Anointed John 12:1-8 Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins April 6, 2025
Anointed
John 12:1-8
Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins
April 6, 2025
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised
from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of
those reclining with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed
Jesus’s feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the
perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him),
said, 5 ”Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the
poor?” 6 (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.) 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She
bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8 You always have the poor with
you, but you do not always have me.”
______
How many of you would say you like your given name?
I’ve never been terribly fond of “Rhonda.” The upside of my name is that I don’t run into a
lot of Rhondas . . . it’s never been one of those super popular names like “Mary” in the
1940s or “Linda” in the 1950s or “Lisa” in the 1960s.
In my generation, the most popular name was “Jennifer.” One summer when I was a camp
counselor at a Christian girl’s camp, there were seven Jennifers on our staff of maybe 25. So
we had nicknames for each Jennifer on our staff:
One we called simply, “Jennifer.”
One we called “Jen.”
One we called “Jenny.”
One we called by her initials “J.B.”
One we called by her last name, “Arnwine.”
One we called “Fer.”
And my favorite of the “Jennifer” nicknames that summer? “Ifer.”
In the same way that there were far too many Jennifers at camp that summer, there are far
too many “Marys” in the New Testament. So people of faith have given all these Marys
nicknames to help us identify them.
There’s Mary “the mother of Jesus.”
There’s Mary “Magdalene.” Scholars aren’t sure whether she was from “Magdala” or,
more recently, whether “Magdalene” was a description of her character, a derivation
from the Hebrew word “Migdal” which means “tower” or “elevated/great.”
We also hear about Mary “of Bethany.” This is the Mary of “Mary and Martha” fame.
Mary and Martha had a famous brother named “Lazarus” known for being raised
from the dead.
There’s a great deal of confusion when it comes to the Marys in the New Testament. Recent
groundbreaking scholarly work by Dr. Elizabeth Shrader suggests that this was no accident.
Through textual criticism, studying and comparing the earliest manuscripts we have,
Shrader has found significant evidence that early scribes may have tried to intentionally
diminish Mary Magdalene’s role. Dr. Shrader suggests that Mary of Bethany and Mary
Magdalene were one and the same person, and she makes a compelling case. As we talk
about Mary today, and her lavish act of love, consider the possibility that Mary of Bethany
and Mary Magdalene are one and the same.
Perhaps the most damage done to Mary Magdalene was via Pope Gregory I in 591, who
conflated Mary Magdalene with the “sinful woman” who anointed Jesus’ feet at the home of
a Pharisee as told in Luke 7 . . . a different story entirely than the gospel lesson we read
today from John 12. So, Mary Magdalene was not a prostitute. There’s zero scriptural
evidence to suggest otherwise. One more time for the people in the back: MARY
MAGDALENE WAS NOT A PROSTITUTE!
It's no surprise that Mary’s role in the life of Jesus was suppressed . . . we see the beginnings
of the suppression in the text itself: Judas snarled his traitorous nose when Mary, in her
own home, took a pound of costly perfume, and anointed Jesus’ feet.
Now this may seem a bit weird to us, because we don’t go around washing each others’ feet
very often these days. But when we think about Mary anointing Jesus’ feet in this passage,
we need to understand that foot washing in Jesus’ time was basically the ancient equivalent
of taking a coat when a guest arrives at your home. It was just common hospitality. Back
then, people wore sandals and walked everywhere on dusty, dirty roads. When guests
arrived at your house, the polite thing to do was offer them water to wash their feet or have
a servant do it for them. It wasn’t a special religious ritual—it was practical housekeeping.
Imagine walking miles in open sandals on dirt roads . . . your feet would be filthy.
What made Mary’s action so extraordinary wasn’t the foot washing itself—it was the use of
expensive perfume instead of water, and her using her hair instead of a towel. That was
definitely NOT standard practice. The perfume she used (pure nard) was incredibly
valuable—worth about a year’s wages. Using something that expensive just to wash
someone’s feet would be like using champagne to wash your car or breaking open your
retirement account to buy someone dinner.
The typical foot washing ritual was simple and utilitarian—water, maybe a bit of oil if you
were being extra hospitable, and a towel. What Mary did was extravagant, intimate, and
deeply symbolic. She wasn’t following social custom—she was breaking it in a powerful
way that pointed to Jesus’ coming death and burial. Mary was celebrating Jesus’ life before
his immanent death.
We should all take a cue from Mary.
This week at Chapel, we’ve said goodbye to two precious church members. And for both, I
am so very glad that we celebrated them before their passing.
Not too long ago, when Ron Henkel retired from our choir as the longest-serving choir
member, the choir held a reception in his honor, thanking him for decades of faithful
service in our music ministry.
And a few weeks ago, after her doctor gave her only weeks to live, many of Laurie
Burmeister’s friends gathered to celebrate her life. What a simple, beautiful gathering filled
with hugs and heartfelt cards given to this precious soul we knew we’d lose too soon.
Mary knew that what Jesus was planning to do in Jerusalem was a death sentence. Two
planned protests . . . the first with Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey to mock Pontius
Pilate . . . the second with turning over money changers’ tables in the Temple, which would
infuriate the Jewish Temple leadership. You couldn’t make scenes like that in those days
without a consequence unto death.
So on this night, this Saturday night before the next day’s planned Palm Sunday protest,
Mary found this most profound way to say goodbye to Jesus. The costly nard. The lowering
herself to the role of a servant. The use of her hair. The fragrance wafting throughout the
home.
Then Judas’s rebuke. “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the
money given to the poor?” Yeah, right Judas. Or maybe you’d like to pocket the money
yourself?
Jesus set Judas straight: “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day
of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
Mary understood something profound that we often miss: the time to celebrate someone is
while they’re still with us. The time to pour out our love, our appreciation, our costly
perfume is today, not tomorrow, not at their funeral.
What might it look like for us to “anoint” the people in our lives now?
Perhaps it’s writing that note of appreciation to someone who showed
extraordinary kindness.
Maybe it’s having that difficult conversation with a family member, saying the words
“I love you” that have gone unspoken for too long.
It could be reconciling with a friend before bitterness takes deeper root.
Or simply sitting with a loved one, fully present, phones away, truly listening to their
story.
We’ve all been to funerals where beautiful words are spoken, where photo montages
capture joyful memories, where flowers overflow and music stirs our hearts. And we’ve
probably all had the same thought: “I wish they could have heard this.” Mary never had that
regret with Jesus. She poured out her love while he could still receive it.
Jesus’ words to Judas ring with truth: “You always have the poor with you, but you do not
always have me.” This isn’t Jesus dismissing care for those in need—his entire ministry
showed otherwise. It’s Jesus reminding us that relationships have seasons, that people
aren’t permanent fixtures, that opportunities to show love are fleeting and precious.
As we continue our Lenten journey toward the cross, let’s follow Mary’s example. Let’s not
wait for eulogies to speak our love. Let’s not save our “costly perfume” for when someone is
gone. Let’s anoint the living. Let’s celebrate now. Let’s create moments where the fragrance
of our love, like Mary’s perfume, fills the whole house.
For in the end, what will matter most isn’t the money we saved or the practical choices we
made, but the love we poured out while we still had the chance.