Hospitality
Hospitality
John 12:1-8
1. Hospitality
They people were looking for Jesus and asking, “What do you think? Surely he will not come to the festival of Passover will he?” (11:56). Given the opposition they would assume Jesus would keep a safe distance. But he surprises them and his appearance draws large crowds. Jesus travels to Jerusalem consciously accepting the death that he knows awaits him.
But first he stops by the home of Lazarus whose resurrection occurred a chapter earlier. Jesus is close to this family. The siblings host dinner for Jesus. Martha provides food, Lazarus is at the table, and Mary anoints the feet of Jesus. She opens the bottle of perfume amid the rising aroma of betrayal, jealousy and looming violence. A moment of stillness and gratitude amid a gathering storm. An outpouring of worship amid the onslaught of hatred. Six days before Passover Mary lets down her hair, kneels down in front of Jesus, holding a bottle of oil worth a whole year’s wages. She pours the costly oil on his feet and wipes his feet with her hair. Maybe she knows her friend will not be with them long. She is well aware of the hostilities rising and how they are plotting not only to kill Jesus, but also her own brother. Anointing is an ancient custom used for healing, setting someone apart, imparting holy power and care upon another.
Here we see Mary’s courage. An example of uncalculating love. She doesn’t simply respond to a need that is expressed; she actually anticipates Jesus’ need. She foreshadows what Jesus does in the the footwashing of his disciples (John 13). Jesus washes the feet of his disciples as he tells them to do the same for others. She does it before Jesus even teaches it.
We have here an extravagant gesture of welcome, hospitality and gratitude. She gives from what she has at the moment, without worrying that it’s not good enough and without waiting for a so-called “more opportune” time.
Letter from Birmingham Jail.
The 12 ounces of perfume is generous but what matters most is that she gives of herself. Her offering is costly, pure and so abundant that the entire room is filled with the frangrance. It costs financially and it costs personally. God’s hospitality is no more practical than God’s amazing grace. She opens herself up and makes herself vulnerable and available to another person at risk of being rejected, criticized, or ridiculed for her action – by someone like Judas.
2. Judas
Judas has the same outlook as the prodigal son’s older brother. Why are you throwing a feast for my prodigal brother? Why are you wasting this oil? Why wasn’t this oil sold and the money given to the poor? We are told that he said this not because he cared for the poor but because he was a thief. He was in charge of the box that held their common funds and was more interested in dipping his hand in the treasury for his own purposes than caring for the poor. Right in the face of Mary’s gracious, selfless, generous, daring act of hospitality, Judas tries to kill the moment.
This act of hospitality costs Mary dearly, but it gives life to another. This act of hospitality costs her but she doesn’t count the cost. It costs Judas nothing, yet he’s all about noisy prudence. John Calvin wrote, “Let us beware that we seek not cover for our stinginess under the shadow of prudence.” Playing it safe can be an excuse for lack of generosity.
Is Judas really worried about bad stewardship and neglecting the poor? Or is he balking at getting involved in something that could cost him personally. Judas didn’t care about the poor; he just didn’t like the implications of radical hospitality and what it might cost him personally.
Jesus aligns with Mary standing up to Judas, let her alone. She’s anticipating and honoring the day of my burial.
Think of things in your home or church or life that send stingy, and miserly signals instead of celebratory welcome signals.
All Christian hospitality is rooted in God’s welcome as it has been expressed through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We welcome others because God first welcomed us. This means that our hospitality is way beyond just being nice people. We extend hospitality as a sign of Christ’s presence in the world, the One who longs to gather into one, the dispersed, exhausted, war-torn people of God. So every act of hospitality is rooted in the gospel. It's not simply a random act of kindness. It’s highly intentional and rooted in the welcome of Jesus. It stands clearly against the Russian atrocities in Ukraine. Instead of harming, invading, overtaking, Christian hospitality creates safe space and pure welcome.
First we realize we are welcomed into relationship with God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
Next we receive, relate, and respond to the reconciling work of Jesus. We humbly create a welcoming space in our heart and life for the Savior of the world to dwell (Revelation 3:14-22).
We also extend hospitality to ourselves. We are free to name our resentment, exhaustion, tangle of emotions and accept that’s where we are at. Before God we do not need to hide but are free to be our authentic selves. And in that space of being real, we know we are accepted and loved. Sit with that and allow yourself to breathe and create a welcome for your real life, your true self.
When we can be in that space of grace, we can then create it for others.
It's important to note that Mary’s act of hospitality is conducted in her home with someone she is friends with. It makes me wonder, how hospitable are we to those closest to us. Have you given all kinds of welcome and attention to others, but neglected family?
When we start to nourish the well being of others in our home, in our family, it doesn’t take long to notice opportunities to create welcoming space for those in our neighborhood, work, school, hospital – you name it. We get going feeding those who are hungry, partnering with neighbors, caring for a refugee family. We find ways to be present and hospitable to those whom God has placed in our path.
This might go against the grain of our world today.
So much of life is measured and practical, weighed down by a sense of duty, obligation, and coloring within the lines. What would happen if we would let down our guard enough to allow the Holy Spirit occasionally to sweep aside our hesitancy, our stodgy practicality?
What are we saving ourselves for? Jesus knew that like the bottle of perfume, his precious life would be poured out. And the fragrance of his love and victory would be noticed around the world for all time.
So often we store up precious resources – whether material, spiritual, or emotional – with the intention to use them eventually, yet the activity of saving can itself consume our lives and limit the opportunity for the outpouring of gifts. Our inclination may be to hold back, in fear that sharing the resources means losing them, unaware that some resources can become activated only through wholehearted offering.
Mary’s is a faith-filled outpouring, a gesture of openness rather than of restraint. Her act is not in isolation. It is an inclusive ritual with effects that pervade her Savior, her home and her and neighborhood. These acts will at times meet resistance and occur in a full of tension and danger. Instead of searching for an escape or withdrawing into a privatized faith, we accept this reality and the tensions present as a source for spiritual formation and community action. Systemic forces tear at the fabric of peace and exist within and outside the church. This means that instead of withholding hospitality, hospitality is all the more needed, especially with the Russian atrocities in Ukraine.
As a church, let’s be sure to care for and make space for heartfelt prayerful petitions on behalf of those facing the tragedy of senseless war? Let’s make sure that ministries are shared and people are blessed? Let’s make sure that people are included, safe space is created, and radical hospitality is offered? Let’s be sure to make space for ourselves and our neighbors, pushing through isolating pressures and creating meaningful connections.
John 12:1-8
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (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.) Jesus said, “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.”