Mary of Bethany - Paragon of Devotion (Sept 22)

Readings, Luke 10: 38-42 and John 12:1-8
 
In 1973 the National Gallery of Australia purchased Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles, for A$1.3 million dollars. At the time, this was the highest price paid for any American work of art, and the most spent by an Australian gallery on a single work. As you can see from the headline above, it wasn’t a universally celebrated purchase. Conservatives decried this as an out-of-touch extravagance – a small fortune for some drips and drops. While some progressives grumbled that the new gallery should prioritise purchases from Australian artists.
 
Over time, however, the purchase proved popular. It is the most viewed piece in the gallery, and is now valued at something like $500million. Interestingly, in 2016, when its worth was appraised at a mere $350M, Victorian Liberal Senator James Paterson suggested selling it to pay down the national debt. A call widely decried even by members of his own party, reflecting the paintings contemporary status as a national treasure. However, even if this shift in opinion were not the case, the controversy points to the tension that can emerge when efficiency is played against aesthetics, when an experience of beauty is asked to justify itself in economic categories. 
 
Twice a devotional act of Mary of Bethany is challenged by someone invoking the language of practicality and economy. Her decision to sit at Jesus’ feet, awash in his wisdom, is challenged by her sister Martha who insists that her presence would be more impactful in service and hospitality. Then, Mary’s decision to lavish Jesus’ feet with perfume is challenged by Judas, who insists that her present would be more impactful as charity to the poor.
 
Putting aside Judas’ intentions, which were not entirely philanthropic, what is interesting about these tensions is that they are not black and white, not clear cut good and bad. For the scene with Martha follows the parable of the Good Samaritan which contrasts the apathy of religious leaders, with the hospitality and care of the Samaritan. Martha is performing the very act of welcome that the disciples and Jesus rely upon in their mission. She is a forerunner to the diaconal ministry established in the book of Acts. In short, she is doing what has already and will continue to be celebrated as the proper posture of a follower of Jesus.
 
Similarly, across the teachings of Jesus his urging of the wealthy to give what they have to the poor are legion, the commendation of the widow’s offering is prominent, and the way into the kingdom of heaven for the rich is poetically narrow. So, the instinct to redistribute to the poor what is undoubtably a luxury is hardly unchristian. It is the very attitude which will mark the idyllic picture of the early church where all things are held in common.
 
And yet, in both scenes, Jesus defends Mary. Her acts of devotion are applauded for displaying proper understanding of what is before her; that is, a proper vision of Jesus. To Martha, Jesus commends Mary’s capacity to see the one amidst the many, the better among the good. To Judas, Jesus commends Mary’s capacity to see the end amidst the middle, to cling close while time remains. Mary of Bethany is exemplary in these scenes not because devotion is always preferrable to service, nor is lavish ritual always privileged over charity. All of these are Christian virtues. No, Mary is exemplary for her ability to see what is required; an ability all the more precious given the ire (then, as now) that can be poured out on those who choose the less efficient, measurable, or immediate of these Christian virtues.
 
For today, perhaps more than any other era in the church (or, to modify that a little… more than any recent era in the western church) the decision to pour resources on either quiet or lavish devotion will quickly draw detractors. The decision to sit and listen, ponder and wonder, reflect and consider without being able to demonstrate the utility and purpose of such an act is already suspect and often diagnosed as naval gazing or speculative distraction… how much more so when there are meals to prepare and guests to welcome? So too the direction of resources to lavish and extravagant ritual and worship is already quickly met with cries of decadence and irresponsibility… how much more so when there are the hungry to be fed and the unhoused to be sheltered?
 
And yet as so profoundly put in the opening question of the Westminster Catechism, which asks (in the unfortunately gendered language of the time):
What is the chief end of man?
Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.
Quiet and lavish acts of devotion, such as those displayed by Mary, are indispensable means by which we glorify and enjoy God. They are indispensable from the life of the believer; indeed, they are indispensable from life. Even and especially in times such as these we need to empower and celebrate the quiet and the beautiful, the abundant and the meditative, the superfluous and the pretty. We shall not live by bread alone, but roses too.
 
Mary’s anointing of Jesus is an act of wanton abandon. She pours out an entire bottle of this most expensive perfume such that the fragrance fills the house. And as intense as this would have been, fragrances (even those as elaborate as this) fade. Over time the more mundane scents of the daily household would return, and no trace of this moment would be left. Hardly and effective or efficient act, entirely unable to be preserved or replicated. And yet we know that there is a profound link between the olfactory and memory. And so the act lives on, repeating itself through sense and memory. Indeed, in Mark’s version of this story, the virtue of the lavishness of this act of devotion is explicitly entrusted to the memory of the church, as Jesus decrees: wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.
 
And so today we remember Mary of Bethany, and learn from her example to see when the time is right for acts of quiet and lavish devotion even when there are legitimate needs at our door. In doing so we give thanks for Christians across the life of the church who have similarly turned their attention, time, and passions to bequeathing to the church beautiful, lavish, and superfluous things: music, gardens, art, fabrics, and rituals. And, at the same time, we lament that too often the inequalities in society and the church have prohibited so many from being able to glorify and enjoy God in quiet and abundant ways. We lament most acutely that so many of the beautiful and sublime gifts the church inherits were built with so much stolen labour, with so many stolen resources, and on so much stolen land.   
 
And yet we do nothing to redress this past if our response to such irreparable history is to give over completely to the vision of economic efficiency and pragmatic programming. What is needed instead is to order our lives together so that that chief end of humanity might be pursued by all. To say it another way, we learn to make room for ourselves and each other to see when it is time to simply sit at Christ’s feet in quiet adulation, or when it is time to pour out our gifts on Christ’s feet in lavish appreciation. There will always be more chances to serve and welcome weary travellers, to generously give to those in need. But if we clamp down and criticise every act of devotion that cannot quickly demonstrate its utility and impact, then we not only stifle the ways we might – in the present – glorify and enjoy God, but we rob the church to come of those wonderful gifts that might appear irresponsible, just drips and drops, but come to be received in the church’s memory as fragrances filling our rooms as signposts of the joy and wonder that come when we sit in the presence of Christ.