#38: Friday, 3 April, 2020.

Friday, 3 April              The Messiah Claims His Kingdom on Earth.      Matt. 26:1–16

I am struck by the humanity of this long narrative, that goes for 56 verses in total. When I first sat down to read it, I couldn’t put it down. The narrative just dragged me along. But I’ve divided it into four separate days for these reflections 

The people in these events all act in such deeply human, often flawed ways. They remind me of me. 

And Jesus is so deeply human in this chapter, too. It’s as though he is gradually setting aside his divinity and letting his humanity show through all the more clearly. He is, at turns, sad, wistful, fearful, disappointed, dejected, apprehensive, questioning, even.

And then there’s the sheer malevolence, the naked wickedness of the religious leaders – those who were the shepherds of Israel, the keepers of the Holy Scrolls and the Temple rituals. 

The plotting, the scheming, the political destruction that these men practise – I’ve seen that in my own life’s journey, and been on the wrong end of it more than once. It’s frightening. Terrifying. 

But then there is also the smarmy self-protection disguised almost as holiness: they conspired to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him. But they said, "Not during the [Passover] festival, or there may be a riot among the people"  (v5–6).

Matthew (through the Holy Spirit) has placed the lovely story of Jesus being anointed by Mary in the home of Simon the Leper. We assume that Simon was no longer a leper, since Jesus was his houseguest! Hooray for Simon! This was Jesus’ farewell BBQ party (roast lamb for the Lamb of God!), and many of his closest friends were there. 

Nobody really understood what was going on. But Mary, with her woman’s intuition, or the guidance of the Holy Spirit, or both most probably because the Spirit always works though our ordinary human gifts and learning and effort, poured very expensive ointment over him. Jesus observed that she had done it to prepare his body for burial. How did that go down, I wonder, in that solemn, apprehensive gathering?

The scandal of the extravagance made nearly everyone indignant. After all, none of them was wealthy; they were just poor, peasant folk. The disciples thought the perfume should have been commodified and the profits given to the poor. Jesus did not seem to share that view. 

I am suddenly struck with the thought: Have I ever done anything for him so rashly and extravagantly just because I love him? If not, why not? I know the answer to my question, but I'm embarrassed by it, and I wish I hadn’t thought to ask it.

What was the conversation like among Mary, Martha and Lazarus as they walked home that night? How well did each of them sleep? Where did Mary get the perfume from? Was it actually hers, or was it a family possession? If my love for Jesus doesn’t create an occasional family issue among those with whom I live, perhaps there’s another problem?

We are left with the clear impression that the thing that finally turned Judas into a traitor was this extravagant gift that he perceived Mary had ‘wasted’ on Jesus. John tells us (John 12:6) that Judas was a thief who often helped himself out of the common purse, of which he was the treasurer. He must have seethed with rage at the thought of what he had missed out on, in cold hard cash from Mary’s ‘stupid extravagance’ 

So much wealth scattered and frittered away for nothing! Judas hated grace. 

He seemed quite unaware of the profligate carelessness of God in scattering precious gems and gold around the earth. Hiding them under rocks so we could play Finders Keepers. Or the way in which God allowed all that gold, silver, and precious gems in the Old Testament temple just to be looted by the Babylonians. As though all that saved-up wealth didn’t matter one bit. God doesn’t seem to care as much about money and wealth as we do. Perhaps he knows something that we should learn, too, about what really matters in life. 

Perhaps we all need to develop more of a divine carelessness towards money. Less fawning admiration for those who have lots of it. Less daydreaming about winning the Lotto. And more imagination for what we could do for the kingdom if we really knew that God could create the necessary funds as easily as chucking a fishing line in the lake.

Well, this wasn’t the first religious group to be split apart over money. No wonder Jesus said that you can't worship both God and Mammon. One is all grace and the other is all consumption. One is all generous giving and the other is all grasping greed.

Mammon is money hoarded and gloated over; money spent in selfish pursuit of pleasure and excess. Mammon is the medium of fashion and furniture catalogues and luxury holidays. 

Money is the medium of garden supplies, essential clothing purchases, grocery shopping lists and generous gifts to those who are in need. God can easily accept the friendship of money – he used it freely himself. But Mammon is a false God, an idol, a usurper standing on holy ground refusing to take off its designer sandals. 

I spend a lot of money (by global standards) on my own and my family’s needs and comforts. 

How often do I fling my wealth carelessly on some extravagance of love for Him who gave his life for me? Who in the wide, wide world might benefit if I did?

Prayer:  Lord Jesus Christ, I confess that I have too often been mean in my life with you. Mean? No, that’s too kind. I’ve been parsimonious! Stingy! Miserly! Selfish! Help me, please, to become extravagant in love towards you. Both with my money, and with my daily self. 

Help me to be able to gladly fling my wealth with carefree gaiety upon those who need it most. (I would really like to mean this prayer sincerely, Lord; forgive me for the little voice in my head that is saying something like: Lord, make me holy, but not yet!) Amen.