Lent 5C
April 3, 2022
Good Shepherd, Wells, MN
John 12.1-8
Like you, I don’t remember a lot of sermons, especially from 25+ years ago. But I do remember one that a seminary professor preached, or at least a phrase from it, “the sweet, sweet smell of death.” If I remember correctly, he was reflecting on his aunt’s funeral and was struck by a particular aroma surrounding it. Now, I don’t remember the scripture text or the rest of the sermon, but that phrase has stuck with me all these years. One thing I’ve noticed when reading novels is that the good writers vividly describe the smell of places in addition to other descriptions of the scene.
Gospel author John is a good writer, and smell permeates our Gospel reading today and the smell of death is in, around, and through it. In an inexplicable and extravagant act, Mary anoints Jesus’ feet, but it is Judas who raises a bigger stink. John packs a lot into these eight verses, creating several questions we don’t have time for today. But, given the context, I believe John is foreshadowing Jesus’ death. In the previous chapter, Jesus has raised Mary’s brother, Lazarus, from the dead. (Interestingly, Lazarus’ sister, Martha, objects to the stone being rolled away from the tomb exclaiming that, “already there is a stench”). This act results in a plot by the religious leaders to kill Jesus. Then, following this story, there is also a plot to kill Lazarus, because people were flocking to Jesus after seeing his power to raise the dead.
Lent is a time for us to reflect on the meaning of Jesus’ death and, by extension, our own mortality. In the midst of life, we are routinely confronted with death near and far. No one has gone untouched by death from Covid. The war in Ukraine is front and center in the news daily. Natural disasters are rife and frequently result in deaths. Even so, we Christians are an odd bunch because it is in the midst of death that we think about life. That doesn’t mean we gloss over death or minimize its impact on us. If anything, it means we can sit with death like Mary does.
Kim and Mike were both in their early 50s when Mike succumbed to cancer. Understandably, it was devastating for Kim and her two daughters, both on the verge of womanhood. For a long time, Kim declined to get rid of Mike’s things. Instead, she would regularly go into his closet, sit among his things, and inhale the scent from his clothes. It was the sweet smell of death for her. Aromas elicit strong emotions within us, and this was one way Kim’s love for Mike was sustained. It was by entering deeply into the smell of death that Kim was able to grieve and continue to live in the midst of death.
It could be argued that using expensive nard covers up death and ignores its pain. But I think that Mary’s act of love and devotion does just the opposite. It both acknowledges death and prepares for it. You see, nard doesn’t have the perfume-y aroma we assume from the text. Rather, it’s a very pungent, forceful smell. One of my colleagues said it smelled like an aquarium. So, when Mary anoints Jesus and wipes it with her hair, that scent would have remained on her for quite some time, probably through the next week as Jesus is tried, tortured, and crucified. The sweet smell of death clung to her as it did to Jesus.
I’m encouraging you to sit deeply with death just as Mary and Kim did, as we enter Holy Week. Beginning with Palm Sunday, we’ll hear about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and smell the palm branches and sweaty crowds. On Maundy Thursday, Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples, we’ll witness the stripping of the altar in remembrance of his brutal treatment. Finally, on Good Friday as we bear witness to Jesus’ death on the cross, smelling the palpable grief of his dearest friends. As you make this journey, take a deep breath and inhale the sweet smell of death that brings us life. Amen.
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