Christ the King-Epiphany, Wilbraham

The Rev. Martha S. Sipe

April 6, 2025 / Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12:1-8

I’m currently reading a book called On Looking, by Alexandra Horowitz.  Horowitz is a professor at Barnard College of Columbia University, and she is perhaps best known for her books on dogs.  But this book shows us how to see things that we ordinarily overlook, either because we’re busy, or distracted, or just lost in our own thoughts.  On Looking explores the idea that we all see things differently – and with different degrees of perception.  To research her book, the author walked around her Manhattan block with different people, including a geologist, a naturalist, a blind woman, a sound designer, a doctor, and her own toddler.  What she learned was that most of us would be surprised at what remains hidden in plain sight – the things that we just don’t see because we’re not paying attention.  For example, the blind woman was keenly aware of her environment by sound cues that the author didn’t even hear until they were pointed out to her.  The geologist pointed out prehistoric markings in the limestone used to build apartment buildings.  And the toddler – the toddler noticed everything!  Now it’s not a critical life-skill, perhaps, to be super-conscious of all the details of a walk around the block.  In fact, we would never get anything done if we were always paying attention to every tiny detail about our environment.  We’ve learned to filter out the things that don’t have an impact on us.  But this book raises an important question for me and for all of us, I believe:  What are all the important things that we miss in any given moment because we’re distracted, or deep in our thoughts, or just not paying attention?

Judas, it appears, missed a few cues in his environment.  There were some things happening in plain sight that he either missed seeing, or dismissed as irrelevant.  What he saw was Jesus, reclining at the table hosted by Lazarus, the man Jesus had just raised from the dead.  What he saw was Martha, Lazarus’ one sister, appropriately serving the men at table.  What he also saw was Mary, Lazarus’ other sister, engaged in strange and inappropriate behavior – anointing Jesus’ feet with lots of expensive perfume, and then wiping his feet with her hair.  And honestly, isn’t that what we see, too?  Even by modern standards, when we are much less modest about our bodies, there is something unseemly about a woman handling and perfuming a man’s feet and then using her loosened hair to dry them off.  Judas sputters his indignation about the extravagance, cloaking it in the moral argument that the money spent on the perfume would have been better spent on helping the poor.  But the Gospel helps the reader to see that his indignation is less about morality than it is about his greed.  And yet Jesus interprets Mary’s actions as holy and righteous – meant to care for the body that would soon be broken on the cross, just as he had predicted.

How did Judas miss the significance of Mary’s actions?   Was he distracted by his desire to manipulate the situation to his own benefit, his desire to fatten up the common purse so that he could steal from it?  Was he deep in his own thoughts, even then planning how he would betray Jesus?  Or was he just not paying attention to the gratitude that must have filled Mary’s eyes as she knelt at the feet of the one who had brought her brother from the dead?  Not comprehending Mary’s love which was as pure as the perfume with which she poured on Jesus’ feet?  Not seeing the worship appropriately enacted toward the Son of God? 

But before I hiss and boo at Judas for his villainy, I have to pause to think about why he missed the cues.  In this book that I am reading, On Looking, the author notes that our life experiences can determine what we pay attention to.  That’s why, as she walked around her Manhattan block with a doctor, he doctor noticed people’s illnesses by the pallor of their skin and their gait.  He had spent a lifetime paying attention to sick people.  The naturalist noticed animal habitats, even in the midst of a city block because that was his area of expertise.  And in our biblical story, while both Mary and Judas had spent time with Jesus, it was Mary, not Judas, who had had deep, personal experiences with him.  She had previously heard Jesus praising her for focusing on the important things, even while he gently scolding her sister, Martha, for her distraction.  She had felt, in a deep and personal way, the love that Jesus had for her brother, love so strong that it caused him to weep for Lazarus’ death.  She had seen, with her own eyes, the power of Jesus, as he called Lazarus out of the tomb.  Mary had expert eyes at seeing who Jesus really was and what he deserved because she had experienced his mighty power and deep love in a personal way.

And so have we, friends.  We, too, have seen Jesus’ power and love in the pages of the Bible.  We have felt his power and love in the water of the font.  We have tasted the power of forgiveness and the depth of his love in bread and wine.  And we receive that sustaining power and supporting love from this community, the body of Christ.  We, like Mary, have expert eyes when it comes to seeing Jesus.  

But do we see Jesus in other places where he may be hidden in plain sight?  Do we see him in the person with whom we disagree?  Do we see his face in the face of the immigrant?  And the ICE agent?  And the protester?  And the counter-protester?  Do we recognize his broken body in the bodies of those whom our government would break by terminating programs designed to help?  We can be like Judas – distracted by our own self-interest, deceived by our own self-righteousness, or just not paying attention.  Or we can be like Mary – seeing Jesus for who he is, seeing Jesus where he is, and loving him without reservation, without distraction, with whole-hearted devotion.  

Lord, help us to be like Mary:  seeing you and serving you with devotion, so that this house may be filled with the fragrance of your love.