us alive.  We do not know what the future holds.  But we have hope because we remember.  And God has not let us down yet.

As those visitors said to the women at the tomb:  Remember how he told you he would rise again.  And they remembered his words, and they went and told the others.  Today, let us also remember, and go and tell the others.  There is always hope because we remember, and hope keeps us alive.  Remember what God has done for us.  And go and tell the others.
Happy Easter!

Amen.

YEAR C 2025 good friday

Good Friday, 2025
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Hebrews 10:16-25
John 18:1-19:42
Psalm 22

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

What we just heard is a story of Law v. Love.  What is legal v. what is moral.  What is allowed v. doing the right thing.  Selfish v. selfless. 

Everyone in the story is looking for justifications for their actions.  Here is why this man must die, and here is why it is not my fault.  You must be the one to kill this man because I am not allowed to, or I am not qualified to, or I am not a Jew.  Everyone is looking to be exonerated and everyone is looking to justify their own participation in this violence.

Except for Jesus.
Throughout this reading, Jesus keeps asking the obvious questions, the truthful questions.  An innocent lamb, headed for the slaughter.  Everyone else is trying to justify their own part in the slaying.  But there is no justification; there is no excuse; there is no exoneration.  For any of them, or for any of us.  

The temptation for you and me is to think we would have done things differently.  That we’re on Jesus’ side, unlike the chief priests, and the police, and the governor, and the disciples.  Don’t fall into that trap.  Putting ourselves into this story is a fool’s errand.  Because if it is a story about the people around Jesus . . . well, you see how it ends.

Look to Jesus.  This is a story about Jesus, not the people looking to be justified.  You and I play all the other parts at different times in our lives.  Sometimes we accuse, sometimes we deny, sometimes we call out for violence and death.  At one time or another, you and I end up standing in for each and every person in this story, except for one.  There is only one truly righteous person in this story.  Only one whose actions are justified.  Only one who is exonerated.  And by his wounds we are healed.

Jesus, Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on us, and grant us your peace.

Amen.

YEAR C 2025 maundy thursday

Maundy Thursday, 2025
Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Psalm 116:1, 10-17

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

“Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”  Jesus loved them till the end.  All of them.  All of them beloved.  All of them welcome.

Jesus washes all the disciples feet.  Judas has not yet left to do quickly what he must do.  He’s still there.  And, as Jesus says to Peter, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”  This means all twelve disciples have “a share with” Jesus—whatever that phrase may mean.  All 12 having a share includes Judas.  Peter is beloved, not better.  And Judas is welcome, not worse.  Whatever Jesus is doing in this washing of his disciples’ feet, he is doing it both to Peter and to Judas, along with all the others.  Beloved, not better.  Welcome, not worse.

We call today Maundy Thursday.  Maundy comes from the latin word, maundatum, which in English becomes “commandment.”  (You can think of our word “mandatory.”)  In many churches tonight, people will wash one another’s feet, as a sign of humility and service.  Some Christians—like those in the Church of God—view foot washing as something like another sacrament.  But here at St. Timothy’s, this has never really been part of our tradition.  And to be honest, I’m glad for that.

Because foot washing does not mean for us what it meant to Jesus and his disciples.  In our society, more than anything, foot washing is awkward and uncomfortable for the person whose feet are being washed, which is definitely not the point Jesus was making.  To wash someone’s feet in Jesus’ day was a sign of service and humility—as if taking on the role of an indentured servant, as a matter of fact.  In our day and time, it’s like the roles are reversed: you have to humble yourself to let someone do the washing, rather than be the washer.  It gets it all backwards.

But Jesus does indeed give us a commandment tonight.  And if you look at the story, the commandment—this maundatum—is not a commandment to wash one another’s feet.  We know this, because Jesus comes right and tells us what the commandment is.  “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.”  That’s the commandment: to love one another.  And the foot washing is an example of how you might have done that in Jesus’ day.  But how do we follow this commandment to love one another in our own time?

Well, I suspect it will be different for each of us.  But by giving us the example of taking on the role of a servant, Jesus points the way.  “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

“Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”  May God give us the inspiration and the courage to love as Jesus loves.  And in doing so, others will know that we are disciples of Jesus.  Like Peter, beloved, not better.  Like Judas, welcome, not worse.  Together, we are the disciples of Jesus, following his commandment to live in love, as he loves us.  To walk in love, as Jesus first loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God.  

Amen.

YEAR C 2025 palm sunday

Palm Sunday, 2025
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke 23:1-49
Psalm 31:9-16

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

How did we get here?  How did we go from a crowd singing Hosanna to the King, to a crowd shouting crucify this false king?  How did they let this happen?  How did no one speak up?  How is it that not one person was willing to step forward and say, “This is madness!  Make it stop!”  I know we like to think we would have done that.  We like to think that we would step in front of the crowd and plead for reason and justice for an innocent man.  But would we?

As an occupied territory of the Roman Empire, things were mostly peaceful for the people of Judea, all things considered.  But as Herod’s son Archelaus was such a bad ruler, the people rose up in 4 BC and the Romans stepped in and crucified 2,000 Jewish citizens.  2,000!  Within ten years of that atrocity, Jesus was born.  So during his entire lifetime, the memory of 2,000 fellow citizens being crucified for getting on the wrong side of the government would have been a core memory among the people.

The Jewish people had a certain amount of freedom and justice in their occupied land, but they also had a direct memory of what happens when you get on the wrong side of the Roman Empire.  “Should I inform on my neighbor in order to save my own skin?”  “Should I look away when someone speaks ill of the emperor, or should I turn them in for sedition?”  The need to ask yourself questions like this creates an important tool for the oppressors.  Because it divides people from one another.  If I can’t trust my neighbor, if I can’t speak my mind freely, am I really free?  We might call this approach to governing divide and conquer.  The East German Stasi were quite familiar with it.

Back to the scene we just heard.  An innocent man, who has committed no crime, and is here legally has been swept off the street under the cover of darkness.  Hmmm.  He is arrested, mocked, and beaten.  Pilate himself says the man has committed no crime.  The parallels to what our country has been doing to innocent people like Andry Romero are striking.  A gay makeup artist who was scooped up off the street last month, accused of being a dangerous gang member, and sent to a torture dungeon in El Salvador.  Or the Maryland father Kilmar Garcia, whom the government openly admits it mistakenly arrested and sent there, and refuses to bring back despite court orders.

And now I go back to what I said just a few minutes ago.  How did they let this happen?  How did no one speak up?  How is it that not one person was willing to step forward and say, “This is madness!  Make it stop!”  I know we like to think we would have done that.  We like to think that we would step in front of the crowd and plead for reason and justice for an innocent man.  But would we?

Divide and conquer is a powerful motivator.  When we are afraid of our own government, when we are afraid of our neighbors, that makes us feel isolated and alone.  We choose to keep quiet with our head down, lest the Eye of Sauron suddenly sweep across and single us out.  And carrying the memory of 2,000 of your neighbors being crucified would certainly lead a person to act that way.  Just mind your own business and keep quiet.  But then how do we explain the crowd yelling “crucify him” about an innocent man?

I talk a lot about us being unified as the body of Christ in this world.  The people in this gospel story are also unified.  But they are united in fear.  They are united in their compliance to a dangerous government.  People can be united for a variety of reasons.  Think of sports teams, or humanitarian projects, or even television shows.  And people can also be united by fear and hatred.  People can be united in saying, “Please don’t see me.”  Or, “please go pick on and bully that other kid.”  As I say, people can be united for a lot of reasons.

But when we are united as the body of Christ, that is where we find love instead of fear.  Where we find courage instead of cowardice.  Because when we are one in Christ, God is among us.  God goes before us and God surrounds us.  God is behind us and beneath us, and everywhere we look, when we are united in the love of Jesus.

As we live out our lives, there will be times when we are afraid for ourselves and others.  There will be times when we turn inward because we fear the power of evil that surrounds us.  And in those times, we might find ourselves really wanting to just give in and join the crowd yelling “crucify him.”  Times when we might want to circle the wagons and protect ourselves and our family.  It’s honestly easier sometimes to just yell “crucify him” and go home.

But we don’t have to give in to that temptation.  There is another way.  A better way.  A way that brings life out of death.  A way that surrenders to God, and seeks what is good in this world.  A way that listens for the voice of God.  And you are here today because you have heard that voice of God.  You are here on the hardest, most confusing day of the church year, because you recognize this other way.  This better way.

We are the body of Christ in this world.  No matter how much we might disagree and have our differences, we—together—are the body of Christ.  Paul writes in 1 Corinthians, “ Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”  And he says, “If the foot would say, 'Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.  And if the ear would say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.  If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be?”  We are all different.  Yet we are all one.

It takes all of us to be the body of Christ.  And whatever one of us is going through impacts all the rest of us, because we are one body.  And as that one body, let us choose the way of love and life.  Let us choose not to join the crowd in fear and hatred.  There is a better way.  There is a loving way.  And as the body of Christ, God will guide us on the path that is the better way.  All we have to do is listen. 

Amen.

YEAR C 2025 lent 5

Lent 5, 2025
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Phil 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

So the first thing you’re probably wondering is, “what on earth is nard?”  And the second thing you’re wondering is, “how much is 300 denarii?”  And you’re probably also wondering, “what does Jesus have against feeding poor people?”

Let’s go through these, one at a time.  Nard is an oil that comes from the plant called “spikenard,” which grows in India.  You can take the root of this plant and mash it up and get oil from it.  It’s expensive stuff, and always has been, partly because it is difficult to make, and partly because it has such a wonderful smell.  (But you’d think the name “nard” would make it just a little less valuable.)

I’ve talked about denarii before, but let’s review.  In the Roman Empire, there was a coin called an “as.”  One denarius was worth ten asses.  (Hey, I’m just reporting the facts here.)  And one denarius would be equal to one day’s wages for a farm laborer.  So, 300 denarii would be about 10 months' salary.  That means, if the jar of nard could be sold for 300 denarii, it would be worth about, $50,000 in Ohio today.  You could buy a lot of meals for people with $50,000, rather than pouring it over someone’s feet and wiping it with your hair, right?  So that covers nard and denarii.

Now, before we get to the poor, I want to mention a few things about this story.  There are not many times when something appears in all four gospels.  For example, the birth story of Jesus only shows up in two of the four gospel books, and it is radically different in those two cases.  Very few stories make it into all four gospels.  And this one, with the nard, and the denarii, and the woman, and the poor, this story is in all four gospels.

So, why does that matter?  Why is it so important that this story gets recorded each time?  Well, I guess it’s obvious:  all four gospel writers thought this was an important thing to tell us.  But it’s worth noting that the story is different in the different gospels.  In Matthew and Mark, the scene is set in Simon’s house, and an unknown woman pours the nard onto Jesus' head.  In Luke, they are gathered in the home of a Pharisee, and a woman (who is a “known sinner”) pours the oil on his feet while crying, and uses her hair to wipe off the oil.  In today’s version from John, the event takes place in the home of Lazarus—who has just been raised from the dead—and Mary, his sister, pours the oil on Jesus’ feet, wiping the oil with her hair.  (Incidentally, mixing these four stories together is what led Pope Gregory in 591 to bizarrely declare that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute—a mistake from which she has never fully recovered.)

So, given that there are differences in the four versions of what happened, it is useful to look at the differences, to help us see what John wants us to see.  

First off, the setting.  In the previous chapter, Lazarus has just been raised from the dead, by Jesus.  And now, six days before Passover, Jesus is back at the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.  It is clear that John wants us to connect this scene to the raising of Lazarus.  Plus, by having Mary pour the oil on his feet, and dry them with her hair, John is also connecting us to the Passover meal that’s about to happen, when Jesus will wash the feet of his disciples at the last supper.  For John, this scene acts as a hinge, or a pivot point, moving us from the raising of Lazarus to the Last Supper and the death and resurrection of Jesus.  And so why does that matter?

Well, John tells us that Jesus loved Lazarus.  Do you remember what Jesus does before he raises Lazarus from the tomb?  It’s the shortest verse in the bible: John 11:35 “Jesus wept.”  Jesus loved Lazarus . . . and so he raised him from the dead.  Today’s story connects the raising of the beloved Lazarus with the resurrection of Jesus.  Can you see what that means for you?  I’ll give you a hint:    Jesus loves you too, and will bring you to new life.

Okay, so what about the poor?  “You will always have the poor with you.”  Some version of that line is in all four gospels here.  And it is often misused to get out of helping the poor.  Politicians do it all the time.  “No point in trying to help everyone, since Jesus himself says, ‘you will always have the poor with you’.”  And the response to that is to go look at Deuteronomy 15:11, where God says, “Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land’.”  So God is saying, you will always have the poor, and there will always be people in need.  So feed them!

Now, in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, it is “the disciples” who suggest the money could’ve been given to the poor.  Only in John do we get this specific mention of Judas.  And, John adds this bit about Judas’ being a thief who would have stolen the money anyway.  So John makes the scene into something where it’s actually better that the money never went to the poor, since Judas would have just taken it.  But something gets lost in Judas’ being portrayed as a thief here.  And that something is:  us.

What I mean is this:  you and I probably don't think of ourselves as the kind of people who would steal from the collection plate.  We’re not like this Judas, who would use his pretend concern for the poor as a way to pocket money from the offering.  And for that reason, we just might miss an important thing that’s going on in this story.  

Because Judas raises a legitimate concern for the poor, which I know you share.  $50,000 could buy a lot of blankets and food for people living in our community.  Mary’s crazy oil pouring is a huge waste!  It’s enough to make you run out onstage in a black hat carrying a chainsaw.  This is just bad stewardship!  Times are tough; we need to watch every penny.  And $50,000 is a LOT of pennies!  What could possibly be helped by pouring all that liquid gold on Jesus’ feet?

I’ll give you the answer from John’s words:
“The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”
The house was filled.

Jesus is worth everything to Mary.  Jesus is the one who has brought her brother back to life.  Jesus is the one who loves her, who will bring her back to life.  A jar of expensive perfume, poured over the feet of Jesus, that is a mere token of what she owes to him, what we each owe him.  She does this as an expression of love, and from that love, the house is filled with the fragrance.  These feet—which will soon feel the nails of crucifixion—these same feet fill the house with the fragrance of perfume.

So, two questions . . . Why did Judas object to Mary’s extravagance?  Maybe his concern for the poor, or maybe because he was a thief.  But why did Mary anoint the feet of Jesus?  Because the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

We can think of Judas as business as usual, the tired, old penny-pinching, selfishness masquerading as concern for the poor.  Maybe he just wanted to root out waste, fraud, and abuse!  Appealing to common sense, and good stewardship, but based in self-preservation and greed.  Turning inward.

We can think of Mary as a new way of being.  A way that throws everything at the feet of Jesus, knowing that he will turn it into a fragrance that will fill the world.  Pouring out our most treasured possessions for the one who redeems them—and us—and brings all things to fullness.

Those soon-to-be nail-scared feet give off the sweetest scent imaginable.  The overflowing abundance of God fills the room.  And we can sense it when we come forward this morning.  When you hear the words, “The gifts of God for the people of God,” then you will know.  The fragrance of Jesus has filled the room; the extravagant abundance of God overwhelms us.  The bread of heaven and the cup of salvation are here to offer us life and forgiveness.  As we heard from the prophet Isaiah, God is doing a new thing, and the fragrance fills the room.  Come and see.  Taste and see.

Amen

Frederick Denison Maurice, Priest, 1872

Frederick Denison Maurice, Priest, 1872

Socialism is a term not very much in favor at the present moment.  This is partly due to people’s misunderstanding what socialism is, and partly due to those with the loudest voices telling us that it will bring ruin upon our country and our world.  To be called a socialist these days is to be an enemy of the people.  Whoever “the people” might be, exactly.

Frederick Maurice is credited with being one of the founders of Christian Socialism.  As he wrote, “Christian Socialism will commit us into being in conflict with un-socialist Christians, and unchristian socialists.”  The idea of bringing socialism and Christianity into union seems absurd to us today.  And it was indeed absurd in Maurice’s day.  But if you look at how early Christianity is portrayed in the Bible, especially in the first chapters of the book of Acts, you can see that Christianity was a socialist movement from the very start.  It is the distortion of Christianity and—in more recent times—of Socialism that brought the two into conflict.  To our modern ears, Christian Socialism sounds like an oxymoron.  Not unlike “government progress,” or “Congressional ethics.”

And so Maurice was onto something when he said that Christianity and Socialism would be in conflict when they don’t embrace the tenets of one another.  Christianity without sharing with those in need is empty chatter; and Socialism without a foundation of Jesus’ teachings turns into stealing from our neighbors.  It is only in melding the two, by creating this obscure movement called Christian Socialism, that we can see either concept blossom into its full flower.

We can see where this leads in looking at the passion and work of Frederick Maurice.  While a professor at King’s College, he led the movement that eventually led to Queen’s College, which was founded to educate women.  When he lost his post at King’s College, he joined with others to found the Working Men’s College, specifically aimed at educating working men.  (As you can tell by the name.)  Providing pathways to education is foundational to making things better for those around us.

As does feeding the hungry.  Clothing the naked.  Giving water to the thirsty.  Freeing the captives.  Socialism—in its purest form—is about making sure everyone has what they need.  And Christianity—in its purest form—has the same goal at heart.  How often did Jesus say to do all those things?  The answer is, over and over.  In their best forms, Christianity and socialism want the same things.  And in joining them together, Maurice felt he was doing what was obvious.

But, of course, that’s not how life works.  The people of his day, on the whole, could not see what Frederick Maurice could see.  And yet, it was said of him that he was “a man to whom other men, no matter how much they might differ from him, would listen.”  Maurice did not point fingers and yell insults.  He reasoned.  And he persuaded.  He worked.  And he worked for those who worked.  And he worked for those who for whatever reason could not work.

As Frederick Maurice himself wrote, “Christianity is the foundation for Socialism, and Socialism is the necessary result of a sound Christianity.”  These are hard words to grapple with in 2025, but they are as true now as they were in 1870.  Christianity is the foundation for Socialism, and Socialism is the necessary result of a sound Christianity.

May we all learn to set aside our talking points and take this truth to heart.