In the Name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
We all know that Judas is a dishonest, hypocritical, betraying crook, and he represents everything you and I don’t want to be (but sometimes are).
But, that’s not all of it. It turns out that he’s even worse than we previously thought. We learn today, in the twelfth chapter of the gospel according to St. John, that Judas is also killjoy—a quintessential part party-pooper, who’s screaming complaint, at what is otherwise a fabulous celebration of grace, boils down to this: “Mary, you are not being efficient! This is expensive perfume; what you are doing looks like you’ve lost control of the situation!”
And his attitude should make perfect sense to you and to me, because we’re told that everything in our lives—in work and at play—is all about extracting maximum productivity, squeezing out maximum yield —in other words efficiently and carefully controlling outcomes.
I’m talking about the juxtaposition of the life of grace – the fragrant life of love and mercy and forgiveness in relationships – compared to the decaying life that is obsessed with miserly control in relationships.
What happens in relationships when efficiency is THE factor? What happens in relationships for a person who’s been caught up in this whirlwind of God’s grace and mercy? What happens to grace junkies compared to what happens to efficiency experts like Judas?
Judas said the maximum efficiency would have been to sell the parfum and give it to the poor. Who knows whether or not he would have actually shared the proceeds with the poor. I can’t really picture Judas returning the Chanel parfum to the store in Paris and rushing out to give the money to the poor.
He’s a tragic man who seeks maximum bottom-line efficiency, because that way he believes he can control outcomes and relationships around him. The life of grace is just too unknown – just too risky for him. In other words, what might happen if we leave here today actually believing what we confess with our lips every Sunday? It’s too risky to think about!
Practically speaking, you and I would have told Mary something like this: “Why, oh why, did you spontaneously sell 100 shares of that index fund last week and give it to your needy nephew? You know it will be worth more later on.” And that’s very efficient counsel.
But perhaps—just perhaps—she was caught up in the moment – in the very best way – totally moved, totally overcome by the feeling of love and grace and resurrection power – the exact moment she came to face with God’s infinite love and mercy towards her in the most radical way? And she responded to grace. Love is never efficient.
Think about the first time you fell in love—were those feelings efficient? Absolutely not! Those feelings – that experience – made you respond in ways that now seem crazy and radical – maybe even dangerous. But was it really all that crazy?
Mary didn’t pour out parfum; she poured out love – overflowing, extravagant love, because He first loved her, He first loved us. And it is not crazy; it is stunningly beautiful.
If you can’t think about being loved and responding to love, because you don’t feel particularly lovable today, can you think, then, about the most life-giving things you’re doing – activities that function as grace to you? Are they in any way efficient?
Think about your obsession with skiing—it’s not efficient, by any stretch, but you love it. If you didn’t go to Aspen to ski with your college roommates every year, you’d probably beat your children.
What about your infatuation with gardening? It’s not efficient at all, but it gives you immense joy. If you didn’t tend to those roses, you’d probably poison your husband.
Let me tell you what happens when grace is gone – when love is lost, when efficient outcomes reign supreme.
Years ago some close friends of mine reached that inevitable point in their marriage when BB King would say the “thrill” is gone.
The husband decided the only way to actively manage the situation—the only way to control the relationship back into bloom—was for both of them to check-in at a fat farm he found in Dallas and lose thirty pounds in thirty days. What could possibly go wrong with such a grace-less mandate?
Two days into becoming gorgeous it all fell apart. At the morning weigh-in, they’d both actually gained weight. So, they bolted. This is a true story. They took a taxi to the Mansion on turtle Creek, ended up eating room service for a week and had to go to Neiman Marcus at North Park for a whole new wardrobe before they came home.
Have you ever come face to face with the fact that a huge part of our behavior—a huge part of life itself— is a big, fat coping mechanism—cover for what Eugene Peterson calls “the sheer quantity of wreckage around us – wrecked bodies, wrecked marriages, wrecked careers, wrecked plans, wrecked families.”
Judas copes poorly. But he used to be different. Originally, he was a grace junkie.
But, it changed somewhere along the way. Judas became convinced that the grace he received wasn’t enough, and he needed to bottle it up and control things. He tried to domesticate grace; he tried to make it efficient. And grace died – it packed up and moved out. And it ultimately cost Judas his soul.
I’m not against efficiency in the workplace (it’s great at airports and train stations and so on), but it kills relationships, because love and grace and mercy are meant to be poured out, not regulated.
I think the real problem with the gospel of grace – yes, the real problem – is this: God really and truly and infinitely loves us more than we could ever want or wish, and we have no clue how to handle such earth-shattering good news.
This entire Lenten experience has been all about learning how to handle and respond to the good news of Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with the Father and Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Charleston D. Wilson
Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota Florida
5th Sunday of Lent
7 April 2019