Extravagant Worship

Mark 14:1-11

What is the most valuable thing you have? Value is really in the eye of the beholder. One person’s junk is another person’s treasure, right? So for you, what is the most valuable thing you have? If value for you is primarily financial, you might say your house, or a valuable car, or a piece of jewelry, or something else that was expensive.

If sentimental value is more significant to you than financial value, you might say it’s a collection of photos, or a family heirloom that’s been passed down through the generations, or something that belonged to someone you really loved who is no longer here. For some it may be your wedding ring – which could be both financially and sentimentally valuable. What, for you, is the most valuable thing you have?

Jesus and his disciples are in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover and the ensuing Feast of Unleavened Bread. Well, that’s what his disciples think. But Jesus knows that the reason for his coming – his death on the cross for my sin and yours – is quickly approaching. He knows that the moment is drawing near. There’s a sense of foreboding, particularly for those who know how things play out. He’s in Jerusalem, and he will not be leaving. He’s been more confrontational with the religious leaders, and he’s been talking to his disciples about his death, about the destruction of the temple, about his eventual return, which of course means that there will be a departure. Suffice it to say that they’re both concerned and confused.

Now they’re having an evening meal in the home of a man named Simon the leper. Obviously he wasn’t still a leper or he would be living in a leper colony outside the city walls. But he had been at some point. And while they’re having dinner, a woman approaches Jesus and does for him something that reaches the level of extravagance. It’s an act that goes far beyond any normal level of worship or gift giving. She gave the most valuable thing she had ever had, and would ever have. Turn with me to Mark 14:1-11. We’ll start with verses 1-2.

Jerusalem during the Passover was basically a powder keg ready to explode. Passover was the Jewish feast of remembrance and celebration of God’s saving grace in their history, when God used Moses to lead his people out of slavery in Egypt and miraculously through the Red Sea as the Egyptian army pursued them. It’s called Passover because on the night the Jews fled Egypt, the firstborn male of each household in Egypt died, except for those who had marked the door of their house with the blood of a sacrificed lamb. The angel of death “passed over” the homes of those who obeyed God.

Over the centuries, as the Jews lived as exiles in other lands and eventually in their own land under the authority of world powers, now Rome, the Passover came to be a time to remember what God had done in their past AND to hope and pray for God to act miraculously again to deliver them from Roman oppression and set them free.

During the Passover, Jerusalem’s population more than doubled. The city was packed with pilgrims traveling to celebrate Passover in the holy city. Among them were more than a few radicals and rebellion-minded folks who believed God was calling them to rise up and throw off their Roman oppressors. And what better time to do that than when the city was packed with people who could be stirred up into a mob and who were celebrating God’s saving actions on their behalf in the past.

So the Jewish priests, who enjoyed their lives of luxury under Roman rule, were always a little on edge around the Passover, as were the Roman authorities. The governor usually left his capital on the Mediterranean coast in Caesarea and took up residence in Jerusalem for the Passover so that he could monitor things and respond quickly if he needed to.

But the chief priests also wanted to deal with Jesus once and for all. It was now clear that he wasn’t going away and couldn’t be guided or controlled. They knew they needed to get rid of him. They also knew that he was very popular among the common folk, especially those from Galilee, where he had spent quite a bit of time over the past few years. And the Galileans were known for being excitable. If they made a misstep in their scheme to get rid of Jesus, they feared they’d have a riot on their hands. They needed to be stealthy.

And that’s important to understand, because what is about to happen to Jesus, what this woman is about to do for Jesus, points us to his death on the cross. This event is bracketed in Mark’s gospel by the priests’ desire to kill Jesus on one end and Judas’ arrangement to betray Jesus on the other. So let me ask you, how much do you really value what Jesus did for you on the cross? How important is it to you, really? Look at v. 3.

An unnamed woman approaches Jesus while he dines with his disciples and other friends in the home of Simon, who at one time had been a leper. Maybe he’d been healed by Jesus. We don’t know. We just know that he’d been a leper at one point, and now he wasn’t. We know that because he is in his home inside the walls of Jerusalem entertaining guests.

And while they’re enjoying the meal, a woman approached Jesus with an alabaster flask of pure nard and poured it over his head. Seems weird to us, but it was fairly common for people to be anointed, especially respected teachers. But what Mark draws into stark relief is the value of the perfume she anointed Jesus with. Because this wasn’t Stetson or something like that, something you could buy at Meijer, you know, a huge jar for a few bucks. This flask of nard was extremely precious and valuable.

Nard was an aromatic oil extract that came from a root native to India. It had been imported to Palestine at some point. And this was nard in its highly concentrated, pure form. In this form, nard was stored in a small, sealed alabaster flask with a long, thin neck that you had to break to get the nard out. These small jars typically contained about 12 ounces of pure nard.  Normally, before using it, you’d dole it out and dilute it for use as a perfume or anointing oil.

But what Mark emphasizes is the value of that small flask. He says that it was “very costly.” But how costly? Look at v. 4. More than 300 denarii. A single denarius was the daily wage of a common day laborer. So we’re talking about almost a year’s wages for a poor day laborer. The ancient equivalent of $20,000 or so. One person said maybe up to $30,000 by our standards. Matthew tells us that 200 denarii could feed a meal to around 5,000 people, and this little jar of nard was more valuable than that.

We don’t know how this unnamed woman came to possess this invaluable jar of nard, but it’s most likely that it was a family heirloom that had been passed down from mother to daughter through several generations. That would mean that not only did it have extremely high financial value, it also had a lot of sentimental value. It would have come with the story of how her grandmother, or great grandmother, or great great grandmother, had come to possess such a precious thing.

And she poured it over Jesus’ head. It would have dripped down over his entire body, creating a fragrance that would have lasted for a few days. In her mind, she was doing something extravagant for the one who had, in some way, impacted her so much.

Here’s the thing. In that time, anointing with expensive perfumes was an important part of preparing a body for burial. It was done for two reasons: to honor the body of the deceased, and to eliminate odors. So the body was washed and anointed with expensive perfumes like myrrh, nard, and aloes and then wrapped in a shroud. The face was covered with a special cloth called a sudarium, and the hands and feet were tied with strips of cloth. The body was then laid in the cave or sepulcher.

In reality, she was anointing Jesus for burial before he died. Her actions foreshadow the cross. And she anointed him with the most precious thing pretty much anyone could possess.

I love the way Philip Keller described her extravagant act. “The delicious fragrance ran down over his shining hair and thick beard. It enfolded his body with its delightful aroma. Even his tunic and flowing undergarment were drenched with its enduring pungency. Wherever he moved during the ensuing forty-eight hours the perfume would go with him: into the Passover, into the Garden of Gethsemane, into the high priest’s home, into Herod’s hall, into Pilate’s praetorium, into the crude hands of those who cast lots for his clothing at the foot of the cross.”[i]

Jesus went to the cross already anointed for burial. So let me ask you, how precious is the cross, to you? Does our worship, our commitment, our faith in Jesus indicate that we worship one of highest value, who did something of  highest value, or do we cheapen him with empty words and hardened hearts that refuse to be transformed? How do we respond to the precious love of our savior? How do we respond to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?

If you’re sitting here saying, “Wow, maybe my response hasn’t been all that great up to now, don’t worry. The response of his disciples wasn’t all that great either. Look at vv. 4-9.

As the 12 oz of precious nard flows down the body of Jesus, dripping on the floor, its aroma filling the house of Simon the leper, his disciples are indignant. This could have been sold and the money given to feed and house the poor! How dare she waste it like this. But no sooner have they begun to scold her than Jesus stops them, and begins to scold them.

The poor will always be here, and you can help them whenever you want. There was a thinly veiled slap there. It was common to give alms to the poor during the big feasts and festivals and celebrations. Jesus reminds them that they can, and should, give to the poor whenever they can, not just when everyone else is during the Passover. It isn’t just about giving when everyone is in a giving mood. We see the same thing happen every year here. Food pantries are typically pretty well stocked from mid-November through New Years, during a holiday season that begins with gratitude and centers around the birth of Jesus. But the middle of March? Not so much.

He’s actually quoting the first part of Deuteronomy 15:11, which says, “For there will never cease to be poor in the land.” But when Jesus quotes an Old Testament passage, especially from the five books of Moses – which were memorized in the earliest stages of school, stages attended by pretty much everyone – he assumes that they’ll know the entire context, which is what he’s referring to. He’s quoting a part of a passage to remind them of the whole passage.

So here is Deuteronomy 15:4-11.

Um, ouch. What’s he saying? If the people of God were doing their job, the job I’ve commanded them to do, the poor would be cared for and no one would have to beg. Give whenever you can, and take care of the poor around you.

BUT, right now, in this moment, what she has done, anointing me, is the right thing. Why? Because he was heading to the cross, and she was unknowingly foreshadowing it and hinting at the truly priceless value of his death in our place. How valuable is his death to you and I? Does our worship reflect that?

But Jeff, are you talking about giving, or worship? Yes. Our giving is an act of worship. It’s a part of both our individual and corporate worship. It’s something we do both alone and together. You see, faith isn’t just about how you think and what you believe. Oh, it starts there, don’t get me wrong. But if right belief and right thinking don’t lead to transformed living, your belief and thinking are useless. The New Testament letter of James says it this way, “So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (James 2:17).

Now, for us, he has already died, been buried, and risen, so when we give, we give extravagantly so that the people of God can proclaim the good news of Jesus AND care for the poor. Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me” (Matt. 25:40). When we give to the poor, we are doing exactly what this woman did when she anointed Jesus for burial. We are doing it to and for him.

We pay the salaries of those who do the full time work, and we give of both our treasure and our time and talent to join in the work, and we give extravagantly. Not so that we can have fancy buildings, but so that we can pay the people who work full time fairly, proclaim the good news of Jesus, and love the poor.

The disciples didn’t like what she did because it didn’t seem practical to them. It could have done so much more good if it had been given to them to sell. Those of us who have more practical minds need to allow ourselves to be challenged here. Her gift was extravagant.

Just as extravagant as the poor widow who dropped a few coins into the temple collection box in the last verses of Mark 12. Jesus praised her because she gave all that she had to live on. He praised the woman with the alabaster jar of nard because she gave the most valuable thing she possessed. Both felt it. Both lost something. Both had to tighten their belts even more because of their gift.

The woman in the temple gave what could have bought her next meal, not knowing when more money would come to her, or where it would come from. This woman today gave up a family heirloom and something that could have been sold for almost a year’s salary if her family came upon desperate times. It was almost like a savings account for her family. She gave up her security. The woman in the temple had no security. She gave what she had anyway. Jesus honored both equally. It wasn’t the size of the gift that he saw. It was the greatness of trust in God and love for God represented in each gift.

The disciples expressed their disgust at the extravagance of her worship and gift and were scolded by Jesus. But Judas took things a step further. Look at Vv. 10-11. Matthew adds that Judas asked the chief priests, “What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?” (Matt. 26:15).

Judas was with Jesus only for what he could get out of Jesus. He was in it because of what the wisdom and power and occasional popularity of Jesus could do for him. And when he decided he wasn’t getting what he wanted out of Jesus, he got what he could by selling him out. Oh, he’d regret it. But Judas was in it for what he thought Jesus could do for him. Extravagant worship isn’t about what Jesus can do for me. It is about what I can do for Jesus, because of what he’s already done for me.

The cross is more than enough. He doesn’t owe me anything. He didn’t owe me the cross. He took it up willingly, knowing that I might reject him. That you might reject him. That many WOULD reject him. But he took it up of his own volition. He didn’t owe that to me. He did it because I needed it, and because he loves me. Because there’s room for ugly bald men who mess up all the time in heaven. But I don’t deserve it. And he doesn’t owe it to me. He didn’t do it out of obligation. He did it out of love. Because he loves me. And that makes me loveable.

How often do we come to worship saying, “What I need from you today God, is …” Does God touch us and heal and encourage meet our needs when we gather together? Often yes! But that isn’t why we gather. We gather and worship, we gather and give, because he is worthy. He owes us nothing. What he has done for us in Christ he did for no other reason than that he loves us. When we gather in worship, we simply stand in awe of that and say “thanks.” And then we go out and serve with hearts filled not with obligation, but with gratitude. Let’s pray.

[i] W. Phillip Keller, Rabboni: Which Is to Say, Master (Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 1977), 222-223.