St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL
John 12:1-8
Several years ago,
I heard an Episcopal priest named Becca Stevens
talk about what it’s like to raise children . . .
to raise them,
to watch them,
to learn them,
and to know them.
As many of you know from firsthand experience,
bringing a child into the world
means welcoming a stranger.
We never know who this child will be—
what they’ll look like,
how they’ll act,
where they’ll go.
And so, when we do bring a child into this world,
most of us cannot help but stand there
in wonder, fear, mystery, and awe
as we begin to learn who they are.
It was exactly this sort of wonder
I heard in Becca’s voice
as she talked about her own children.
She said, “I remember after my children’s births,
learning the details of each child
as I held them and watched them
sleep, eat, and play.
“I knew all the patterns of their freckles;
the sweet baby fuzz on each earlobe;
the birth mark on the inside of a thumb;
and the arch on the left eyebrow.
“When it came to my children,
I knew every curve,
every dimple,
every detail.
“This,” she said, “must be what adoration is like.
Part of how we show adoration and love
is to sit in silence and learn the details.”
Adoration.
When was the last time you actually sat down
and thought about what it means
to “adore” someone or something?
When was the last time you allowed yourself
to sit and “adore” God?
Not talk to God;
not bargain with God;
not petition God;
not try to get something out of God;
but adore God?
When was the last time you,
like Becca with her newborn children,
actually held God and sought to learn
every curve,
every dimple,
every detail of who God is?
* * *
To me, adoration can be the hardest form of prayer.
It’s not like the others; the others are easy.
Confession, thanksgiving, intercession, petition—
these come naturally
and can be done
in a variety of styles and approaches.
But adoration?
That is the hardest kind of prayer
because to our goal-oriented minds
and our self-centered hearts,
it can seem like a waste:
a waste of time,
a waste of energy,
a waste of resources
to just sit there and love God
simply for the sake of it.
But when that’s the mentality we carry,
we’re missing the whole point.
* * *
In today’s Gospel lesson,
Judas definitely misses the point,
for adoration is exactly what Mary is doing in this story.
In the last week of Jesus’ life,
they were all sitting in Lazarus’ house
when Mary breaks open her jar of oily perfume
and anoints Jesus’ feet,
using her own hair as a washcloth.
Whenever I encounter this story,
I always think of Becca,
because just as Becca
sat close to her children in their earliest days
and learned every curve and ripple of their tender flesh,
Mary was doing the same with Jesus.
She sat close to her Lord in his final days,
touched the curves and ripples of his feet,
and learned the details of her Lord and friend,
Jesus of Nazareth.
This was adoration and wastefulness in its purest form,
and what a wonderful waste it was.
During all of this,
Judas interrupts and says
the perfume in Mary’s hands
could have been sold for 300 denarii,
which amounts to something like $6,000.
They say it was like nine month’s wages back then.
Judas sees this wastefulness and tries to stop her,
but Jesus says no.
“You always have the poor with you,” he says,
“but you do not always have me.”
In other words,
there are always a thousand reasons
not to waste your resources,
not to waste your energy,
not to waste your time.
But when it comes to loving the living God,
perhaps a good waste of time
is exactly what you need.
* * *
One of my dear friends Jeff is also a priest,
and he told me years ago about making a hospital visit
where he went into the ICU
and found his parishioner fast asleep.
He didn’t dare wake her
since he knew she desperately needed the rest,
but somehow in that moment
amid her snores and all the beeping machines,
he realized how badly he needed some rest, too.
So what did he do?
He sat and prayed.
For forty-five minutes,
he sat in God’s presence . . .
sometimes praying for his parishioner,
sometimes praying for others,
but mostly just sitting and loving God.
We both agreed that while
many would have called that a waste of time—
that he should have gone on from there
and worked more,
done more,
accomplished more—
it was probably the most important thing
he did all week.
* * *
Friends, embedded in today’s gospel story
is an invitation to you,
one that comes just at the right time
as we prepare to embark on Holy Week.
Next Sunday is Palm Sunday,
the day that marks the beginning of Holy Week.
Here at St. John’s we offer services
from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday:
Our big service Palm Sunday service
that starts out on Call Street
in which we join the people of Jerusalem
as they welcome the King of Kings.
The pivotal and dramatic Maundy Thursday service
on Thursday evening here in the sanctuary.
The solemn noonday service of Good Friday
and our evening Stations of the Cross.
And, of course,
the worship service to end all worship services,
the queen of seasons,
the jewel of the year,
the crown of our earthly worship,
the earthquake of the resurrection:
our Great Vigil of Easter
right here at 6:30 p.m.
on Saturday night.
It’s ALL in the Lenten Guide,
which you can find at all the exits
and take home with you.
It is a full week.
It is a quiet week.
And to many looking in from the outside,
it is a wasteful week
because it is a week in which
the whole point
is to set everything else aside . . .
and adore God.
Just like Becca with her newborn children . . .
just like Jeff in his parishioner’s ICU room . . .
just like Mary at her master’s feet . . .
this is your time to come sit and learn
every freckle,
every curve,
every dimple,
every detail
of the God who made you
and loves you more than you can imagine.
So come with us.
Prepare your heart for Holy Week,
and beginning Palm Sunday,
come . . . and waste your time.
Amen.