On Turning Towards
April 6, 2025
Traceymay Kalvaitis
Isaiah 43:18-19
Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
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.”
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Today’s sermon is titled On Turning Towards. It is nearly impossible to imagine the speed at which we are moving through the universe, even as we seem to be sitting still. Here in New Hampshire, on the 42 parallel, we are spinning about 1100 miles an hour. If that sounds fast, consider that as we spin we are traveling around the sun at a speed of 67,000 miles an hour. We are always moving; we are always turning towards something.
As a church community, we are turning towards Easter. Easter is a time when the power of love is colliding with the power of empire. Easter is a time when the power of love is overcoming the power of death. If we are to learn all we can from what this ancient mystery of Easter has to offer us, then we must not only consider Jesus’s death on the cross and his resurrection; we must consider why Jesus was such a threat, why his message and his healings were so unsettling to those in positions of authority.
Let’s begin with where we are, here and now. We are in the fifth week of the season of Lententide. Next Sunday will be Palm Sunday when we remember Jesus entering Jerusalem for the final time and the following Sunday will be Easter. Easter is the only high holy day in our tradition that is based on the movement of our earth, our star the sun, and our moon. Easter is always the first Sunday after the full moon that follows Spring Equinox. Equinox has passed and the full moon in April is next Saturday, April 12th. The year is 2025 and we are living through the greatest experiment of democracy the world has ever known. This is an important context to keep in mind because we have come a long way in the past two thousand years in establishing a system of governance that reflects so much of Jesus’s teachings, teachings that call for individuals to turn toward our higher calling as children of God, to bring about God’s kindom on earth, to care for one another, to resist the lure of wealth and power when it comes at the expense of one’s own soul. Only in a democracy, only in a representative government can people retain the power to govern. Only in a democracy can people avoid the tyranny of empire that influenced so many of Jesus’s teachings.
Friends, we are always turning towards something. There are times when we can look forward into the future with joyful anticipation and there are other times we would rather stop the world and get off, if that were an option. In our reading for today, from the book of John, there is no joyful anticipation about what the future holds. The future looks ominous and foreboding because Jesus has done something that no one can explain, not then and not now.
Jesus was on the far side of the Jordan river when news reached him that his dear friend Lazarus was gravely ill. Lazarus is the brother of Mary and Martha, also Jesus’s dear friends. Lazarus, Mary and Martha all live in Bethany, a village in Judea, just outside of Jerusalem. Jesus’s disciples thought he would go at once to tend to his friend Lazarus, but the scriptures say “Jesus remained where he was for two days” before he turned toward Judea, to the village of Bethany, to override the power of one of humankind’s greatest fears, death. By the time Jesus arrived, Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days already and his sisters were very upset that Jesus had not come earlier. After weeping at the tomb, Jesus commanded “Lazarus, come out!” The scriptures say Lazarus stumbled out of the tomb, still wrapped in his burial cloths.
The news spread rapidly through a society that was already charged with the upcoming celebration of Passover, one of the most significant times in the life of every faithful devotee of Judaism. Passover is a time to celebrate and remember God’s goodness and protection of the Hebrew people and it drew people to the temple in Jerusalem from all over the region. The occupying Roman forces had called in extra military reinforcements to prepare for the throngs of people coming into the walled city. In the previous chapter of John, we read, “The chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the council and said, ‘What are we to do? This man [Jesus] is performing many signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him and the Romans will destroy both our holy place and our nation’…so from that day on they planned to put him to death.” Into this charged atmosphere, Jesus chooses to return to visit the home of sisters Martha, Mary, and their brother Lazarus, recently returned to them from his tomb.
The scene we are presented with, in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, is characterized by two opposing figures, Mary and Judas. In one figure, Mary, we find the embodiment of devotion and unflinching faith, sparing nothing in what was viewed as an extravagant sacrificial offering of valuable oil from the Himalayan mountains, a pound of nard worth a year’s wages. In an action of heartbreaking tenderness, Mary anoints Jesus’s feet and uses her hair to wipe them. Her actions speak volumes. Her actions confirm that she believes what Jesus has been telling his followers over and over, that he will soon die. Mary is the only one of Jesus’s followers who turns toward the direction Jesus is heading. Her actions confirm that no possession, even one of great monetary value, is to be spared in offering honor and devotion to her teacher; even her own hair she uses as a gift meant to be given, a gift of Self in service to the Divine. In the other figure, Judas, we find an onlooker who is not part of this intimate exchange. He is looking in from the outside. Judas is about to hand Jesus over to the Roman authorities. Judas is turning away from the love Jesus embodies. Judas judges Mary’s act of devotion as too extravagant. “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” Jesus replies, “Leave her alone. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
Friends, as we look ahead to once again re-live the events of Jesus’s death and resurrection, we would be served to remember Mary, kneeling on the floor, offering a gift of great value, and offering her devotion in a gesture sublime, with heart-breaking tenderness. We would be served to remember Mary and what she was willing to give because we are soon called to once again ask ourselves, “How could Jesus willingly offer his life?” The portrayal of Mary can help us to imagine a love so complete that it compelled Jesus to give himself completely, extravagantly, sparing nothing, sacrificing all, as he turned toward persecution and a brutal death at the hand of the Empire to prove that there is a power greater than empire, greater even than death; that power is love…that power is God. Jesus knows it. Mary knows it. The question is, do we?
We would be served to consider to what and to whom we turn towards with our devotion, our love, our allegiance. As followers of Christ, as citizens of a fragile democracy, as family members, church members, and community members, how much are we guided by our fear and how much are we guided by our love? We live in a world that is in constant motion; that, we can not change. But we can choose what we turn toward. Jesus made his choice; Mary made hers.
In closing, I offer my gratitude for this ancient story that calls us to turn, with devotion, toward love, for it is in the giving and receiving of love that we become one with God, in true Communion. So be it. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer
God of morning and God of night, draw us closer to the place within us where Your love is all there is. Remove the illusion that we are separate from one another. Empower us to raise our voices for those whose voices have been silenced. As we remember our brothers and sisters in despair, help us to bear the weight of empathy and compassion as we share in their despair. May we be even more grateful for the liberty we enjoy. Strengthen us to live in this world we love and to remain centered within you, where all goodness, compassion and love find their source. This I pray in Christ’s name. Amen.
Benediction
I leave you with these words from Ephesians chapter 5: “Walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Walk in the way of love. Amen.