4/3/22

The Rev. Dr. David K. McIntosh
Fifth Sunday of Lent (C)
Given at St. Michael’s Church, Litchfield, CT
Isaiah 43. 16-21; Psalm 126; Philippians 3.4-14; John 12.1-8

“You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me” (John 12.8) †

Smells are evocative. Our olfactory senses trigger all kinds of memories, good and bad, that can sometimes transport us back to a time and place from the past. For instance, whenever I smell a particular brand of perfume (Ma Griffe), I immediately think of my mother and my home in Miami, because that particular scent was her! Rudyard Kipling once wrote: “Smells are surer than sounds or sights to make your heart- strings crack.”

Our sense of smell brings forth emotions and memories that are so strong, they transform us. Whenever I smell incense, it makes me think of church growing up; whenever I smell the ocean and beachfront, I recall my first love; whenever I smell balsam and the oils of healing, it makes me think of my ordination when I was anointed. And there are human scents, as well… of sweat-covered bodies, a reminder to me of the many homeless gay teenagers I worked with in South Florida, and the scent of blood or urine, that brings back memories of the many nights I spent as a resident physician, working with sick patients in the hospital. Good and bad, pleasant and not so pleasant, but strong scents that evoke strong memories. So, when I hear this passage, I can’t help but wonder what Jesus must have smelled like… during this event where Mary is pouring out a large and expensive amount of perfume on Jesus’ feet (we are told in Mark 14.5, it was worth 300 denarii, or a year’s wages). Extravagant!

Mary’s act of anointing hints at Jesus’ kingship and his death to come. It was a loving and intimate gift of love, wiping his feet with her hair. And if you consider the fact that the word used here ‘wiped’ (eksemasen) is the same word used later (13.5) when Jesus washes and ‘wipes’ (ekmassoo) the feet of his disciples at the Last Supper. So, Mary’s actions are a prelude to Jesus’ own gift of humble service and expression of love to his disciples. A love he called each of us to give to others, as we’ll recall on Maundy Thursday. What must this have looked like, her bending down and intimately wiping his feet with her hair offering the extravagant gift of perfume and an intimate gift of self-giving? What must it have smelled like? This is something I’ve pondered all week, what did it smell like?

This week, I found myself spending some time with someone in need of help, someone who, shall I say, was less than attractive. He’d been drinking too much and had not bathed in a while. As I met with him, my sense of smell, as triggered by that man, transported me back over 30 years…
I was raised by a Presbyterian father and Roman Catholic mother, and shortly after college, I could not decide if I should pursue ministry in the Church or Medical school. I was given the opportunity to serve at a seminarian intern, living in the rectory of a parish with two priests in Fayetteville, NC. For those who don’t know the town, it is a large city along the I-95 Corridor and hosts two of the largest military bases in our country, Fort Bragg Army Base and Pope Air Force Base. The parish was a very large and busy place and was located directly in the middle of the route between the bases and the interstate. Now the Rector, who was a former Benedictine monk, always insisted that one of us be present at the
Rectory to answer calls and the door for someone in need, because ‘you never knew when Jesus might drop by.’ It was a charming expression, and one that I grew to loath, because itwas usually spouted to prevent me from going out to dinner or a movie with friends. ‘Someone needs to be here, you never know when Jesus will drop by!’

Anyway, on one Easter Sunday evening, after a very busy Holy week full of services and the
2-hour Easter Vigil of that Saturday and 5 services from sunrise until 6 pm (all of which I was responsible for planning, setting up, participating in, and cleaning up afterward), the young priest associate and I found ourselves alone at the rectory. The Rector had been invited out to Lamb Dinner at some parishioner’s home and we were expected to stay at
the rectory, ‘in case Jesus came by.’ I remember it as if it was yesterday. We were eating ham sandwiches in the upstairs den, exhausted from preceding events, when the doorbell rang. I got up to go to the door, as the priest groaned in exasperation. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll get it.’ And I went down to discover someone in need, and then, that the problem was
more than I could handle alone. When I came back, I must have been grinning, because the priest asked, ‘Well, who is it? Tell me! Who’s at the door?’ I responded, ‘It’s Jesus… and he’s drunk!’

This week, my brief meeting and the odors I experienced, reminded me of that night long ago when we went downstairs and helped our visitor. That night over the course of several hours we managed to get him cleaned up, fed, and into a hotel for the night. I will never forget that experience… it was a night I met Jesus! Yes, I was inconvenienced and annoyed,
even whiny. I was tired and had to deal with somebody that seemed to be the cause of all his own problems, and I have no doubt it was Jesus. “Smells are surer that sounds or sights to make your heart-strings break!”

Up until that night, I was always confused by the paradox of the Cross— that is, how can anything good come from suffering and hardship? And the message, from Jesus is very clear: Only in giving do we receive… only by sacrifice do we gain anything… only through death comes life.

It’s interesting, when I’ve talked with other people about faith, I’ve noticed that many Christians insist what matters most is that you believe in Jesus Christ. That is, the conscious doctrinal understanding of Jesus. Yet, in today’s Gospel, we get a different depiction of faith. Faith, as demonstrated by the lovely story we heard of Jesus’ anointing, is rooted in love and
action, not knowledge or creed. To answer to that question I’ve pondered all week, what did it smell like? I guess it smelled like… love.

Listen to that last line of Jesus— “You will always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” I believe what he said was less about predicting the future, than instructing us about the present. I wonder if Jesus isn’t asking us to recognize his presence in the poor and marginalized, in those whom we find less desirable, in those whom we try
to avoid… like that man I met that night so long ago in Fayetteville, or the person I met last week.

I pray we use all of our senses to experience that same evocative, powerful, and costly love of that flowed from Mary so long ago. May we all experience the love of Jesus our Christ and share it with those around us! †