I will not always be with you.
Jesus says those words to Judas
while they're in Bethany. The statement comes in response to Judas' critique of
a woman who comes and anoints Jesus with perfume, expensive perfume we're told.
This is, we're told, the last straw for Judas. This is the moment that pushes
him over the edge, sending him off to betray Jesus to the Chief Priests. I
figure he's been looking for an excuse for some time.
Judas' reasons seem good. He feels
like they could have sold that perfume, given it to the poor the needy, the
folks who have found themselves unemployed and struggling to pay the bills.
Nothing wrong with that.
But he's not understanding
something, something that we, too, probably misunderstand. He's trying to think
about the big picture, trying to save the world. He's focused on "the
poor" and "the hungry" and all those other categories people fit
neatly inside.
Jesus draws him back to the
specific.
I keep Pandora playing as I write. This
morning, as I read the story of Jesus' anointing in Bethany the song
"Afterimage" by Rush came on. It begins with the line,
"Suddenly, you were gone from all the lives you left your mark upon."
The late Neal Peart wrote those words in response to the death of a friend who
died unexpected and too young. It was no accident that those words, heard and
read, came together.
Over five-thousand people died of
this plague yesterday, thirteen-hundred in this country alone. Suddenly, they
were gone. All the lives they touched now feel only the fading fingerprint of
their presence. They are only a memory, and anything left undone for them, left
unsaid will remain incomplete and unspoken.
You will not always have me.
In a very basic way, nothing is
different this Holy Week than any other. I am just as mortal this April as I
have been every month of my life. I have no idea how long I have before death
comes for me. I never have.
But this plague has reminded all of
us, I think, how fragile our lives are. We are, as was told to us at the
beginning of this season, only dust that will return to dust. Our times might
be shortened by this virus. We may find ourselves sick, unable to breathe, and taking
our last breath. Worse, those we love dearly may be here and, suddenly, gone.
We will not always have one
another.
The story of Jesus in Bethany isn't
about money, but it is about extravagance. It's about breaking open the
containers we've been saving for some special day and pouring them out upon
those we love. It's saying things in a bold and unashamed way. It's letting our
words and actions pour over those we love, drenching them in their perfume.
Because, we will not always be able to do so.
And we will want to have left our
mark upon those who have marked us.
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