Has anyone seen the new Alice in Wonderland movie yet? I confess I have not, but it’s on the to-do list for this week. My friend and colleague, Rev. Susan Leo, did go to see it. She comments that it is a sequel to the Disney animation of 1951, rather than a remake. Alice, in this movie, is now a young woman, almost an adult. She’s not happy with her options, but isn’t certain of herself, not sure of what she should do, or what she could do. So when she falls down the rabbit hole into Underland, she is older than when she first visited, and also a very different person: less bold, less confident - so much less herself that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter are sure that she’s The Wrong Alice. “You were so much more, muchier then”, the Hatter says, looking sad. “You’ve lost your muchness.”
“You’ve lost your muchness.” It happens doesn’t it? As we get older, exposed to life, we gradually lose our muchness. We’re supposed to tamp our muchness down - we might be considered improper, or misunderstood, or judged too much - we might be judged.
As we look at the story from the Gospel of John today, there are a couple of things for you to hold in your mind.
First, in scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance.
Well, the story today from John is about muchness: the muchness of Mary, the muchness of God, and the judging it provokes.
Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. These three are never identified as official disciples, although I think they were, because although they lived at home, they were friends of Jesus. We don’t know how they became friends, but Jesus was obviously very close to them. It sounds like he had been there often for a breather from the people wanting him. This friendship had just recently been tested. In the story right before this one, Lazarus had become seriously ill. Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come and help, believing that he would make Lazarus well. They believed he could heal Lazarus.
Even after Jesus received the message, he flatly refused to go, and even spent time relaxing by the Jordan River for a couple more days. When he did eventually go, he found himself confronted with anger, accusations of betrayal from the grieving sisters. Moved by their grief, Jesus went to the tomb, and called Lazarus out. The crowd surrounding the tomb that day was amazed. Some went away bewildered, some left filled with wonder and awe. Still others ran off to the Pharisees and told them of what they had seen. Now this would not sit well with the Pharisees - because only a real prophet can raise the dead to life. They would be really angry - just as John paints them in his gospel. Jesus might just be who everyone says he is.
So here we are: a comfortable home, friends eating and relaxing together, just a couple of days after the miraculous thing, and just before Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time - although they don’t know that yet. Relaxing, drinking a little or a lot, talking and laughing. Martha, the older sister and a perfectionist, has put another incredible meal on the table. Mary, the younger sister, the one whose mind is always off in the clouds, sitting near Jesus and just drinking in everything he says. Lazarus, maybe still pinching himself after the ordeal, laughing with Jesus and the gang.
Mary goes to another room for a moment, and comes back with a jar in her hands. She kneels in front of Jesus, opens the jar, scoops out the spicy nard, which has a scent reminiscent of mint and ginseng. She warms it in her hands, and the fragrance fills the whole room. The room goes silent. Mary massages the very expensive perfume into his feet, then lets her hair down, and begins to wipe away the excess.
This is an astonishing and provocative scene. Not only was it totally unexpected, it was outside the acceptable norms of behaviour for a woman; when Mary broke open the jar, she broke a whole pile of taboos. Anoint a man’s head was a symbol of royalty; to pour perfume on a man’s was the action of a slave. A woman might touch the feet of a man to whom she was married, but otherwise not. And a respectable woman would never let down her hair like that.
Judas was the one who spoke. What a waste of money! Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money used to help the poor??? John tells us Judas didn’t care about the poor, he cared about the money. So instead of seeing this action as gratitude and extravagant love, - prodigal love, profligate in is extravagance - he only saw waste. He couldn’t deal with the “muchness” of the whole thing! That oil would, indeed, have fed many poor people for a long time!
Last week's story of the prodigal son brought us a jubilant father pulling out all the stops to celebrate his son’s return, despite conventional wisdom, and the petulance and anger of the other son. The father lives with “muchness”. Mary demonstrates the same kind of extravagant love in this story. It is a story about “muchness” - me’od.
Mary makes us uncomfortable - she is so adoring and driven to give a blessing. Jesus makes us uncomfortable because he is so willing to receive it - we would have expected Jesus to chastise Mary for the waste, wouldn’t we? Judas is just opposed to muchness in any of its manifestations.
Yet here, through Mary the dreamer, is an expression of extravagant love, magnanimous love; lavish love. She offers Jesus an incredible blessing; to give or receive a blessing, is to become vulnerable, revealing more of ourselves, our desire, and our love. We don’t like looking “over the top”. Usually, for us, when we’re given a blessing, we think we don’t really deserve it, we automatically think there must be strings attached somewhere. Who are we to give a blessing to others? So many of us think that. Oh, Im nobody special what do I have to offer anyway?
And unlike Mary, when we give we don’t give out of “muchness”, we give with a poverty of soul. Then, playing the role of Judas, we judge people who are as lavish as Mary, or the overjoyed father in the prodigal son story. This is a story of prodigality and muchness: through Mary, we see the muchness of God. Through a woman, no less, the generosity and extravagance of God is demonstrated. Mary's gift was a prodigal and profligate, incredible blessing, with no regard for propriety, cost, or the fear of being too much. Gods gift of Jesus is an even greater muchness, a large extravagant blessing given without regard for propriety, regulation, cost, or the fear of being too much. God wishes for us to be as much as we are capable of being. God wishes that we stop paying attention to the Judas who would curb our muchness. God wishes us to give with extravagant generosity from those blessings whenever and wherever we can. God wants us not to lose our “muchness”, but to celebrate it and work on it
In the second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes “Thanks be to God, who in Christ, always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing Christ. For we are the aroma of Christ....”
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2. 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 - “Scent of a Disciple” by Rev. Wes Morgan, First Christian Church Disciples of Christ, Conroe, Texas..
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