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+ + + In Nomine Jesu + + +
Please join me in prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ.
In our Midweek Lenten Vespers the last two years, we have heard as our Readings the Passion narratives of Sts. Luke and Matthew, respectively, and we have considered in the Sermons unique contributions to the whole of the Passion Narrative that the particular evangelist made by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. So, in our Midweek Lenten Vespers this year, we are hearing as our Readings the Passion narrative of St. Mark, and we are considering in the Sermons unique contributions to the whole of the Passion Narrative that St. Mark made by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Although St. Mark’s account has the fewest words, Norwegian New Testament scholar Ragnar Leivestad wrote that “the effect of this simple account is more impressive than that of any of the more elaborate parallel versions” (Christ the Conqueror, 66). And, although at least one unidentified online author considers St. Mark’s unique passages to be “quite unimportant” (Catholic Encyclopedia), we might better say with prominent Biblical scholar Raymond Brown that St. Mark “makes every detail count” (Crucified Christ, 29). Precisely how many unique contributions St. Mark made depends in part on what one counts as a unique contribution: whether something as simple as using a different word than another evangelist uses, or a unique detail of an event another evangelist reports, or an event of which none of the others tell, or some combination of the three.
For example, in just the seven verses that narrate Jesus’s being anointed in Bethany (Mark 14:3-9) that we heard as part of tonight’s larger Reading (Mark 14:1-25), there are arguably at least six unique contributions, all of which may be said to attest to St. Peter’s witnessing the event first-hand and relating it through St. Mark (Mann, ad loc Mk 14:3-9, p.555; confer 2 Peter 1:15). As St. Mark uniquely tells of the event, the critics of Jesus’s anointing indignantly spoke to themselves; the value of the ointment was estimated at more than 300 denarii, or 300 times the average daily wage of an agricultural laborer, so about one year’s worth of wages (Mann, ad loc Mark 14:5, p.557; Marcus, ad loc Mark 14:5, p.935); the critics scolded the woman; Jesus told them to leave her alone; Jesus told them that whenever they wanted they could do good for the poor; and Jesus said that she had done what she could, similar to how Jesus earlier had praised another female donor for her humble, self-giving service (Marcus, ad loc Mark 14:1-11, p.941). Tonight we especially consider Jesus’s statement about doing good for (or, “to”) the poor, whenever we want.
To be sure, what Jesus said is in keeping with what the whole of the Bible says about the need to do good for (or “to”) the poor—often especially the widows, the fatherless children, and the sojourners (for example, Deuteronomy 10:18). In this case, however, Jesus contrasts always having the poor (confer Deuteronomy 15:11) with not always having Jesus (confer Mark 2:20). The critics of Jesus’s anointing were not really indignant because they truly cared for the poor, for whom they could do good any time they wished (Mann, ad loc Mark 14:5, p.557; Voelz, ad loc Mark 14:7, pp.1002, 1007, 1011), but those critics were really indignant because they objected to Jesus’s being anointed, for which anointing this may have been the last opportunity.
For whom do we truly care? Jesus or the poor? Or, do we care most about ourselves? Whenever we want, we can do good for (or “to”) the poor, but do we ever truly want to do good for the poor, and do we ever actually do good for the poor? With last week’s winter-weather, came several opportunities to help those in need in our community—volunteering at an emergency shelter and helping distribute water—which opportunities I made members of our congregation aware of via email, but did any of us so volunteer? If any did, I am not aware of their doing so. And, earlier this week, I saw someone who may have been in need reclining on the side of a road, but only later did I really consider that I myself should have gone back to check on him or have called for someone else to check on him, instead of putting my planned errands ahead of his immediate needs. We all fail truly to want to do good for the poor and actually to do good for the poor, just as we fail to fear, love, and trust in God above all things and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, and so we all sin in countless other ways, deserving temporal and eternal death for each and every sin, and so countless times over.
But, as with the critics of Jesus’s anointing, God calls and enables us to turn in sorrow from our sin, to trust Him to forgive our sin, and to want to stop sinning. As we did in tonight’s Psalm (Psalm 6; antiphon: v.4), we plea for the Lord to turn and to deliver our lives, to save us for the sake of His steadfast love (or, “mercy”). And, as the Psalm continued, the Lord hears our plea and accepts our prayer. When we so repent, then God forgives us, our sinful natures and all our sins, whatever our sins might be. God forgives us for Jesus’s sake.
As we heard, the Jewish leaders were already seeking how to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill Him before Jesus’s anointing, and after Jesus’s anointing Judas Iscariot, who was one of the Twelve, went to the Jewish leaders in order to betray Jesus to them. We are not explicitly told by any of the four evangelists what Judas’s true motives might have been, but St. Matthew and St. Mark’s placement of the anointing between the Jewish leaders’ desire and Judas’s “fulfilling” it may suggest the anointing factored in. Or, maybe instead of wanting to do good either for the poor or for Jesus (confer John 12:6), Judas simply sought others who wanted to “do good for” or “give to” him (confer Matthew 26:14). Regardless, Jesus came not to be served but to serve, namely by giving His life as a ransom for many, understood as “all” (Mark 10:45). Out of God’s great love for you, for me, and for everyone else in the whole world, the God-man Jesus Christ took our sins to the cross and died there in our place, the death that we deserved on account of our sinful nature and all of our sin. The woman who anointed Jesus’s body beforehand for burial arguably believed, not only that He was about to die, but also that He would die as a criminal and so could not be anointed right after, and even that He would rise and so could not be anointed even days later, as, in fact, despite the other women’s intentions and actions very early on that first day of the week (Mark 16:1), He was not so anointed days later (Voelz, ad loc Mark 14:8-9, p.1012; compare CSSB, ad loc Mark 14:8, p.1530). Given her great faith, perhaps there is no surprise then, that her pouring ointment on His head that night as He was reclining at table is told in memory of her, wherever the Gospel is proclaimed in the whole world!
At least a day later, when He was reclining at a different table, Jesus with bread gave His Body and with wine gave His Blood of the covenant poured out for many, understood as “all”. His Gospel read and preached and His Body and Blood given to the baptized—who are instructed, examined, and absolved—forgive sins, and so also give life and salvation. More important than meeting any physical need that any one might have is meeting that spiritual need that we all have (Voelz, ad loc Mark 14:7, 1011). And, Jesus Himself did all that needs to be done, including instituting His ministry of Word and Sacraments, by which we in faith receive the benefits of His death on the cross for us.
So forgiven, we do good works, including genuinely wanting to do and actually doing good for the poor. As the Office Hymn put it, we “open wide a gen’rous hand / And help the poor in the land” (Lutheran Service Book 581:8). Thereby we serve as instruments of Jesus’s continued compassion (Marcus, ad loc Mark 14:1-11, p.941). We are not naïve: we realize that neither our efforts nor any government program, nor even socialism in its crassest form, keeps there from always being poor with us (not even does trying to eliminate them before they are born). Yet, we still do good for the poor, and, with daily repentance and faith, we live in God’s forgiveness for when we fail in that or any other regard, as we will fail. The woman’s act of devotion to Jesus when the time was right is remembered now, even as on the Last Day our Lord will remember our giving food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick, and coming to the imprisoned. And, “mysteriously” enough (LSB 851:3), there is no false dichotomy of “either Jesus, or the poor”: for we serve Him in serving the least of our Lord’s and our own brothers and sisters. Such good deeds ultimately are the evidence of the faith that He has worked in us, through which faith also we ourselves inherit the Kingdom prepared for us from the foundation of the world, in which Kingdom the poor will no longer exist as poor. (Matthew 25:31-46.)
Jesus’s statement about “doing good for the poor” that we have considered tonight is but one of the Divinely‑inspired St. Mark’s unique contributions to the whole narrative of our Lord’s Passion for us and for our salvation. In the four weeks to come, we will consider others. As we do, may God bless us now and forever.
Amen.
The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
+ + + Soli Deo Gloria + + +