Sermon by Michelle - March 13, 5th Sunday in Lent

What can I give him

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd,

I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man,

I would do my part.

But what I can, I give him,

Give him my heart.

We sang these familiar words at Christmas, the third verse of Christina Rosetti's familiar poem, In the Bleak Midwinter. In this poem, we wonder at the miracle - God was willing to come to earth, to live with us and be subjected to the vagaries of life on Earth. And we wonder, what can we bring to Jesus, to show our gratitude.

Today, less than three months later, we finally have an answer - or, at least, a more practical answer. After all, literally giving Jesus our hearts isn't feasible - most of us are using them right now, and a heart isn't something you can really share.

In today's reading, Mary, the sister of Lazarus and Martha, shows what it means to give her heart. She gives of herself.

Mary has much reason to be grateful to Jesus. Jesus has brought back her brother, Lazarus, from the dead. This is a wonderful miracle, in any circumstance. Generations of preachers have pointed to this as a foretelling of Jesus's own resurrection, and the promise that we, too, will rise from the dead and ascend into heaven. With God, all things are possible, we hear. This is the proof.

In the Bible, we hear of Mary, and her sister Martha, and their brother, the formerly late Lazarus. That's it. The family. No parents, no husbands. Which leads one to believe that there are no parents or husbands. Lazarus was the sole provider for his sisters in a time when women generally did not own property or work. Their vocation was their household - to serve and make their homes hospitable, warm and welcoming for family and guests. They do this well - there are other stories in the Bible of Mary and Martha's hospitality. But, they have no other option, really. Their best hope was at some point to marry - Lazarus their brother would have arranged for that. Then they would go on to start households of their own.But that's not the only reason why Mary was grateful. She was, of course, ecstatic that her beloved brother had been made well. But, I think there was more to it that even that.

However, if Lazarus had died (and remained dead), this option would have gone away. Their property - if the family had any - would likely have been transferred to another male relative, or, if they had retained it, they would have been prohibited from working in the fields, because they were women. Their livelihood would be dependent on uncles or cousins who may not have known or cared about them. With no capital and few options, they would probably have been reduced to begging, or worse. There's a reason the prophets all speak of caring for widows and orphans. When Lazarus died, the prospects for his two unmarried sisters died with him.

And when Lazarus rose from the dead, his sisters' hopes did, too. Mary literally owed Jesus her life, and her future.

How could she repay him? What could she give him?

She gives him the most costly thing she had - the oil she had been saving to anoint the dead, possibly her own brother. She perfumes him, lavishes attention on him, gives him all her love and attention. And more.

She provokes a scandal. Her actions are so shocking, that it becomes part of what identifies her. In John's gospel, long before we read about this incident, we are introduced to Mary as "the one who had anointed the Lord with perfume, and wiped his feet with her hair." She has intruded, she has broken taboos. She has given away her most costly gift - one which might have been part of her dowry for marriage. She has done more. She has touched a man who is not related to her - and touched him in a very intimate way, massaging and rubbing the bare, calloused skin on his feet. This is most inappropriate behavior - at the time, bordering on the indecent. Something like this would have the potential to ruin her reputation, and the reputation of her family. She might be un-marriageable at this point.

There is more. John is the only gospeller to mention this incident, though Luke tells a different story of this family. In Luke's version - which many of us recall - Jesus is busy teaching at the home of his friend Lazarus. Martha is serving the many guests, as a good hostess should. Luke recounts her frustration, as she watches her sister Mary shirk her obligations and all propriety, to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to his instruction. This story also occurs only in one Gospel. Which makes me wonder - why? Is this a sanitized version? Was Martha actually complaining about something more - like her sister touching their male guest? Did Luke clean up the account - saying that Mary was just sitting at Jesus's feet, not cleaning them - to spare the family's reputation? Or does Luke reveal more of Mary's personality? Is she a young, curious woman, eager to find her own way in this new and exciting world? In both stories, she does not seem too worried by the scandal she leaves in her wake.

And Jesus? While everyone else points aghast, Jesus responds in love. In Luke, he reminds Martha that Mary has chosen the better way, by choosing to listen to him. In John, Jesus tells everyone to leave Mary alone. Jesus understands that Mary is being Mary - showing her love and devotion in the best way she knows how. And Jesus does not judge. Unlike the rest of the world, Jesus does not condemn her for her heartfelt gift, suggest she should have done better, or tell her she was inappropriate.

How rare this is! How contrary to society!

I've known church musicians who decried the rise of American Idol, because it devoted so much energy in the early rounds to mocking people's singing. The rise of "reality TV" has spread the idea that our best is never good enough. Countless websites set unattainable goals for home decor, food and hobbies. Today, we feel unloved if we get a simple birthday party with party games and a cake from a mix - why not the homemade rainbow cake on Pinterest, and the magic unicorn hunt advertised online? And, if we should aspire to make the impossible, and fail - well, there are lots of websites to make fun of our efforts, too.

Sometimes, it seems that only wild animals, kittens and toddlers are allowed to be themselves under the watchful eye of society. Only their videos get love - get the comments like "how adorable!" Everyone else needs to improve.

Jesus came to remind us that each of us was created and loved by God - not because we are perfect, but because we are children of God. We praise God by giving our best, and showing our love. We don't need to sing like Pavarotti or Beyonce. We don't need to cook like Julia Child, or decorate like Martha Stewart. We sing with the voice God gave us, and glorify God with our song. We share hospitality with the gifts God gave us, and help make others feel comfortable, fed, and loved. And, when we do it from genuine love of God, we don't care what others say.

Mary's story is not an isolate incident, however. Throughout history, people have responded to Christ's overwhelming and unconditional love with gratitude; and have shown that gratitude by giving what they had, and sometimes by causing scandal in the process. Clare of Assisi - who advanced to the Elate Eight this week in Lent Madness - literally gave her life for Christ in the thirteenth century: refusing to marry the wealthy young man her parents had presumably selected for her, and instead going off to follow St. Francis and live in absolute poverty. When her father arrived to try to take her home, she clung to the altar at her convent, and swore to have no other husband but Christ. Her decision - like that of Francis before her - seemed odd to many at the time. Her legacy, however, lives on, in the religious order she established, and in her inspirational writings.

In contemporary times, this kind of witness persists. I am reminded of the work of Becca Stevens, who glorifies God in her work as an Episcopal priest in Tennessee. Confronted by the plight of drug-addicted prostitutes in her city, she raised millions of dollars to create a home - Magdalene - where they could be safe, loved, and go through detox and therapy. And, when she was done - when the place had been built, and was about to welcome the first class of four women off the streets - modern Judases criticized: couldn't the place have been built less luxuriously, more like a dorm, so more people could be served. And she said no - each person was a beloved child of God, and deserved to be treated as such. Nobody had ever seen them as having value; she saw it. She would remind them that they were loved, and deserved love. Many years later, her model has been copied by dioceses across the country, and the social enterprises she has created with women's communities around the world are proof of her motto - "Love Heals." Of course, Jesus proved it two millennia before.

Jesus calls to all of us, reminding us that we are loved. That God made us to love. And that when we share our gifts in love, they are always acceptable to God.

Jesus reminds us that doing what we are called to do - being who we are called to be - may seem countercultural, today just as in Jesus's time. But, as Mary shows us, it is better to love boldly, than to do nothing at all.

One hundred and thirty years ago, Christina Rosetti wrote a poem celebrating the love of God in the miracle of the Incarnation, and wondering how she could show her thanks. Today, we might respond in a modern, updated verse:

What can we give him,

Fearful as we are,

Bustled about and pressured

That our gifts not be sub-par,

Yet we all our called,

Each to do our part,

To shine forth the light of Christ